EPISODE 12: BELAJAR MENGENDALIKAN

EPISODE 12: BELAJAR MENGENDALIKAN

Arka membuka mata pada pagi kedua setelah pertempuran.

Cahaya matahari menembus celah-celah dedaunan, hangat di kulitnya. Untuk beberapa detik, ia hanya berbaring, merasakan napasnya sendiri—masih hidup, masih bernyawa. Lalu ingatan itu datang: harimau, Ragil, boneka yang tiba-tiba lahir dari tangannya, dan rasa sakit yang luar biasa saat mana-nya habis.

“Lo bangun!”

Wajah Ragil muncul di atasnya, mata sembab, tapi senyum lebar. “Gue kira lo enggak bakal bangun! Dua hari, Ra! Lo pingsan dua hari!”

Arka mencoba duduk. Tubuhnya lemas, tapi tidak sesakit sebelumnya. Ia membuka Jendela Status:

------------------------------------
NAMA: ARKA
USIA: 7 TAHUN
TIER MANA: F (PEMULA)
MANA POOL: 13/50 (REGENERASI 1 POINT PER 6 JAM)
SKILL TREE:
- PRODUCTION MAGIC [LEVEL 1 - 5% TERKUASAI]
- MARIONETTE [LEVEL 1 - 1% TERKUASAI - EMERGENCY UNLOCK]
- STATUS CHECK [LEVEL 1 - 15% TERKUASAI]
------------------------------------

Naik jadi 13/50. Dua hari regenerasi. Dan Marionette—masih 1%, tapi sudah terbuka.

“Ragil,” bisiknya. “Lo enggak apa-apa?”

Ragil menunduk. Tangannya meremas ujung kain. “Lo nanya gue? Lo yang hampir mati, nanya gue?” Suaranya serak. “Gue... gue nyaris bikin lo mati, Ra. Kalau lo enggak ngehalangin harimau itu...”

“Tapi lo selamat.” Arka meraih tangan sahabatnya. “Itu yang penting.”

Ragil mengangkat wajah, matanya basah. “Gue janji, Ra. Gue enggak bakal ceroboh lagi. Gue bakal jagain lo, bukan sebaliknya.”

Arka tersenyum lemah. “Sama-sama, Ra. Kita jagain satu sama lain.”

***

Ratmi adalah orang pertama yang melihat Arka bangun. Ia menjerit—bukan teriak kaget, tapi teriak bahagia—lalu berlari memeluknya.

“Nak, kau selamat! Syukur pada dewa!” Ia menarik diri, menatap Arka dengan mata berkaca-kaca. Lalu, tiba-tiba, ia berlutut. “Aku... aku minta maaf. Aku pernah ragu padamu. Tapi sekarang aku tahu... kau bukan anak biasa. Kau... kau titisan dewa.”

Arka bingung. “Bi... bukan, Mbek. Aku cuma...”

“Sudah, Nak.” Ratmi menggeleng. “Aku lihat sendiri. Kayu itu hidup. Berubah jadi prajurit. Hanya dewa yang bisa lakukan itu.”

Raka datang, membuyarkan situasi. “Ratmi, biarkan dia istirahat dulu. Nanti kita bicara.” Ia membantu Arka berdiri. “Nak, kau bisa jalan?”

Arka mengangguk, meski kakinya goyah. “Ayah, aku... aku mau coba sesuatu.”

***

Hari itu, Arka memulai latihannya.

Di sebuah tempat agak jauh dari perkemahan, di tanah lapang yang cukup terang, ia duduk bersila menghadap tiga potong kayu. Raka dan Ragil menjaganya dari kejauhan, sementara yang lain sibuk dengan urusan masing-masing.

“Fokus,” bisik Arka pada diri sendiri. “Boneka itu lahir saat kau takut. Saat kau ingin lindungi Ragil. Sekarang... coba rasakan lagi.”

Ia memejam. Sensasi hangat menjalar—tapi berbeda. Dulu, saat darurat, mana mengalir deras seperti banjir. Sekarang, seperti aliran kecil yang harus ia pompa sendiri.

Kayu itu... tidak bergerak.

Satu jam. Dua jam. Keringat bercucuran. Mana turun dari 13 ke 10, lalu 8, lalu 5. Tapi kayu itu tetap diam.

Ragil mendekat, membawa air. “Istirahat dulu, Ra. Nanti lo pingsan lagi.”

Arka menghela napas frustrasi. “Kenapa susah banget, Ra? Waktu darurat, gue bisa. Sekarang... enggak gerak sama sekali.”

“Mungkin,” suara Kang Bijak terdengar dari belakang, “karena waktu darurat, kau tidak berpikir. Kau hanya bertindak. Sekarang kau berpikir terlalu keras.”

Arka menoleh. Kang Bijak berdiri agak jauh, seperti biasa, dengan senyum misteriusnya.

“Marionette bukan tentang memaksa,” lanjut Kang Bijak. “Tapi tentang mengalirkan kehendak. Kayu itu tidak hidup—kau yang memberi nyawa. Tapi kau tidak bisa memberi nyawa kalau kau sendiri tegang.”

Ia berbalik, berjalan pergi, meninggalkan Arka dengan kata-kata itu.

Arka menatap punggungnya. Ingatan tentang cahaya di tangan Kang Bijak muncul lagi. Ia ingin bertanya, tapi belum berani.

“Mengalirkan kehendak,” bisiknya. “Bukan memaksa.”

Ia memejam lagi. Kali ini, ia tidak mencoba memompa mana. Ia hanya membayangkan—membayangkan boneka itu, bentuknya, gerakannya. Seperti saat ia membuat sekop dulu, dengan perasaan "pengen banget".

Dan tiba-tiba...

Jari telunjuk boneka itu bergerak.

Hanya satu milimeter. Tapi bergerak.

Arka membuka mata, napasnya memburu. Di depannya, boneka itu masih diam. Tapi ia tahu, ia merasakannya—sambungan tipis antara dirinya dan kayu itu.

“Ragil! Lo lihat?!” serunya.

Ragil menggeleng. “Lihat apa? Kayu itu diam aja.”

“Jarinya! Bergerak! Dikit banget, tapi gerak!”

Ragil mengerjap. “Serius? Coba lagi!”

Arka memejam lagi. Kali ini lebih percaya diri. Aliran hangat itu—ia biarkan mengalir, tidak dipaksa. Dan jari boneka itu bergerak lagi. Lalu berhenti. Lalu bergerak lagi.

Ragil berjingkrak. “GILA! LO BENERAN BISA!”

***

Hari ketiga.

Arka sudah bisa menggerakkan seluruh jari boneka. Tangan dan kaki masih kaku, tapi setidaknya boneka itu bisa berdiri tanpa jatuh.

Ia belajar mengatur konsumsi mana: 1 boneka aktif butuh 5 mana per jam. Dengan mana pool 50, ia bisa mengoperasikan 1 boneka selama 10 jam nonstop—tapi itu berarti tidak ada cadangan untuk keadaan darurat.

Ragil duduk di sampingnya, mencatat semua yang Arka katakan di tanah dengan ranting. “Jadi, 5 mana per jam... kalau lo mau jaga semalaman, butuh 40 mana...”

“Iya. Tapi kalau ada serangan, gue harus punya cadangan.”

“Berarti lo harus regenerasi pas jaga?”

Arka menghela napas. “Rumit, Ra. Tapi gue harus belajar.”

***

Hari keempat.

Boneka itu berjalan tiga langkah sebelum jatuh.

Arka bersorak. Raka yang melihat dari kejauhan tersenyum bangga. Wulan membawakan makanan, memaksa Arka istirahat.

“Nak, kau harus makan. Mana-mu tidak akan pulih kalau kau tidak istirahat.”

Arka menuruti, meski pikirannya masih pada boneka itu.

Di perkemahan, Ratmi membagi tugas baru. Laki-laki dewasa—Raka, Mulya, Jasio—bergantian berburu dan jaga malam. Perempuan—Ratmi, istri Mulya, Surti—masak dan urus anak. Dan Arka... Arka fokus latihan. Ragil jadi asistennya, mengambil air, membawa makanan, mencatat progres.

Mulya, yang lukanya mulai sembuh, mendekati Arka saat sore. Ia membawa sesuatu—sepotong kayu bagus, keras, kering.

“Untuk latihan,” katanya singkat. “Yang ini lebih bagus dari kayu biasa. Mungkin bisa jadi boneka yang lebih kuat.”

Arka menerimanya. “Makasih, Pak Mulya.”

Mulya mengangguk. Lalu, ragu-ragu, ia berkata, “Aku... aku minta maaf. Dulu aku marah, salahkan kau. Tapi sekarang aku lihat... mungkin ini memang jalanmu.”

Arka tidak tahu harus menjawab apa. Ia hanya tersenyum.

***

Hari kelima.

Tiga boneka berdiri di depan Arka.

Bukan boneka prajurit seperti yang pertama—tapi boneka sederhana, dengan bentuk kasar. Tapi mereka berdiri. Mereka bergerak. Satu mengambil air dari mata air, satu memotong kayu kecil, satu berdiri diam di pos jaga.

Ratmi menangis melihatnya. “Dia benar-benar dewa,” isaknya. “Lihat, boneka itu bekerja! Membantu kita!”

Raka menatap Arka dengan perasaan campur aduk. Bangga, takut, haru. Anaknya—anak tujuh tahun—bisa melakukan hal yang bahkan tak pernah ia bayangkan.

Arka duduk di tengah, berkonsentrasi. Tiga boneka aktif berarti 15 mana per jam. Mana-nya 45/50—cukup untuk latihan singkat. Ia belajar membagi fokus, mengirim perintah ke tiga arah berbeda.

Tiba-tiba...

Pandangannya berubah.

Bukan buta—tapi seperti pindah tempat. Ia melihat dirinya sendiri dari kejauhan. Tubuhnya duduk bersila di tanah. Di sampingnya, Ragil. Di belakang, tenda-tenda perkemahan.

Ia melihat dari mata boneka yang berjaga.

Arka tersentak. Konsentrasinya buyar. Boneka-boneka itu jatuh.

“Ra? Lo kenapa?” Ragil panik.

Arka terengah-engah. “Gue... gue lihat diri gue sendiri. Dari mata boneka. Kayak... gue ada di dua tempat.”

Ragil mengerjap. “Maksud lo? Lo bisa lihat lewat boneka?”

Arka mengangguk pelan. “Kayaknya... iya. Kalau gue fokus, gue bisa lihat apa yang dilihat boneka.”

“GILA! Itu keren banget, Ra! Lo bisa jadi mata-mata!”

Arka tersenyum, tapi segera berubah serius. “Tapi butuh mana. Pas tadi, gue ngerasa turun banyak.”

Ia membuka Jendela Status:

MANA POOL: 30/50

Turun 15 dalam beberapa detik. Mahal. Tapi sepadan.

***

Malam harinya, setelah makan, Arka duduk dekat api. Ragil di sampingnya, Raka dan Wulan agak jauh. Kang Bijak, seperti biasa, duduk sendiri agak terpisah.

“Kang Bijak,” panggil Arka tiba-tiba.

Kang Bijak menoleh. “Ya, Nak?”

“Kang tahu tentang Marionette? Tentang boneka?”

Kang Bijak diam sejenak. Lalu tersenyum—senyum yang sama, tidak memberi jawaban. “Sedikit. Sangat sedikit.”

“Tapi Kang bilang, 'Marionette setelah 500 tahun'.”

Kang Bijak terkejut. Matanya melebar—untuk pertama kalinya, Arka melihatnya benar-benar terkejut. “Kau... kau dengar itu?”

Arka mengangguk. “Waktu aku pingsan. Aku dengar suara Kang. 'Marionette... setelah 500 tahun, akhirnya muncul lagi. Dunia akan berubah. Aku harus memilih: membantu, atau menghentikanmu?'”

Suasana hening. Raka dan Wulan menatap Kang Bijak dengan waspada. Ragil meraih tongkat di sampingnya, siap siaga.

Kang Bijak menunduk. Bahunya turun naik—seperti menghela napas panjang.

“Kau benar-benar mendengarnya,” bisiknya. “Padahal kau pingsan. Mana-mu habis. Tapi kau masih bisa mendengar.”

Ia mengangkat wajah. Matanya—untuk pertama kalinya—terlihat tua. Sangat tua. Lebih tua dari Mbah Ranga.

“Dengar, Nak. Aku belum bisa cerita sekarang. Tapi satu hal yang pasti: aku bukan musuhmu. Bukan juga temanmu. Aku hanya... saksi. Yang melihat semuanya dari awal.”

“Dari awal?”

“Dari awal mula darah Karang. Dari saat Marionette pertama kali lahir. Dari saat dunia hampir hancur karenanya.” Kang Bijak berdiri. “Sekarang, istirahatlah. Besok kau harus masuk hutan. Dan di sana, kau akan menemukan lebih banyak jawaban.”

Ia berbalik, berjalan menjauh. Tapi sebelum hilang dalam kegelapan, ia menoleh sekali lagi.

“Oh, satu lagi. Bonekamu yang jaga... bagus. Tapi jangan hanya jaga dari dalam. Suruh dia jaga dari luar. Lihat apa yang mengintai di kegelapan.”

Arka tertegun. Lalu segera mengirim perintah ke boneka jaga—yang selama ini diam di pinggir perkemahan—untuk berjalan lebih jauh, ke batas cahaya api, ke tepi hutan.

Dia memejam, menghubungkan pandangannya dengan boneka itu.

Gelap. Hanya batang-batang pohon dan semak-semak. Tapi lalu... sesuatu bergerak.

Bayangan. Manusia? Mungkin. Bersembunyi di balik semak, mengamati perkemahan.

Arka ingin berteriak, tapi tiba-tiba sambungan itu putus. Mana-nya turun drastis—dari 30 ke 20.

Ia membuka mata, jantung berdebar. “Ayah! Ada seseorang di luar! Di semak-semak! Aku lihat dari mata boneka!”

Raka langsung bangkit, meraih parang. Mulya dan Jasio ikut siaga. Mereka membentuk lingkaran, melindungi perempuan dan anak-anak.

Tapi tidak ada yang muncul. Hanya angin malam dan suara jangkrik.

Raka menatap Arka. “Kau yakin?”

Arka mengangguk yakin. “Aku lihat. Bayangan. Bersembunyi.”

Raka menghela napas. “Kita tingkatkan jaga. Malam ini, kita bergantian tidak tidur. Dan bonekamu... suruh dia patroli terus.”

Arka mengangguk. Ia mengirim perintah ke boneka itu—satu-satunya yang masih aktif—untuk berjalan keliling, mengelilingi perkemahan, mencari bayangan itu.

Tapi bayangan itu sudah pergi. Meninggalkan jejak—jejak kaki di tanah lembab—dan bisikan di angin malam.

“Marionette... sudah waktunya...”

Arka menggigil. Bukan karena dingin.

Di kegelapan hutan, dua titik merah menyala lagi. Makhluk itu masih di sana. Tersenyum. Menunggu.

Dan di sampingnya, sesosok lain berdiri. Manusia. Berjubah hitam.

Wira.

“Besok,” bisik Wira. “Besok mereka masuk. Dan kita sambut.”

Makhluk itu mengangguk. Lalu mereka berdua menghilang dalam kegelapan, meninggalkan Hutan Terlarang yang diam, menunggu.

Malam itu, di tepi hutan, seorang anak kecil duduk dengan tiga boneka kayu di sekelilingnya. Ia baru belajar mengendalikan mereka. Ia baru bisa melihat dari mata mereka. Dan ia baru tahu: mereka tidak sendiri.

Ada yang mengintai. Menunggu. Dan besok, mereka akan masuk ke sarangnya.

Bersambung...

Karakter yang muncul: Arka, Ragil, Raka, Wulan, Mbah Ranga, Ratmi, Mulya, istri Mulya, anak-anak Mulya, Surti, Jasio, Kang Bijak (semakin misterius), Bayangan misterius (belum terlihat), Wira (utusan Bajak), Makhluk merah di hutan.

EPISODE 12: LEARNING TO CONTROL

Arka opened his eyes on the second morning after the battle.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, warm on his skin. For a few seconds, he just lay there, feeling his own breath—still alive, still breathing. Then the memories came: the tiger, Ragil, the puppet born from his hands, and the excruciating pain when his mana ran out.

"You're awake!"

Ragil's face appeared above him, eyes puffy but smiling wide. "I thought you'd never wake up! Two days, Ra! You were unconscious for two days!"

Arka tried to sit up. His body was weak, but not as painful as before. He opened his Status Window:

------------------------------------
NAME: ARKA
AGE: 7 YEARS
MANA TIER: F (BEGINNER)
MANA POOL: 13/50 (REGENERATION 1 POINT PER 6 HOURS)
SKILL TREE:
- PRODUCTION MAGIC [LEVEL 1 - 5% MASTERED]
- MARIONETTE [LEVEL 1 - 1% MASTERED - EMERGENCY UNLOCK]
- STATUS CHECK [LEVEL 1 - 15% MASTERED]
------------------------------------

Up to 13/50. Two days of regeneration. And Marionette—still 1%, but unlocked.

"Ragil," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

Ragil looked down. His hands twisted the edge of his cloth. "You're asking me? You almost died, and you're asking me?" His voice was hoarse. "I... I nearly got you killed, Ra. If you hadn't blocked that tiger..."

"But you're alive." Arka reached for his friend's hand. "That's what matters."

Ragil looked up, his eyes wet. "I promise, Ra. I won't be clumsy anymore. I'll protect you, not the other way around."

Arka smiled weakly. "Together, Ra. We protect each other."

***

Ratmi was the first to see Arka awake. She screamed—not in shock, but in joy—then ran to hug him.

"Child, you're alive! Thank the gods!" She pulled back, looking at Arka with tear-filled eyes. Then, suddenly, she knelt. "I... I apologize. I doubted you before. But now I know... you're no ordinary child. You're... a deity incarnate."

Arka was confused. "I'm... no, Ma'am. I'm just..."

"It's alright, child." Ratmi shook her head. "I saw it myself. The wood came alive. Turned into a warrior. Only a god could do that."

Raka came, interrupting the moment. "Ratmi, let him rest first. We'll talk later." He helped Arka stand. "Son, can you walk?"

Arka nodded, though his legs were shaky. "Father, I... I want to try something."

***

That day, Arka began his training.

In a clearing a little away from camp, on open ground with enough light, he sat cross-legged facing three pieces of wood. Raka and Ragil watched from a distance, while the others went about their business.

"Focus," Arka whispered to himself. "That puppet was born when you were afraid. When you wanted to protect Ragil. Now... try to feel that again."

He closed his eyes. That warm sensation spread—but different. Back then, in emergency, mana flowed like a flood. Now, like a small stream he had to pump himself.

The wood... didn't move.

One hour. Two hours. Sweat poured. Mana dropped from 13 to 10, then 8, then 5. But the wood remained still.

Ragil approached, bringing water. "Rest first, Ra. You'll pass out again."

Arka sighed in frustration. "Why is it so hard, Ra? In an emergency, I could do it. Now... nothing moves at all."

"Maybe," came Kang Bijak's voice from behind, "because in an emergency, you don't think. You just act. Now you're thinking too hard."

Arka turned. Kang Bijak stood a little distance away, as usual, with his mysterious smile.

"Marionette isn't about forcing," Kang Bijak continued. "It's about channeling will. The wood isn't alive—you give it life. But you can't give life if you're tense yourself."

He turned and walked away, leaving Arka with those words.

Arka stared at his back. The memory of the light in Kang Bijak's hand surfaced again. He wanted to ask, but didn't dare.

"Channeling will," he whispered. "Not forcing."

He closed his eyes again. This time, he didn't try to pump mana. He just imagined—imagined the puppet, its form, its movements. Like when he made shovels before, with that feeling of "really wanting it."

And suddenly...

The puppet's index finger moved.

Just a millimeter. But it moved.

Arka opened his eyes, breathing hard. Before him, the puppet was still. But he knew, he felt it—that thin connection between himself and the wood.

"Ragil! Did you see?!" he exclaimed.

Ragil shook his head. "See what? The wood's just sitting there."

"Its finger! It moved! Just a tiny bit, but it moved!"

Ragil blinked. "Seriously? Try again!"

Arka closed his eyes again. This time more confident. That warm flow—he let it flow, not forced. And the puppet's finger moved again. Then stopped. Then moved again.

Ragil jumped with joy. "CRAZY! YOU REALLY CAN DO IT!"

***

Day three.

Arka could now move all the puppet's fingers. Arms and legs were still stiff, but at least the puppet could stand without falling.

He learned to manage mana consumption: 1 active puppet costs 5 mana per hour. With a 50 mana pool, he could operate 1 puppet for 10 hours nonstop—but that meant no reserve for emergencies.

Ragil sat beside him, recording everything Arka said on the ground with a stick. "So, 5 mana per hour... if you want to guard all night, you need 40 mana..."

"Yeah. But if there's an attack, I need reserves."

"So you need to regenerate while guarding?"

Arka sighed. "Complicated, Ra. But I have to learn."

***

Day four.

The puppet took three steps before falling.

Arka cheered. Raka, watching from a distance, smiled proudly. Wulan brought food, forcing Arka to rest.

"Son, you need to eat. Your mana won't recover if you don't rest."

Arka obeyed, though his mind was still on the puppet.

At camp, Ratmi assigned new duties. Adult men—Raka, Mulya, Jasio—took turns hunting and night watch. Women—Ratmi, Mulya's wife, Surti—cooked and cared for children. And Arka... Arka focused on training. Ragil became his assistant, fetching water, bringing food, recording progress.

Mulya, whose wound was healing, approached Arka in the afternoon. He brought something—a good piece of wood, hard, dry.

"For training," he said simply. "This is better than ordinary wood. Might make a stronger puppet."

Arka accepted it. "Thank you, Mr. Mulya."

Mulya nodded. Then, hesitantly, he said, "I... I apologize. Back then I was angry, blamed you. But now I see... maybe this is your path."

Arka didn't know what to answer. He just smiled.

***

Day five.

Three puppets stood before Arka.

Not warrior puppets like the first one—but simple puppets, crudely shaped. But they stood. They moved. One fetched water from the spring, one chopped small wood, one stood guard at the perimeter.

Ratmi cried seeing it. "He truly is a deity," she sobbed. "Look, the puppets work! Helping us!"

Raka looked at Arka with mixed feelings. Pride, fear, emotion. His son—a seven-year-old—could do things he never even imagined.

Arka sat in the middle, concentrating. Three active puppets meant 15 mana per hour. His mana was 45/50—enough for a short training session. He learned to divide focus, sending commands to three different directions.

Suddenly...

His vision shifted.

Not blind—but like moving to another place. He saw himself from a distance. His body sitting cross-legged on the ground. Ragil beside him. Camp tents behind.

He was seeing through the eyes of the guard puppet.

Arka gasped. His concentration broke. The puppets fell.

"Ra? You okay?" Ragil panicked.

Arka panted. "I... I saw myself. Through the puppet's eyes. Like... I was in two places at once."

Ragil blinked. "You mean? You can see through the puppet?"

Arka nodded slowly. "I think... yes. If I focus, I can see what the puppet sees."

"CRAZY! That's so cool, Ra! You can be a spy!"

Arka smiled, but quickly turned serious. "But it costs mana. When I did that, I felt it drop a lot."

He opened his Status Window:

MANA POOL: 30/50

Down 15 in seconds. Expensive. But worth it.

***

That night, after dinner, Arka sat near the fire. Ragil beside him, Raka and Wulan a little apart. Kang Bijak, as usual, sat alone a bit separated.

"Kang Bijak," Arka called suddenly.

Kang Bijak turned. "Yes, child?"

"Do you know about Marionette? About the puppets?"

Kang Bijak was silent for a moment. Then smiled—that same smile that gave no answers. "A little. Very little."

"But you said, 'Marionette after 500 years'."

Kang Bijak was surprised. His eyes widened—for the first time, Arka saw him truly surprised. "You... you heard that?"

Arka nodded. "When I was unconscious. I heard your voice. 'Marionette... after 500 years, finally it appears again. The world will change. I must choose: help, or stop you?'"

Silence fell. Raka and Wulan looked at Kang Bijak warily. Ragil reached for a stick beside him, ready.

Kang Bijak looked down. His shoulders rose and fell—like a long sigh.

"You really heard it," he whispered. "Though you were unconscious. Your mana was empty. But you still heard."

He looked up. His eyes—for the first time—looked old. Very old. Older than Mbah Ranga.

"Listen, child. I can't tell you everything now. But one thing is certain: I'm not your enemy. Not your friend either. I'm just... a witness. Who saw everything from the beginning."

"From the beginning?"

"From the very start of Karang blood. From when Marionette was first born. From when the world nearly ended because of it." Kang Bijak stood. "Now, rest. Tomorrow you must enter the forest. And there, you'll find more answers."

He turned, walking away. But before disappearing into darkness, he glanced back once.

"Oh, one more thing. Your guard puppet... good. But don't just guard from inside. Have it guard outside. See what lurks in the darkness."

Arka froze. Then immediately sent a command to the guard puppet—which had been standing still at the camp's edge—to walk further, to the firelight's boundary, to the forest's edge.

He closed his eyes, connecting his vision to the puppet.

Dark. Only tree trunks and bushes. But then... something moved.

A shadow. Human? Perhaps. Hiding behind a bush, watching the camp.

Arka wanted to shout, but suddenly the connection broke. His mana dropped drastically—from 30 to 20.

He opened his eyes, heart pounding. "Father! Someone's out there! In the bushes! I saw through the puppet!"

Raka immediately stood, grabbing his machete. Mulya and Jasio also readied themselves. They formed a circle, protecting the women and children.

But nothing appeared. Only night wind and cricket sounds.

Raka looked at Arka. "Are you sure?"

Arka nodded firmly. "I saw. A shadow. Hiding."

Raka sighed. "We increase security. Tonight, we take turns staying awake. And your puppet... have it patrol continuously."

Arka nodded. He sent a command to that puppet—the only one still active—to walk around, circling the camp, searching for that shadow.

But the shadow was gone. Leaving footprints in the damp soil—and a whisper on the night wind.

"Marionette... it's time..."

Arka shivered. Not from cold.

In the forest darkness, two red dots glowed again. That creature was still there. Smiling. Waiting.

And beside it, another figure stood. Human. Black-robed.

Wira.

"Tomorrow," Wira whispered. "Tomorrow they enter. And we welcome them."

The creature nodded. Then they both vanished into darkness, leaving the Forbidden Forest silent, waiting.

That night, at the forest's edge, a child sat with three wooden puppets around him. He had just learned to control them. He had just learned to see through their eyes. And he had just learned: they were not alone.

Something lurked. Waiting. And tomorrow, they would enter its lair.

To be continued...

Characters featured: Arka, Ragil, Raka, Wulan, Mbah Ranga, Ratmi, Mulya, Mulya's wife, Mulya's children, Surti, Jasio, Kang Bijak (increasingly mysterious), Mysterious shadow (unseen), Wira (Bajak's envoy), Red-eyed creature in the forest.

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