They agreed to descend three days later, once Wirasena had arranged the specific quiet cover their expedition required, a routine inspection of the eastern wing's old foundations, nothing that would draw attention from anyone beyond the small circle who already knew the truth.
Their daughter stayed with Larasati's mother that morning, delighted by the promised extra playtime and entirely unaware of where her parents were actually going. Rama had considered bringing her, briefly, reasoning that whatever connection she carried might prove useful to understand directly. Sekar had refused outright, and he hadn't argued past her first firm word on the matter.
"Not until we know what's actually down there," she'd said. "I won't risk her again on a guess."
Wirasena met them at the passage entrance carrying a shuttered lamp and a satchel of instruments Rama didn't recognize, old brass and worn leather, the accumulated tools of forty years spent studying exactly this kind of mystery.
