That morning, the atmosphere in the middle of the forest felt as if it had just been sprinkled with the scent of the nightmare that had haunted the night before. The fog that had enveloped the area slowly dissipated between the giant trees towering overhead, leaving behind droplets of dew clinging softly to the surfaces of the leaves and blending with the distinctive scent of damp earth, faintly mingled with the pungent aroma of dried blood evaporating from their tattered clothes. Far behind them, below, the Valley of Skulls and the cursed swamp left only a gloomy gray silhouette, but the echoes of screams, whispers, and spells still reverberated in each of their heads, like a turmoil that refused to die down even though morning had come. Before them lay a natural climbing path to the mountain ridge: a steep slope with slippery soil, sharp rocks scattered haphazardly, and giant roots that towered like strong fingers ready to trip anyone who stepped without caution.
Now, their group had shrunk to eleven people. Bima was still struggling to survive, but his life felt very fragile; his chest, torn by a poisonous machete attack, was left wrapped in old cloth and herbal ointment they found in the cult member's medicine bag. Lina steadfastly endured the pain in her swollen and numb legs, refusing help and insisting on walking despite the heavy burden. Fahri's fever began to subside, but his mind was still often drifting, occasionally whispering softly as if talking to an invisible figure. Sari, Amira, Dito, Tono, Maya, Hasan, Fauzan, and Rizal tried to fill the gaps in the formation, closing the gaps left by those who had left. Rangga walked slightly ahead of Rizal, no longer just a suspicious stranger, though not yet fully accepted as one of them; his demeanor remained cold, his steps always calm, and the bone pendant on his chest now looked dull—as if it too was tired after defying the curse the night before.
Rizal paused for a moment, leaning against a large rock protruding from the slope, raising his hand to signal for everyone to stop. His breathing was heavy, but his gaze remained sharp as he scanned the surrounding forest. "Let's rest for five minutes," he said. "We are far enough from the cave. If there are any cult members still alive, they will need time to get up. This mountain is now our battlefield."
Fauzan dropped down to sit, his back leaning against a tree trunk, wiping the sweat mixed with dirt from his face. "Our battlefield, he says," he muttered bitterly. "From the beginning, this forest never belonged to us." He glanced at Rangga. "But at least we're no longer blind. Thank you... for last night."
The words came out stiffly, but they were full of meaning. Sari, who was busy adjusting Bima's position so he could breathe more easily, glanced over for a moment. "If it weren't for Rangga, we might have ended up as decorations on that altar," she said softly. "Or a pile of bones in that valley."
Rangga just shrugged, his gaze fixed on the path up, which was still covered by thick bushes. "You guys decided to destroy the statue. You guys took up arms when everything was about to collapse. I just showed you the way." His voice was flat, but this time it didn't sound as harsh as before—more like someone who was deliberately keeping his distance, not thinking he was above others.
Hasan sat not far from him, his back leaning against a large root. He observed each of his friends' faces, now covered in wounds but also radiating a newfound fortitude. "What is clear," he said softly, "is that we have passed the point where ordinary people would give up. You are no longer children in training. You are now veterans of the forest."
Dito, who had been busy trying to fix the radio, sighed deeply. "It's still the same," he said irritably. "Sometimes we hear noise like a distant signal, but it's not strong enough to be received clearly. This mountain may be our only chance, if the peak is high enough to send a signal. If not... well, we're just climbing to die, but closer to the sky."
Amira looked away from the ravine beside their path and stared at Rizal. "We need to have a clear goal, Riz. If we do climb, there has to be a stronger reason than just looking for a signal. We also have to know what we're looking for up there. An open space for a helicopter? A safe spot from the remaining cult members? Or maybe... just to get away from all this?"
Rizal took a deep breath, massaging his throbbing temples. "Going up means two things," he replied firmly. "First, the chance of a signal. Second, a tactical position. From up there, we can see the surroundings—the village, the valley, the waterways, maybe even an exit route that isn't marked on the map. Going back down to the swamp or the valley is suicide. Down there, the remaining cult members and primitive tribes are waiting, even though we have broken their curse. Up here, at least our only enemy is nature."
"Sometimes," Lina interjected, her face pale but her eyes still shining, "nature is more cruel than humans."
A void immediately filled the atmosphere. The long-hidden sounds of birds began to be heard again far above the canopy, as if the forest remembered that it was not merely a place of death. However, suddenly, Fahri sat up with a startled cry. His eyes were wide open, his breathing was ragged, and cold sweat drenched his face.
"Rizal..." he said softly, hoarsely. "Don't believe it if this forest seems calm. I... I heard them talking. Not cult members, not tribes either. Something else. Last night... when I was half-conscious, a voice said, 'You have disturbed the balance. Come up, if you want to try it.'" He swallowed hard, his hands trembling. "And that voice... it didn't sound human."
Sari immediately grabbed his shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Fahri, you're still feverish. Don't push yourself."
"But I'm not lying," replied Fahri, looking at each of them in turn. "The higher we climb, the more the forest feels... watchful. Like there are eyes in the mist. Not human eyes. Not animal eyes either."
Maya stood up, looking up at the slope blocked by trees. "You think we're only dealing with cult members and tribes?" she said softly. "Maybe they're just one of many things that live here. This forest is old. Maybe older than Mr. Karto's village, older than any story we've ever heard."
Tono shook his head slowly, staring at the damp map in his hand. "On this map, the mountain ridge is just a nameless line. But there are small marks on the edge... like ink strokes that have been deliberately erased." He looked at Rangga. "Did your grandfather ever tell you anything about the top of this mountain?"
Rangga thought for a moment before answering. "He only said that there is a place up there that humans should not approach carelessly. He said it was a 'meeting point' between the forest and something older than all rituals. He never explained, and every time I asked, he just stared at the mountain in silence."
"So we're going to climb to a place that even your grandfather is reluctant to talk about?" Fauzan muttered, half cynical, half afraid.
"We have no other choice," Rizal cut in firmly. "We've come too far to turn back. And too many have died for us to just sit and give up. If there's a chance up there, no matter how small, we have to pursue it."
Hasan stood up, tightening his shoelaces with determination. "The worst kind of war," he said softly, "is not when the enemy is in front of your eyes. But when you know the enemy is there, but you don't know what form it takes."
They continued their journey. The trail narrowed, leaving a ravine on one side and a slippery rock wall on the other. Large roots stretched along the cliff, providing the only handholds when the ground was too steep to walk on safely. Occasionally, small rocks slid down, disappearing into the fog hanging below their feet without a sound.
When they reached a slightly gentler slope, the forest suddenly changed character. The trees became sparser, replaced by tall, thin trees with dead branches and leaves that were blackened as if burned from within. The ground here was drier, but there were small cracks in the surface that emitted a thin, odorless smoke, which made their throats feel dry and itchy. In the middle of the area stood a rock as tall as a human chest, its surface covered with rough carvings that seemed too old to be the work of primitive tribes: circular lines, shapes resembling eyes and intertwined spirals, and at the top, a scratch that looked very similar to... wings.
"What is this?" Dito asked slowly. "A monument? A marker? Or a warning to 'stay away'? If this is a game, it's clearly a checkpoint before the final boss."
Maya approached, touching the surface of the stone with her fingertip. "This isn't the same style of carving as the tribe's," she said. "It's more... abstract. Older. Do you see this?" She pointed to one of the spiral symbols. "It's the same as one of the markings on the cave wall, in the deepest part we almost passed earlier."
"So," Lina murmured softly, "we're not just dealing with cults and tribes. It's as if we're walking in a space that has been marked since ancient times."
Fahri stared at the rock for a long time, his face pale. "This symbol..." he raised his trembling hand, pointing to the eye-like mark in the center. "I've seen it before... between consciousness and unconsciousness. When the voice spoke. This symbol was behind the eyes that stared at me."
Rizal approached the stone, frowning. "Is this... a sign that we are on the right path?" he asked, more to himself than to the others. "Or is this a warning that we are stepping into territory that we should not disturb?"
Hasan stared at the symbol with the gaze of a soldier who had seen many things, but never anything like this. "Sometimes," he said softly, "the two are the same."
The wind blew a little harder, carrying a faint sound from the direction of the peak—not a scream, not the roar of an animal, but something that sounded like... a low, rhythmic hum, almost like heavy, steady breathing. The hairs on the back of their necks stood up.
"Riz..." Amira whispered fearfully, "do you hear that?"
Rizal nodded slowly, staring at the peak still hidden behind the next mountain. "Listen," he replied. "And we'll find out what it really is. But from now on, consider every threat up there as more than just a physical threat. Guard your thoughts. This forest may have finished its business with the cult—now it's our turn."
"Seriously," Fauzan sighed, trying to hide his fear with thin humor, "if we can get out of this alive, I don't want to see a mountain again for the rest of my life."
Sari took a deep breath, looking at each of the remaining faces. "If we can get out alive," she said softly, "we will bring back a story that no one will believe. But that's better than being part of a story that will never be told."
Rizal raised his weapon again, his steps steady even though the ground beneath his feet began to tremble slightly—whether due to the mountain's activity or something darker. "Move," he said firmly. "This chapter isn't over yet. And it seems that what awaits us up there is more challenging than just cults and curses."
They got back up, leaving the marked stone behind, unaware that in the distance, among the dead trees there, a pair of invisible "eyes" were watching—not human, not animal, but something that had been waiting far longer than the age of any village or cult. This forest had just lifted the veil on a far greater threat—no longer just a matter of surviving humans and the forest, but something that might have been the true owner of this place from the very beginning.
***
The trail narrowed into a narrow passage between 20-meter-high walls of smooth rock on both sides. The ground was dry and cracked like peeling earth, emitting a thin, odorless smoke that burned the throat and stung the eyes, as if they had been sprinkled with salt. Dead trees hung with long black moss like ropes, swaying gently without wind, as if blown by invisible breath from the crevices of the rocks, and the low hum that had previously been faint was now clearer—rhythmic like the slow but bone-shaking heartbeat of a giant, interspersed with whispers of wind forming indistinct words like "return... disturb... belong...". The midday sun was blocked by thick fog rising from the ravine, creating long shadows that moved on their own like thin figures dancing at the edge of the ravine, while the temperature dropped dramatically to a piercing cold despite being in the tropics—as if the mountain was breathing cold air from its belly.
In the midst of this terrifying panorama, a group of 11 people moved slowly, each breathing heavily, weapons drawn, but their ammunition was running low, causing growing concern. Bima's festering and rotten wounds meant that he had to be carried by Fauzan and Sari in turns, while Lina walked with a limp, relying on a stick made from a branch to support herself. Fahri's voice rambled the names of those who had been lost, like a radio crackling with interference, while the others checked the emergency safety ropes made from roots—every step carried a high risk of slipping into the 100-meter-deep ravine, above which the fog roared like an invisible waterfall.
Rizal, tense and attentive, led the way, SS1 in his hand raised toward the shadow of the ravine. In a loud voice, he cut through the frightening hum that weighed heavily on their chests. "Hold on tight to the safety ropes! The ravine beside us is a trap—if anyone slips, we have to pull them back with all our strength! Amira, bring your resin torch if the fog gets too dark! Dito, what about the radio signal at the summit? Tono, Maya, watch for any shadows in the ravine—avoid any suspicious movements! Sari, Fauzan, make sure Bima remains stable while being carried! Lina, try to hold your limp—Fahri, control your thoughts! We only need to go another 500 meters to the ridge—there we might get a signal or a more tactical high position!"
With his spine stiff, Fauzan slashed at the hanging roots while carrying Bima on his shoulders, his breathing heavy but his spirit unwavering. He stared at the terrifying misty ravine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. "Bima has a fever again—the pus in his body has poisoned his bloodstream! Sari, we have to take turns carrying him—we have to protect him before this mountain takes him! Hear that humming sound? It's like a living heartbeat—Rangga, didn't your grandfather ever tell you about this part of the mountain?"
Rangga, with steady steps, followed behind Rizal, his bone pendant feeling cold and dull, his blade slashing the moss in the ravine that crept closer to Lina's feet, cold but still alert. "My grandfather said that the back of this mountain is a 'meeting point'—not for humans or cults, but for the ancient spirits of the forest who will awaken if disturbed. The humming is the heart of the valley—they don't like strangers here. My goal is to reach the summit before nightfall so I can send a signal out. If we slip, make sure we hold on to the rope with all our strength."
Sari, who was taking turns carrying Bima while checking and bandaging his wounds, screamed in panic when the shadow from the ravine moved like a misty hand reaching out to grab their wrists. "Let go! Bima groaned, 'foggy eyes'! Fahri shouted deliriously about 'the meeting point... home'! Lina, hold your limp—protect the wounded before this ravine swallows us!"
Lina's stick broke, nearly causing her to fall into the ravine. She screamed in pain because her legs were numb from the poison, while her other hand trembled as she gripped her gun. "My leg is completely numb—Bima's pus has mixed with my blood! Reza is gone... Andi too... we must treat them before this mountain kills us! Dito, what about the radio signal—any response?!"
Bima groaned weakly as he was carried, his torn chest oozing black pus, his voice breaking in the cold air. "This hum... calling my name... this mountain is hungry... Rangga... resisting... my desire for revenge..."
Tono, with a map in his hand that was wet from the humidity, pointed to the ridge 500 meters away and guided Maya's torch to illuminate the shadows from the ravine. "The ridge is visible—the signal will be better here! Maya, Hasan—get ready with your bows to face the shadows! We have to reach a higher elevation!"
Maya, with a firm hand, drew her bow and shot at the misty shadow that was trying to reach them. Her arrow pierced the mist and a faint scream was heard. "That's right! This shadow moves like a hand—Hasan, as a soldier, what do you think about all this?!"
Hasan, with only two bullets left in his pistol, spoke in a low voice that added to the tension. "This is the spirit of the mountain—its hum calls to weak souls. Based on experience, cover your ears, focus your attention on the safety rope. Repeat your own names… again and again…"
Dito, trying to tune the radio filled with loud static, suddenly screamed. "The signal has risen to 20%—'Mayday' has been sent, albeit weakly! Amira, bring the torch to me—block this ravine!"
Amira, clutching her resin torch, stepped forward, staring at the mist rising from the ravine, curling like a giant wave. "Riz, there are only 11 of us left—4 are injured and one of us is in critical condition! The mist is reaching for Lina!"
Suddenly, the ravine rumbled and the mist broke apart, revealing a giant mist hand leaping to grab their legs, pulling them toward the ravine as the humming turned into a terrifying roar: "Disturb... go home... mine!" The shadow of a thin, fog-masked figure appeared at the edge of the ravine, revealing empty black eyes, with a waving fog hand.
Rizal shouted, aimed his SS1 and fired at the fog shadow. "Shoot the shadow! Pull the rope!" Fauzan slashed with his machete, and the fog screamed. Rangga threw a knife at the shadow's eyes, repelling the entanglement that was approaching Sari. Maya shot her bow right into the shadow's chest, Hasan shot its legs until it fell into the ravine with a piercing roar.
The shadow leader, with large empty eyes, roared, "The meeting point of your thirsty souls!" The mist's hand almost knocked Bima into the ravine—Fauzan struggled desperately to pull the rope.
Rizal threw a smoke grenade, and the mist retreated with a scream of pain. "Come on, move to the ridge! Pull everyone up!" They ran forward, gripping the rope tightly, as they reached the open ridge—the view of the valley, village, and swamp became faint as the fog began to recede.
Dito heard the radio beep, "The signal is strong—mayday successfully sent!" But there was a faint humming sound from the rocks at the top, and a black-eyed shadow peered out.
Rizal gasped as he collapsed, "Ten of us survived—but Lina fell into the ravine! The signal was sent... but we're not done with this mountain yet."
Rangga observed coldly, "The meeting point is near—the old spirit is waiting there." The mountain ridge was now silent.
***
The mountain ridge stretching out before our eyes did not look like a peak that promised safety and tranquility for climbers, but rather resembled a giant stone plate full of large cracks, creating dark and eerie shadows. The soil that forms the mountain ridge is hard and dry, breaking into sharp slabs with dark black lines that spread like burnt veins in all directions, suggesting the long and worn traces of time that spread unstoppably. At the edge of the ridge, a gaping ravine with no guardrail made it even more dangerous, its walls disappearing, shrouded in thick fog that hung low. The fog slowly receded but still hung heavily in the air, as if unwilling to release its grip on its prey. In the middle of the mountain ridge stood several large rocks that towered like fangs, arranged in a strange and not entirely natural circle—too symmetrical to be a creation of nature, yet too old and weathered to be considered man-made. On one of the largest rocks, there were scratches that formed a long, eye-like mark, resembling small lines that spread like a network of nerves penetrating the surface of the earth.
Dito sat listlessly near one of the rocks, clutching a radio in his hand, which vibrated slightly when the signal finally penetrated the cold and unfamiliar mountain air. The static that had previously haunted their surroundings turned into clear, broken fragments of words: "...mayday... training unit down... coordinates... repeat, coordinates..." Immediately, Dito raised the radio higher than before, his eyes shining with a mixture of hope and fear. "Riz! There's a response! They heard us!" he shouted, his voice cracking with hope.
Rizal—who had been standing silently in front of the rock with the scratched-out eyes—immediately turned around, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. His face was dirty, covered in dried mud and bloodstains that stained almost every corner of it, but his eyes were sharp and determined. "Repeat! Resend your position, Dito! Make sure they know we're still alive!" he shouted as he stepped closer to Dito, but suddenly felt something—a subtle vibration creeping under his feet, like a humming sound from inside the stone that refused to be quiet and peaceful.
Dito spoke quickly and hurriedly into the radio, his voice sounding rushed and tense. "This is the Bravo training team, eleven people remaining—uh, ten..." His voice faltered and fell silent for a moment when he realized again that they had just lost Lina. "We are on the back of the mountain, above a valley surrounded by cliffs and covered with forest. The plane crashed, attacked by unknown parties—an armed cult and local tribes. We are currently in critical condition and need air evacuation as soon as possible."
The response from the radio sounded distant and intermittent, but it was clear enough to cut through the annoying static. "...Bravo... the line has been down for several days... triangulate the signal... hold on... bad weather... set visual markers... we'll re-establish contact in 15 minutes..."
"Fifteen minutes," Hasan muttered, staring at the gray sky filled with thick clouds hanging heavily above them. "In fifteen minutes, a lot can happen here—for better or worse."
Fauzan, still wearing Bima's blood-stained clothes with mountain sand stuck here and there, looked around them warily. "If this were a movie, usually when the radio comes on, something worse is bound to happen." He looked at the rocks surrounding their position. "And look at this—it seems like we're standing in the middle of a circle of something unfriendly, whose purpose and meaning are unknown."
Maya moved slowly along the edge of the stone circle, her fingertips touching the rough surface covered with irregular scratches. "This is not just any pattern," she said, looking more closely at each scratch. "Look, the lines are connected. Like... a map or a ritual circle. But these symbols are different from what we saw in the cult cave before."
Tono observed as well, holding a faded and worn paper map in his hands, which was of little help in this mysterious and creepy place. "On the map, this place is only marked as a 'topographical anomaly zone,'" he said, looking more alert. "Maybe because the person who made this map didn't have any other words that made more sense to describe it."
Fahri, who was sitting leaning against one of the rocks with a pale face and dark eye bags, slowly raised his head. His eyes looked a little clearer, but there was still something deep and lurking behind his gloomy gaze. "This is not just an ordinary rock," he whispered softly. "When we climbed up... the voice said, 'the meeting point'. At first I thought it was just a hallucination. But now... I feel that the voice is real and it's here."
Sari held his shoulders tightly to support and calm him. "Fahri, don't listen to it too much. You've just... been through a lot of difficult and extraordinary things."
"But it's not lying," Fahri replied softly, looking at Sari with a calming gaze. "It said, 'you opened a door that doesn't belong to you'. And look around you. Evil cults, wild tribes, forests that move on their own—it's all like part of something bigger and scarier. It's like we entered someone's house without permission and then messed up their living room."
Rangga stood at the edge of the stone circle, his dull-looking pendant occasionally reflecting a strange light when the wind suddenly changed direction. "My grandfather once told me about this," he finally said in a low voice, causing everyone to turn to him. "He called it 'the watching back'. He said this is the place where everything in this forest is 'recorded'. But not by humans. Nor by gods, as in folklore. But by... something formless, possessing only will."
Hasan raised his eyebrows and furrowed his brow. "What will?" he asked curiously, wanting to know more.
"The will to maintain balance," Rangga replied firmly. "If too much unnatural blood pollutes this land, if too much fear and hatred gather in one place, then this back will 'remember'. And sometimes... it responds in its own way."
Dito swallowed hard, still clutching the radio tightly in his hand, while the signal remained stable but the atmosphere around him grew increasingly tense. "Respond in what way? An explosion? An earthquake? Or... something worse and more terrible?"
Rangga stared at the stone with mysterious markings on it. "Grandfather said that long ago, when a group of hunters deliberately massacred a small village due to a misunderstanding, the entire mountain ridge cracked. People said it was a powerful earthquake. But the bodies of the hunters were found with unnatural expressions of fear on their faces, their eyes wide open, staring at something invisible to others."
Fauzan sighed deeply, using humor as a shield against his fear. "So... in short, we've made the mountain angry? Great. The tribe is angry, the cult is angry, the forest is angry, now the mountain is angry too. All that's left is for the sky to come down and reprimand us."
As if responding to Fauzan's words, the low hum that had only been felt in their chests now turned into a real vibration in the soles of their feet. The surrounding rocks shook slowly, fine sand slipped out of the increasing number of cracks, and a thin layer of dust fell from above even though the sky above them was still intact. Maya sharpened her gaze as she took a deep breath, her body tensing. "Riz," she said softly, "this isn't just a normal tremor. It feels... directed and purposeful."
Rizal immediately gave a firm command. "Everyone move away from the edge of the cliff! Gather inside the circle of stones, but don't step on the symbols on the ground!" He pointed to the circular markings between the stones. "If this is indeed an 'anomaly' zone, we mustn't step on the center."
However, Fahri felt angry, his face red and his hands clenched tightly. "We've stepped on things worse than this before," he said firmly. "We passed through the valley of skulls, entered the swamp of curses, disrupted the cult altar, and even killed a tribe that was probably just defending their rightful territory..." He stared at the symbols on the ground with curiosity. "If there is something here that wants to talk to us, maybe we should listen to it. Not run and hide."
Sari turned to Fahri with a sharp look. "Hear? Hear what? The voice that called your name last night and almost kept you from returning to us."
"And that voice also warned us about the dangerous altar," Fahri replied calmly, his voice clearer this time. "If we hadn't listened to it, we might have perished even sooner in this terrifying place."
Hasan watched his two friends closely, then looked at Rizal seriously. "This is the moment of decision, son," he said wisely. "We have a chance to be evacuated if the weather is favorable and the signal holds. But we are also standing in a place that clearly has something unfinished with us."
Dito picked up the radio again and listened carefully to the faint voices on the communication channel. "...Bravo, this is the search team... there is a storm moving from the west... the evacuation time is very limited... visual flares are needed immediately..."
Rizal closed his eyes for a moment to calm his mind, then opened them again with determination. "Dito, prepare the flares. As soon as they ask, we shoot them into the sky." He looked at his other friends with anxious hope. "But until that time comes, we must remain vigilant. We never know whether this mountain is happy to see us go or wants to keep us here longer."
Tono raised his hand, pointing to the edge of the mountain ridge, where the fog was beginning to thin slightly, as if offering a vague and mysterious glimpse. "Rizal... look at that," he said seriously.
In the distance, outside the circle of rocks surrounding them, something resembling a single tree stood upright at the edge of the farthest cliff. The tree looked strange and unusual: its trunk was shiny black like obsidian, its branches were sparse and sparse, and at the ends there were only a few small dark red leaves, as if wet with fresh blood that had just dripped. Even stranger, the ground around the tree did not appear cracked, even though the surrounding mountain ridge was covered in lines indicating fractures—as if the tree was the center of something holding back the increasing cracks.
"That tree..." Amira whispered softly, her voice full of curiosity. "Why does it feel... wrong and right at the same time?" she asked herself.
Rangga narrowed his eyes to see more clearly. "That... I've never seen it before," he admitted softly. "Grandpa only said that on the ridge, there is a 'mark' where the forest decides the fate of outsiders who dare to come. Maybe that's one of them, and now we're standing around it."
Fauzan laughed briefly, but without humor and only as a form of escape. "It sounds like a final and unexpected test. What's next—are we asked to choose who lives and who dies among us?"
Fahri stared at the tree for a long time, his face tense and serious, but not with fear in his heart. "I think... he's not asking that of us. He's just... watching and judging." He slowly got up even though Sari tried to hold him back. "If we want to leave here with our heads held high and our dignity intact, we must dare to stand in front of whatever judges us, no matter what the outcome."
"Fahri!" Sari grabbed his arm harder, trying to stop him. "Don't be crazy! You haven't even fully recovered from all these terrible events."
"If I wait until I'm fully recovered," Fahri replied softly and meaningfully, "maybe none of us will be here to witness it."
Rizal sighed deeply, then glanced at Hasan and Rangga firmly. "We won't let him go alone," he said decisively. "Hasan, you're on the left. Rangga, you're on the right. I'll be behind. The rest of you stay inside the stone circle—ready with your weapons and eyes alert in all directions. If anything threatening happens, don't hesitate to move quickly."
"This may be a bad idea, but unfortunately it's the only one we have right now," muttered Dito, gripping the radio more tightly as if he didn't want to let go.
The three of them—Fahri in front, Hasan on the left, Rangga on the right, Rizal behind—walked slowly away from the stone circle, approaching the obsidian tree that stood ominously at the edge of the cliff. With every step they took, the humming in the air seemed to change pitch, as if the mountain was adjusting its breathing to follow their footsteps. The wind blew past their backs, carrying a sharp metallic smell, like the air in an operating room or on a battlefield that had just seen fierce fighting.
As they approached within five meters of the tree, the ground that had been shaking suddenly stopped and a thick silence descended, so deep that even the sound of their own breathing seemed too loud in the stillness. Fahri stopped, staring at the black trunk of the tree with intense concentration and attention. On the surface of the trunk, faint patterns could be seen—similar to the markings on the stone circle they had passed earlier, but more delicate and deeply carved.
"What do you want from us?" Fahri said softly, as if speaking to someone standing in front of the tree that could not be seen by the naked eye. "We have fought against your cruel cult. We have stopped polluting the valley with the blood of those stubborn people. We just want to go home and leave all this behind."
There was no answer in the form of spoken words. However, the dark red leaves at the top of the tree trembled softly, as if blown by a wind that only they could feel. Then, suddenly, something stirred in Fahri's head—not a sound, not a clear image, but a sensation: a void that was slowly filled with a heavy, old, and weary feeling of a life full of burdens. As if touching a mind that had seen too much in its lifetime.
Rangga felt his pendant warm against his chest, and he squeezed it tightly, his jaw hardening with determination. "Rizal," he said softly. "Whatever he does, don't let either of us cross the line. If either of us suddenly wants to jump into the abyss... hold us back and stop us."
Hasan straightened his body, ready with his hands on Fahri's shoulders. "It's normal to hold back people who want to leave without saying goodbye or asking permission," he muttered, either joking or serious with his casual words.
In the tense and gripping silence, something changed in the air around them. The low hum that had been disturbing turned into a kind of regular rhythm, almost like... the sound of a helicopter coming from a distance. Dito stood up, staring at the sky with hope and tension. "Riz! Visual contact!" he shouted from the circle of stones they had left behind. "I see a dark spot... two... no, three! They're coming!"
The tension on the mountain ridge grew in two opposite directions: upward, toward the sky that began to tremble with the arrival of the long-awaited help, and downward, into the ground that still held something unfinished and undisclosed. The obsidian tree remained silent, but its red leaves no longer trembled—as if it had made a decision that only it knew the secret to.
Rizal gazed at the sky hopefully, then returned to the tree with curiosity and determination. "If you are the guardian here..." he said softly, "let us pass safely. Let all those who died down there be enough to pay off the debt that holds the grudges of the past."
The wind blew once more, warmer than before, as if conveying a soothing message. Fahri exhaled deeply, his tense shoulders slumping slightly—the burden that had been weighing on his head slowly fading away in the hopeful silence.
"He..." Fahri swallowed, trying to calm himself. "He's not... angry with us anymore. But he won't forget. This place will always remember us forever." He turned, looking at the others with anxious hope. "And that means... if one day someone comes here with bad intentions, they might see our shadows."
"Good," Fauzan muttered from a distance. "Let them be afraid from afar."
The sound of helicopter blades was now clearly audible. Helicopters—more than one—were approaching the mountain ridge, cutting through the fog that had previously enveloped them. Dito raised a flare and, with trembling hands, shot it into the tense sky. The burst of red light carved a bold line across the gray air.
But even as the long-awaited iron-clad hope approached, none of them felt completely relieved. Because behind all the screams, blood, and prayers they had left behind down there, they knew: there was something in this forest and on this mountain that now knew their names for sure. And the last shadow staring at them from the mountain ridge... might not have gone far.
This closed their steps on the unfamiliar mountain ridge, just as the line between life and death, between myth and reality, between curse and salvation, thinned to a crack in the rock beneath their feet. Was the helicopter truly the ticket home they had been waiting for, or just a new chapter in an unfinished ordeal—it was something they didn't dare answer, even in their deepest thoughts.