Alun-Alun Kidul (Southern Square) was lively as the afternoon slowly drifted toward evening.
Pale yellow streetlights flickered on, even though the sky was still fairly bright.
The warm glow of the setting sun illuminated the faces of the high school students who clustered together, still full of energy despite having spent hours earlier wandering around the Prambanan temple complex.
Some chewed on skewered snacks.
Some lined up for meatballs.
Others kicked around a plastic soccer ball on the grass.
"Hey, hey, hey… I just googled something," one of them shouted, raising her phone high and waving it around to get attention.
"Apparently, if you can walk straight between those twin trees with your eyes closed, your life will stay straight too. Your love life will last until marriage. Everything goes smoothly. Like, guaranteed."
Responses immediately erupted.
Some doubted the myth, others were clearly curious.
They were city kids, after all.
Unfamiliar with anything metaphysical, naturally skeptical of anything mystical.
"That's such a hoax."
"Still… I wanna try it though."
"Is it hard? What if you crash into the tree? Or into someone?"
The noise grew louder.
The so-called tree-crossing challenge quickly turned into an absurd social media-style dare.
Shouts mixed with laughter, filling the late afternoon with excitement.
Danu, sensing a perfect moment, immediately turned on his camera.
His face lit up, like he had just struck content gold.
"Alright. This is it," he said enthusiastically. "Jogja urban legend challenge. Perfect evening lighting too."
One by one, students tried.
Some veered left.
Others drifted far to the right, laughing awkwardly at themselves.
Cheers and teasing grew louder.
The area now felt more like a small night market gathered around the two ancient banyan trees.
Then it was Anindya's turn.
She stepped forward as her friends cheered loudly, already anticipating another amusing failure.
"Come on, Anin. Try it. Who knows, right? You might end up as the school bulletin headline."
"Hey, if I crash, don't laugh at me. I swear," she warned.
Someone tied a scarf over her eyes.
Anindya took her first steps.
Slow, but steady.
The cheers and jeers gradually quieted, replaced by murmurs of surprise.
Many of them had tried already, and only now realized it was harder than it looked.
And somehow, Anindya made it.
Straight through.
Perfectly between the two trees.
"WHAT? HOW DID SHE DO THAT?"
"Our reporter is something else!"
Danu grinned in satisfaction, having captured every failure and that single success.
"This is gold. Perfect opening shot for a documentary someday."
Laughter and applause erupted again, celebrating Anin's small victory.
But amid the noise, Ranti, who had been watching from a distance, suddenly froze.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the trees.
Then she quickly looked down again, masking her reaction.
She clapped lightly and smiled, pretending to share the excitement.
Anin stood beneath the trees, still enjoying the rush of her success, when she heard something strange.
The laughter and cheers around her faded away, replaced by the distant sound of gamelan music.
Soft, gentle tones that seemed to come from the trees themselves.
For several seconds, it was the only sound she heard.
Startled, she turned quickly toward the trees.
There was nothing there.
The sound vanished instantly, replaced again by laughter and noise.
"Must be my imagination," she thought, shaking her head before rejoining the group.
The sun continued to sink.
The sky darkened, painted in shades of orange.
Eventually, the students returned to their hotel.
They split up into their assigned rooms.
Some collapsed onto their beds.
Others updated social media stories or called home.
It was half past seven in the evening.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Anin had just closed her notebook when she heard the knock on her door.
When she opened it, Danu and Jaka stood outside, their expressions strange.
Most noticeably, Danu looked like a mix of panic, confusion, and excitement.
"You need to see this, Anin," he said, turning his camera screen toward her.
At first, the footage looked normal.
Friends cheering.
Anin walking forward.
But just as Anin was about to reach the end, a faint light appeared between the trees.
Then the glitch.
The same kind of glitch they had seen earlier at the temple.
"You see it, right? You see it?" Danu spoke quickly, his voice trembling.
"I swear this isn't edited. This is the raw file. I haven't even transferred it yet."
Anin fell silent, remembering what she had experienced earlier.
"I also heard something strange," she admitted quietly.
"Afterward. Like gamelan music. But when I turned around, it was gone."
Jaka, who had been leaning against the wall, finally spoke.
His tone was flat, his face tired.
"Do you two realize that from Prambanan until now, nothing today has been normal?" He exhaled slowly.
"I mean, come on. I just want one normal night of sleep without chasing freak incidents like this."
"And it could just be exhaustion. The camera acting up. Maybe we were just influenced by the atmosphere and hallucinated."
Danu scoffed.
"Hallucinated together?"
"It could be a camera error," Jaka replied calmly.
"Low battery. Sensor noise. Who knows."
Danu raised his voice, clearly not convinced.
"Your teeth are the ones glitching," he snapped, leaning forward.
"The rest of the video is fine. Only that part is messed up. How does that even happen?"
"Enough, guys," Anin cut in, tapping both their shoulders.
"You're being loud. Other people are trying to rest." She hesitated.
"I don't know why, but my gut keeps telling me we need to go back there. Or… we could check tomorrow morning."
"Tonight," Danu interrupted immediately.
"Why not sleep first?" Jaka snapped.
"What's the rush? You chasing deadlines now?"
"Because if this is real, it's going to keep me awake anyway," Danu replied. "And if it's not, we prove it and move on." He swallowed.
"We don't know what this is. We don't know when we'll be here again. But if we can capture it again… I feel like this leads to something big."
Jaka stared at him for a moment.
Then at Anin.
Finally, he sighed.
"Fine. I'm in. But if there's nothing, you two owe me cafeteria food for a week."
"We'll leave later. Danu, figure out how to get out."
"Why is it always me?"
"Who's the one who can't sleep?" Jaka countered.
"Go. Think. Hurry."
***
It was eleven at night.
The hotel hallway was silent, filled only with the hum of air conditioners and their footsteps.
Danu glanced over his shoulder more than once, feeling like they were being followed.
"Did you hear that?" Anin whispered.
"Nothing," Jaka answered, though his grip tightened around his bag strap.
They slipped out of the hotel, moving quickly but cautiously.
The night air was cold.
Occasional vehicles passed by.
The square was dark and empty, lit only by streetlamps.
"You sure this won't get us in trouble?" Anin asked.
"Relax," Jaka replied lightly.
"Danu already bribed the night supervisor with martabak." He added, "Still, I don't like sneaking around when I'm half asleep."
As they approached the twin banyan trees, the air felt different.
Streetlights flickered, then stabilized.
From a distance, they saw someone standing in the middle of the field.
Motionless.
Staring at the trees.
"Oh hell. Who is that?" Danu whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
"Don't do that," Anin hissed.
"I don't like it."
"Look properly," Jaka snapped.
"She is wearing our school uniform."
The figure heard them approaching and slowly turned around.
Her blank stare softened, though something about her still felt… off.
"Oh… you guys?" she said gently, her voice slightly delayed.
"What are you doing here so late?"
"Oh my god… Ranti?" Anin and Danu said at the same time.
"We should be asking you," Jaka replied quietly.
"Out here alone. At night."
Ranti smiled faintly.
"I couldn't sleep," she said.
"Had a lot on my mind. Since we're in Jogja, I thought I'd come here. This place… it's calming."
Jaka watched her closely.
"You noticed it too, right?" he said slowly.
"Today. You've been different. On the bus. At Prambanan. Here. You're always around when weird things happen." He paused. "I'm wondering… is this coincidence… or not?"
"Jaka, stop," Anin grabbed his shoulder.
But Jaka pulled away.
"I'm not accusing," he said, his voice tight. "I'm just tired of not understanding anything. The timing is too perfect."
Ranti looked at the three of them.
There was sadness in her eyes.
"If you want answers," she said softly, "maybe I can explain. But not now. Not here." She lowered her gaze.
"Some things are better left unknown. For your own safety."
Anin was about to speak when she froze.
Her eyes widened.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
She stared at the trees.
Her fingers clutched Danu's arm tightly.
"Nu… Nu… look. Look at that."
Danu winced at her grip, then followed her gaze.
His breath caught.
"Dear God…"
Jaka scoffed. "What now?"
Then he stopped.
Between the two trees, a thin line of light appeared.
Pulsing.
Moving like a living vein.
Golden symbols formed along it.
Intricate.
Shifting.
Like glowing Javanese script carved from light.
The wind stopped.
City sounds vanished, ripped away in an instant.
The air grew heavy.
Breathing became difficult.
The golden light grew brighter, connecting into the frame of a massive doorway.
Glowing characters covered its surface, forming words none of them could understand.
The script moved like a living spell.
They stood frozen.
Then a low sound echoed.
The ancient door creaked open, releasing a blinding white light.
"Oh my God!" Danu shouted, shielding his face.
Anin screamed.
Their hearts raced wildly.
It was too intense.
Too unreal.
Then the light exploded.
Everything turned white.
Silence followed.
No insects.
No city noise.
Nothing.
Only the sound of water trickling softly.
Then birdsong.
Like morning being born.
Anin slowly opened her eyes.
Her vision blurred, then sharpened.
Daylight replaced the night sky.
They stood in a dense forest.
The air was fresh and damp.
Wet soil clung to their shoes.
This was not the square.
Not the city.
Not the present.
Tall trees surrounded them, mist drifting between their trunks.
And before them stood the twin banyan trees.
Exactly the same.
But beneath them lay offerings.
Yellow leaves.
Flowers.
Cloth wrapped around the trunks.
What had once been a city landmark now felt like an ancient shrine.
They had been pulled into a world far removed from reality.
Danu trembled. "This… is Jogja?"
Jaka stepped back, pale. "This isn't a dream… right?"
Anin spun around frantically.
"Where are we? Where's the square? Where's Ranti?"
"I told you something was off about her," Jaka snapped.
"She disappeared. She brought us here."
"Enough," Danu said quickly.
"Let's focus on finding her first."
They shouted her name. "RANTI!" Their voices echoed briefly, then vanished into the trees.
No answer.
Only silence.
"Damn it," Jaka muttered.
"She really left us here."
Anin was about to respond when a sound cut through the air.
Crack.
A branch snapped.
They turned together.
From the bushes stepped a young man dressed like he had walked straight out of an epic historical film, carrying a woven basket of flowers.
He froze when he saw them.
So did they.
And in that moment, none of them knew who was more afraid.