Ash tasted like copper on Awan's tongue. Crimson silk fluttered between Sekar's fingers, the torn fabric of her father's sash stained with salt and dried blood. Her knuckles were bone-white as she clutched the scrap she had pulled from the beast's scales. "You looked me in the eye," Sekar said, her voice barely a whisper against the howling wind of the bay. Rain began to fall, fat drops sizzling against the smoldering debris of the harbor. Awan forced his shoulders to relax, leaning back against a charred wooden post with practiced ease. He let a lazy, mocking smile curve his lips, though his heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "Let's call it strategic omission," Awan drawls, his tone dripping with false amusement. "I look at beautiful women all the time, Sekar. It is a habit of mine. You should not take it so personally." "Stop it!" she screamed, her voice cracking as she stepped closer. Tears welled in her eyes, reflecting the dying embers of the ruined city. The raw betrayal on her face cut deeper than any poisoned blade Awan had ever faced. It made him want to reach out, to brush away the moisture on her cheek, but he locked his joints in place. "Why did you lie to me?" she demanded, holding up the bloody silk. "You saw him. You saw my father. You knew he was alive, captive, and you told me he was dead." "Because hope is a luxury we cannot afford," Awan replied, his voice dropping into a chilling, flat register. He stood up straight, shedding his lazy posture like a snake shedding skin. His eyes turned to polished obsidian, devoid of the warmth he usually wore to charm the world. "Look around you," he gestured to the smoking ruins of Gresik. "We are in the middle of a war. Gajah Wulung’s forces are hunting us, and the archipelago is bleeding. If you spend your time chasing ghosts and weeping over family ties, you will end up dead. And worse, you will get me killed." Sekar flinched as if he had struck her. "He is my father," she whispered, her chest heaving. "A liability," Awan snapped, stepping forward until he towered over her. "Attachments are a weakness. They are ropes your enemies use to hang you. I do not carry dead weight, Sekar. If you want to survive this, lock your heart in a box and throw away the key." Cold silence stretched between them, heavier than the rain-slicked air. Sekar stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the man who had held her hand, the man who had laughed with her under the stars. She found nothing but a frozen mask. "You are a monster," she said quietly. "I am alive," Awan corrected, turning his back on her. "And if you want to stay that way, we need to move. Now." --- Smoke from the burning docks provided the perfect cover as they slipped through the shattered gates of Gresik. Guards wearing the emblem of the eastern warlords patrolled the main thoroughfares, their torches cutting through the damp gloom. Awan moved like a phantom, his boots making no sound on the wet cobblestones. Sekar followed a few paces behind, her movements fluid but mechanical. Her usual vibrant energy was gone, replaced by a hollow, grim determination. "A pair of guards on the left corner," Awan murmured, halting behind a crumbling brick wall. Without a word, Sekar raised her bow. A gust of localized wind gathered around her arrowhead, silent and deadly. She drew the string back, her jaw tight, and released. Her arrow hissed through the rain, striking the first guard squarely in the throat. Before the second could cry out, Awan was already there, his dagger slipping between the man's ribs with practiced precision. Dragging the bodies into the shadows, Awan looked back at her. "Nice shot," he whispered. She did not acknowledge the praise, merely reloading her bow and staring straight ahead. Awan swallowed a sudden bitterness in his throat. He had wanted her to stay detached, but this freezing distance felt like a slow poison in his veins. It reminded him too much of the cold mansion of his childhood, where his noble family had cast him aside like garbage when he failed to meet their expectations. Escaping the final checkpoint by scaling the ruined northern wall, they slipped into the dark expanse of the outer valley. Ahead of them, the jagged silhouette of Mount Penanggungan rose against the midnight sky, its volcanic peak crowned with a faint, red glow. --- Hours bled into one another as they trekked through the dense, muddy foothills. Ferns clung to Awan's trousers, heavy with dew, while the scent of sulfur slowly replaced the clean smell of rain. The climb was steep, forcing them to scramble over wet rocks and twisted roots. Neither of them spoke. Awan kept his eyes trained on the path ahead, though his mind kept drifting to the girl behind him. He could hear her uneven breathing, the occasional slip of her boots, but she never asked for help. "We should rest," Awan said eventually, stopping beneath a rocky overhang that offered shelter from the drizzle. "I am not tired," Sekar replied, her voice flat. "Your muscles are twitching, and your pace has slowed by a third," Awan said, leaning against the wet stone. "Sit down, Sekar. Or do you want to collapse when we encounter whatever is guarding the cosmic seal?" She glared at him, a spark of anger returning to her eyes before she sank onto a flat boulder, keeping her distance. Pulling a dried strip of venison from his pack, Awan tossed it toward her. It landed near her feet, untouched. "Eat," Awan commanded quietly. "I need you at full strength." "Do not pretend to care about my strength," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You only care about using me to get to the seal." "Exactly," Awan lied smoothly, though his chest ached. "You are an excellent weapon. I would hate for my weapon to rust before the final battle." Sekar pulled her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms. "My father used to tell me stories about the great heroes of old," she whispered to the darkness. "He said they fought for love, for family, for the people they cherished. I believed him." "Your father was a fool," Awan said, his voice hardening as memories of his own past threatened to break through his defenses. "Those heroes are all buried in unmarked graves. The only thing that keeps you alive is absolute self-reliance. When you rely on others, you give them the knife to gut you." "Is that why you are alone, Awan?" she asked, looking up, her eyes cutting through the gloom. "Because you are too afraid to let anyone close?" "I am alone because I choose to be," Awan said, his jaw clenching. "And I am still breathing." "That is not living," Sekar said. "That is just waiting to die." Awan turned his head away, staring out into the misty valley below. He had spent his entire life building these walls, ensuring no one could ever hurt him the way his family had when they cast him aside. He was the invincible swordsman, the master pugilist, the man who laughed at danger. Yet, sitting in the cold shadow of the volcano, his walls felt incredibly fragile. --- Dawn brought no warmth, only a thick, grey fog that clung to the mountain slopes like a wet blanket. They continued their ascent, the trail narrowing until it was nothing more than a precarious ledge overlooking a sheer drop into the mist. The air grew thinner, carrying the sharp, burning tang of active volcanic vents. Awan led the way, testing each foothold before stepping. Steam hissed from cracks in the black volcanic rock, rising in ghostly plumes that distorted the landscape. "The seal is near," Awan said, pointing toward a jagged ridge where the ruins of an ancient stone temple clung to the mountainside. "I can feel the spiritual pressure." Sekar did not answer, her eyes fixed on the path. Suddenly, a loose rock gave way beneath her boot. She gasped as she slipped, her body tilting over the edge of the ravine. Instinct took over. Awan lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. His grip was iron, his muscles straining as he hauled her back onto the solid path, pulling her flush against his chest. For a second, they were frozen. He could feel the rapid beating of her heart against his ribs, her warmth cutting through the freezing mountain air. Her eyes were wide, staring up at him with a vulnerability that made his breath catch in his throat. Slowly, Sekar pulled her hand out of his grip, her movements deliberate and cold. She stepped back, creating a wide chasm between them once more. "Thank you," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "Watch your step," Awan said, his voice slightly hoarse as he turned back to the trail. "I cannot catch you every time." They climbed higher, the mist swirling around them, isolating them from the rest of the world. Sekar stopped on a flat ridge, looking out over the sea of clouds that hid the valleys below. As they climb the misty mountain trails, Sekar quietly tells Awan that once this is over, she will never look at him again—and Awan realizes that this thought terrifies him more than the end of the world.

Chapter 13: The Salt of Betrayal