The mist-shrouded expanse of the Pondok Sunyi gardens stretched out, each dew-kissed leaf and gnarled root a potential hiding place. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine, a sharp, honeyed sweetness that stung Banyu's throat amid the stillness. He stood opposite Kirana on a worn stone path, Paijo a nervous shadow just beyond the sculpted hedges, a cooler of coarse sea salt at his feet. “I’m done with all of it!” Banyu’s voice ripped through the quiet, deliberately strained with anger. “This house, this power, *you*! It’s a cage. You think I want to be some fancy clan heir? I want my old life back!” Kirana’s face was a mask of disdain, perfectly playing her role. “You speak of your ‘old life’ as if it held meaning. You were a fishmonger, Banyu. You are nothing without House Angin, without the power you so carelessly wield.” Her tone was a blade, sharp and dismissive. “Careless? You want to see careless?” Banyu clenched his fists, forcing his soul echo to flare, an unstable, shimmering aura that distorted the air around him. The ornamental trees closest to him shivered, their life force momentarily rippling. “This isn’t power, it’s a curse! It nearly killed Paijo! You think I asked for any of this?” “A curse you are destined to master,” Kirana countered, her gaze unwavering. “A destiny you are too weak and too undisciplined to embrace.” She took a step forward, her own spiritual energy, cool and controlled, pushing against the wildness of his. “You disgrace our name with your theatrics. Better to let you fade into obscurity than allow you to tarnish our legacy.” Banyu laughed, a hollow sound. “Tarnish? What legacy? This whole place is a tomb! Empty, rotting from the inside out. There’s no honor here, Kirana, only dust and deceit.” He glanced towards the path leading deeper into the garden, where the mist seemed to gather in thicker veils. *Come on, old man. Take the bait.* A soft, almost imperceptible shift in the garden’s stillness. The scent of jasmine grew stronger, unnaturally so, as if someone had conjured its essence. A figure emerged from the swirling vapor, walking with a measured, serene pace. Semar. His usual gentle smile was absent, replaced by a look of detached disappointment. “Such a waste of potential, Banyu,” Semar said, his voice calm, yet it carried an edge that Banyu had never heard before. “To witness such a magnificent vessel reject its true purpose. It truly grieves me.” Banyu’s feigned anger solidified into genuine fury. “Purpose? Your purpose is to steal. To manipulate. To destroy. My mother’s journal told me enough. You call this grief, Semar? Or is it just irritation that your little puppet is finally cutting its strings?” Semar stopped a few paces away, his eyes now glinting with a cold, predatory light. The benevolent mask cracked, then fell away entirely. “The journal. Ah, yes, Hendra’s frantic scribblings. Such a pity she never understood. Never embraced the true path.” He sighed, a sound of mock sorrow. “You speak of stealing. I merely reclaim what is rightfully mine. The Angin lineage, Banyu, has always been destined for greatness. But your parents… they were too sentimental. Too weak.” His words hung in the air, heavy and foul. “What are you talking about?” The pretense was gone, replaced by a cold knot twisting beneath Banyu's ribs. Semar’s lips curved into a slow, unsettling smile. “They stood in the way. Your mother, especially. She was so convinced that your Resonance was an ‘affliction’ that needed protection. Protection from me. From the ritual that would elevate us all.” He shook his head, a dismissive gesture. “They loved you, Banyu. So very much. So much that they refused to see the larger picture. The glory that awaited. Such a frustrating impediment.” Then came a violent lurch in Banyu’s gut, bile stinging the back of his tongue. He knew. He didn’t need Semar to say it directly. The elder’s casual cruelty, the dismissive wave of his hand, the way he spoke of his parents as mere “impediments”—it all coalesced into a horrifying truth that punched the breath from Banyu’s lungs. They hadn’t abandoned him. They hadn’t left him. Semar had taken them. Murdered them. “No…” Banyu gasped, his voice a strangled rasp. His vision blurred at the edges, the vibrant greens of the garden fading to a sickly grey. The rage that had been a performance now burned with an intensity that threatened to consume him whole. He remembered his father’s fragmented memory, the argument, Semar’s obsession. It wasn’t just about the ritual. It was about *power*. Semar had been willing to kill to get it. “Oh, yes,” Semar purred, savoring Banyu’s horror. “Such a messy business. But necessary. You see, Banyu, your unique echo, your ‘affliction,’ as Hendra called it, is a key. The Angin soul is a rare vintage, especially one so unmarred by conscious manipulation. I have cultivated you, child. Like a prized fruit, ripening on the vine. And now, you are ready to be harvested.” He spread his hands wide, and the air around him shimmered, not with unstable vibration, but with a terrifying, controlled power. From the mist, spectral limbs began to coalesce, extending from Semar’s form like ghostly tendrils. They were not solid, yet they moved with a chilling sentience. Then, behind him, the mist swirled and solidified further, forming grotesque figures – faceless warriors composed of swirling spiritual energy, their forms shifting like smoke. Each one radiated a faint, mournful hum, a chorus of stolen vitality. The sheer, suffocating scale of Semar’s power pressed down like iron. He wasn’t just manipulating echoes; he was *consuming* them. The echoes of the fallen, the weak, the unlucky – all bent to his will, woven into his very being. The parasitic echo he’d placed on Banyu wasn’t just a siphon; it was a prelude, a taste. Semar was a collector of souls, a devourer of life force. Kirana, her face pale, lunged. Her hand glowed with controlled Gema Jiwa, aiming for Semar’s chest. But one of the spectral limbs snapped out, moving with impossible speed, and wrapped around her arm. It squeezed, and Kirana cried out, her own energy flaring, then dimming as if forcibly suppressed. She crumpled to her knees, gasping, her limbs spasming. Semar merely smiled, a genuine, chilling smile now that his deception was complete. “An admirable effort, Kirana. But ultimately futile. Your power is refined, but mine is… comprehensive.” He glanced at Banyu, his eyes burning with an unholy hunger. “The ritual begins now. Your soul will complete my ascension.”

The Serpent's Garden