I stared at the shadow, its faint red eyes piercing through the morning light, measuring my courage while silently questioning my intentions. The black stone in my pocket pulsed in sync with my heartbeat, its subtle energy flowing through my entire body—from the soles of my feet, up my back, to the tips of my fingers. My body tensed, yet there was an odd warmth—not ordinary comfort, but as if the earth itself was insisting I remain standing.
"Why does this feel… real?" I muttered, my words nearly choking in my throat. The chill from the shadow brushed against my skin, yet the ground beneath my feet remained warm, oddly reassuring. The contradiction made my head spin; logic and instinct clashed.
Putih tilted his head, his horns aligned with the tiny crack in the ground. His short, low hum carried weight. I looked at him. "Are you sure this is safe?" he replied with another quiet hum—gentle, but firm. I exhaled deeply. For the first time, I truly trusted him.
The stone pulsed stronger, each beat making my hands tremble. I closed my eyes briefly, imagining what might await below the surface. Fear mingled with curiosity. Childhood memories resurfaced—times I tried talking to my cows, listening to their grunts and footsteps. Never did I imagine that these simple acts would lead me here, facing something neither fully human nor fully animal, existing between their world and mine.
Opening my eyes, I saw the shadow more clearly. Large, yet incomplete. Half human, half something I couldn't name, as if restrained by gravity and soil. Its movements were slow, yet with each shift, the ground seemed to breathe alongside it. I swallowed hard. "If this isn't dangerous, why am I afraid?" I thought.
Putih remained by my side, standing firm, tail moving with the rhythm of the wind. I glanced at the stone in my pocket: it now felt like a gentle pull toward the shadow. My breath caught. "If this… is real, I have to face it," I told myself.
The shadow lowered slightly, as if gauging my bravery. My body was tense, but there was an odd sense of comfort—the presence of Putih and the stone acting as anchors amidst extraordinary tension. The ground beneath began to tremble faintly. Faint symbols started appearing, glowing dimly, forming intricate patterns around the shadow. The stone reflected a soft light, resonating with the symbols on the ground.
I blinked. These symbols weren't familiar, yet somehow they felt… known. I had seen similar patterns in my grandmother's old books, long forgotten. I gripped the stone tighter. Each pulse penetrated my mind: "You have been chosen. You must listen. You must see."
I stepped forward again, and the shadow retreated slightly, giving me space. A cold wind brushed my face, but the earth remained warm. My breath was ragged, right hand clutching the pocket stone, left hand grasping empty air, trying to steady myself. Each step felt like crossing the boundary from the ordinary world into something far greater.
Putih let out a soft grunt, shifting his tail. I realized that my trust in him, simple as it was, had become my main support—if I faltered, the balance of everything might collapse.
The shadow moved, revealing more of its form. Its red eyes gleamed, a faint energy radiating from the earth into the air. The stone pulsed harder, sending a strange sensation—a silent message, clear in my mind:
"Every step you take shapes the path. Do not stop."
I swallowed. Exhaustion, curiosity, and fear mixed within me. The ground beneath seemed to breathe, the wind carried the damp, earthy scent, like a mixture of roots and decaying leaves. I closed my eyes briefly, letting my senses soak in the moment.
When I opened them, I knew one thing: my life would never be the same. The pasture I walked every day—feeding cows—had become a gateway to a mysterious world, full of secrets, and I was part of a story far bigger than my former life.
I looked at Putih. He tilted his head, blinking once. I drew a deep breath, steadying my heartbeat, then took another step. The stone pulsed, the shadow waited, and the field trembled faintly. This adventure had only just begun.
I stood for a long moment, gazing at the field where the fissure had just closed. The wind blew, rustling hair and tall grass, but I didn't move. My body ached, but my mind wouldn't stop racing. The stone in my pocket pulsed slowly, seemingly waiting for my reaction. Once more, a faint message echoed in my mind: "Do not delay."
Putih remained motionless, his gentle eyes fixed on me. There was a strange sense of safety, but tension lingered—I knew something was unfinished. An instinct told me the fissure wasn't an accident, the shadow not an illusion. I focused my breath, trying to calm myself. Ordinary farmer? That was no longer me. The stone, the shadow, the field—they whispered of something far greater.
I bent down, touching the stone in my pocket, feeling its rough yet warm surface. Its pulsing quickened, signaling urgency. "Why do I feel… not fear, but adrenaline mixed with curiosity?" I stopped, trying to understand: what was I supposed to do now?
Putih stepped closer, firm, tail shifting slightly. His hum was clear: "Continue, but be careful." I smiled faintly, though my breath remained quick. This cow—whose grunts I once only listened to—had now become my anchor in an impossible situation.
I scanned the field. The trees along the edges swayed gently in the morning wind, their shadows dancing on the damp soil. Sunlight pierced the cloud gaps, forming sparkling patterns. Details I had seen but ignored now seemed alive. Each leaf, each small stone, provided subtle hints.
I looked down at the faint cracks radiating from the previous fissure. The stone pulsed, indicating a direction. I looked at Putih: "You know the way, right?" The cow only gave a soft grunt. Its subtle movements—tail slightly right, feet steady—sent silent signals.
I moved carefully, guided by intuition. The warm earth beneath seemed to lead me, each step sending light vibrations through my soles. The stone's pulse harmonized, creating a strange rhythm in my head. I swallowed. Each second felt slow, yet significant.
Suddenly, a faint voice reached my mind again: "Raka… listen." Gentle, like a breath, guiding without force. I bent slightly, feeling the stone. Its pulse strengthened. I focused, remembering everything I knew about the field, cows, and… things I had never seen before. I realized that attention to small details—Putih's grunts, the scent of soil, the faint light—revealed a subtle connection between this world and something hidden beneath the earth.
Putih shifted slightly, giving space. I nodded and leaned forward, stepping slowly. Each step brought new sensations: damp aromas, absent insect sounds, sunlight reflecting oddly on wet soil. The stone pulsed, guiding me. I began to understand: this wasn't about courage alone. It was about sensitivity—seeing, hearing, feeling things beyond explanation.
I gazed at the closing fissure. The ground trembled gently, sending a message: "Do not stop." I swallowed, a mix of fear, curiosity, and tension, yet a slight relief knowing Putih was beside me. I tightened my steps, controlling every movement.
After a few strides, I stopped. The stone pulsed rapidly. I looked down—the faint symbols faded, but the energy remained. The world seemed to wait for a decision: was I brave enough to go further? I looked at Putih. His head tilted, eyes sharp, reading my thoughts. I inhaled deeply. "Okay, Raka… you can do this. Next step." The stone pulsed quickly, the earth warmed underfoot, cold wind brushed my face. I stepped forward, every moment etching a new memory into this field—the beginning of an adventure I had never walked before.
I focused on the faint shadow ahead. Closer, clearer. Every second, the stone's pulse, the earth's energy, and Putih's gaze merged into a single rhythm. I knew, whatever awaited below, I would not retreat. I was ready.