EPISODE 8: BISIKAN MBAH RANGAWARSITA

EPISODE 8: BISIKAN MBAH RANGAWARSITA

Tiga hari sejak air ditemukan. Tiga hari Arka menyembunyikan rahasia di balik senyum tipisnya.

Setiap pagi, ia pergi dengan alasan mencari kayu bakar. Setiap sore, ia pulang dengan baju basah dan mangkuk tanah yang diisi air bening. Wulan tidak bertanya—mungkin karena ia terlalu lelah, atau mungkin karena ia takut dengan jawabannya. Tapi Raka... Raka tahu. Dan diamnya adalah perlindungan.

Hari ini, Arka berjalan lebih hati-hati. Ia membawa mangkuk tanah di balik bajunya, sekop kecil terselip di pinggang. Ragil sudah menunggu di bawah pohon besar, dengan sekopnya sendiri dan senyum lebar yang tak bisa ia sembunyikan.

"Lo lihat muka nenek gue kemarin?" bisiknya begitu Arka mendekat. "Dia heran kita tiba-tiba kuat. Gue bilang aja kita makan umbi liar."

Arka tersenyum. "Lo jaga mulut, ya."

"Gila aja gue bocor. Ini rahasia kita."

Mereka berjalan melewati semak-semak, melewati pohon kering, menuju lubang rahasia. Tapi hari ini, sesuatu berbeda.

***

Raka sedang tidak berburu.

Sejak dua hari lalu, ia memutuskan untuk tidak pergi terlalu jauh. Bukan karena malas—tapi karena ia ingin mengamati. Anaknya pulang dengan baju basah setiap hari. Baju basah berarti air. Tapi di Dusun Karang, tidak ada sungai. Tidak ada mata air. Satu-satunya sumber air adalah sumur kecil di tengah desa yang airnya keruh dan tinggal setengah.

Jadi dari mana Arka mendapat air?

Pagi itu, Raka mengikuti dari kejauhan. Ia tahu ini tidak baik—mengintai anak sendiri. Tapi ia juga tahu, anaknya menyembunyikan sesuatu yang besar. Dan sebagai ayah, ia harus tahu apa itu, agar bisa melindungi jika sesuatu terjadi.

Arka dan Ragil berjalan cepat, tidak menyadari bayangan yang mengikuti di belakang mereka. Raka bergerak diam-diam—ia pemburu, ini keahliannya. Langkahnya tidak bersuara, tubuhnya bersembunyi di balik semak.

Mereka berhenti di balik rimbunan semak berduri, di bawah pohon kering. Raka memicingkan mata. Ada apa di sana? Ia tidak bisa melihat jelas. Tapi ia melihat anak-anak itu membuka sesuatu di tanah—seperti pintu—lalu satu per satu turun ke dalam lubang.

Lubang. Mereka menggali lubang.

Raka ingin mendekat. Ingin melihat apa yang ada di dalam lubang itu. Tapi saat ia melangkah, suara batuk tua menghentikannya.

"Raka."

Raka menoleh. Di belakangnya, Mbah Ranggawarsita berdiri dengan tongkatnya. Wajah tua itu tenang, tapi matanya tajam—tajam seperti tahu apa yang sedang Raka lakukan.

"Mbah," Raka memberi hormat, meski setengah kesal karena diganggu.

Mbah Ranggawarsita tersenyum tipis. "Lagi ngapain di sini? Bukannya loe pergi berburu?"

"Saya... lagi cari jejak rusa." Raka berbohong, tidak pandai.

"Jejak rusa?" Mbah Ranggawarsita tertawa kecil. "Rusa sudah pergi dari sini sejak dua bulan lalu. Loe cari apa, sebenarnya?"

Raka diam. Ia tidak bisa bilang kalau ia mengikuti anaknya sendiri. Itu memalukan.

"Udah, pulang sana," kata Mbah Ranggawarsita. "Aku lihat anak-anak main di sini. Mungkin mereka cari kayu bakar. Bukan urusan loe."

Raka menatapnya ragu. Tapi Mbah Ranggawarsita tidak memberi ruang untuk protes. Ia berbalik, berjalan perlahan menjauh, memberi isyarat agar Raka mengikutinya.

Raka menghela napas. Ia melirik ke arah lubang itu sekali lagi, lalu mengikuti Mbah Ranggawarsita pergi.

Di dalam lubang, Arka tiba-tiba menengadah. Lagi-lagi perasaan itu. Ada yang memperhatikan. Tapi saat ia menengok ke atas, tidak ada siapa-siapa. Hanya langit biru dan semak-semak yang bergoyang.

"Kenapa?" tanya Ragil.

"Enggak... enggak apa-apa." Arka menggeleng, kembali mengambil air dengan mangkuknya.

***

Sore harinya, saat Arka pulang, Mbah Ranggawarsita sudah menunggu di depan gubuknya.

"Arka," panggilnya pelan. "Mampir bentar."

Arka menoleh. Jantungnya berdetak kencang. Apa kakek itu tahu? Apa ia melihat sesuatu?

Tapi ia menurut. Ia masuk ke gubuk Mbah Ranggawarsita—gubuk paling tua di Dusun Karang, penuh dengan barang-barang aneh yang tidak ia pahami.

Mbah Ranggawarsita duduk di atas tikar anyaman, menunjuk tempat di depannya. "Duduk."

Arka duduk, gugup.

Mbah Ranggawarsita tidak bicara. Ia hanya mengulurkan tangannya, membuka telapak tangan. Di sana, ada sebongkah batu kecil. Tapi batu itu... retak. Retak menjadi dua.

"Lo lihat ini?" tanyanya.

Arka mengangguk, tidak mengerti.

"Batu ini utuh kemarin. Aku simpan di bawah tumpukan ini." Ia menunjuk tumpukan barang di pojok. "Tidak ada yang menyentuh. Tidak ada yang jatuh. Tapi tiba-tiba retak."

Ia menatap Arka tajam. "Pas lo lewat depan gubuk ini kemarin, batu ini retak. Pas lo sentuh pintu gubuk ini, batu ini pecah."

Arka menarik napas. Ia ingat—kemarin ia memang lewat depan gubuk ini. Tangannya sempat menyentuh pintu kayu saat menghindari ranting. Apa itu sebabnya?

"Aku... aku enggak tahu, Mbah. Aku enggak sengaja."

"Enggak sengaja?" Mbah Ranggawarsita tersenyum. Bukan senyum menakutkan, tapi senyum tahu. "Lo pikir ini pertama kalinya?"

Arka diam.

"Aku lihat lo kemarin, di balik semak itu. Lo sama anak Ragil. Lo punya sekop—sekop kayu yang lebih keras dari seharusnya." Mbah Ranggawarsita berbicara pelan, tapi kata-katanya menghantam Arka seperti palu. "Lo pikir aku tidak tahu?"

Arka ingin lari. Ingin kabur. Tapi kakinya lemas.

"Lo takut?" Mbah Ranggawarsita bertanya.

Arka mengangguk.

"Bagus. Takut itu tanda lo waras." Mbah Ranggawarsita tertawa pelan. "Tapi lo juga harus tahu: lo tidak sendiri."

Arka menatapnya, tidak mengerti.

"Darah yang mengalir di tubuh lo—itu darah yang sama dengan darah yang mengalir di tubuh nenek moyang kita dulu." Mbah Ranggawarsita menatapnya dengan mata sayu. "Kau pewaris darah Karang. Darah pembangun."

"Darah... Karang?" Arka mengulang, tidak paham.

"Dusun Karang ini dinamai bukan karena tanahnya yang keras seperti karang." Mbah Ranggawarsita menjelaskan. "Tapi karena dulu, di tempat ini, hiduplah orang-orang dari Karang—klan yang bisa membangun apa pun. Mereka bisa membuat batu berbicara, kayu menari, tanah menjawab."

Arka terpaku. "Mereka... penyihir?"

"Bukan penyihir. Pembangun." Mbah Ranggawarsita menghela napas panjang. "Mereka tidak menghancurkan. Mereka membangun. Istana, benteng, jembatan, saluran air—semua dibuat dengan tangan dan... dan sesuatu yang lain. Sesuatu yang disebut mana."

"Mana?"

"Energi. Kekuatan. Yang ada di dalam darah kalian." Mbah Ranggawarsita menunjuk dada Arka. "Di situ, di dalam tubuh lo, ada mana yang sangat besar. Lebih besar dari yang pernah aku lihat."

Arka tidak bisa bicara. Kepalanya pusing mencerna semua informasi.

"Tapi perang," Mbah Ranggawarsita melanjutkan, suaranya menurun. "Perang besar, puluhan tahun lalu, menghancurkan segalanya. Klan Karang hampir punah. Yang selamat melarikan diri, menyembunyikan identitas, hidup seperti orang biasa. Aku pikir darah itu sudah mati."

Ia menatap Arka dengan mata berkaca-kaca. "Tapi ternyata belum. Darah itu hidup di dalam lo."

Arka membuka mulut, ingin bertanya banyak hal. Tapi sebelum ia sempat bicara, suara teriakan dari luar memotong.

"API! API DI PADANG RUMPUT!"

Arka dan Mbah Ranggawarsita menoleh ke luar. Seorang penggembala berlari memasuki desa, wajahnya pucat pasi, bajunya robek terkena semak. Ia berlari sambil berteriak, suaranya parau oleh ketakutan.

"LAUTAN API! DARI UTARA! BESAR SEKALI!"

Warga mulai berhamburan keluar dari gubuk masing-masing. Kepala Desa Joko berlari menghadap penggembala itu, memegang pundaknya. "Api apa? Seberapa besar?"

"Se... sebesar gunung! Angin dorong ke sini! Sebentar lagi sampai!"

Warga panik. Teriakan di mana-mana. Anak-anak menangis. Perempuan memanggil-manggil suami mereka.

Arka berdiri di pintu gubuk Mbah Ranggawarsita, menatap ke utara. Di kejauhan, langit mulai memerah. Bukan merah senja—tapi merah api. Api besar yang bergerak cepat, didorong angin kemarau yang kering.

"Arka." Mbah Ranggawarsita memegang pundaknya. "Lo tahu air yang lo temukan?"

Arka menoleh, terkejut. Mbah Ranggawarsita tahu tentang air?

"Aku tahu segalanya, Nak." Mbah Ranggawarsita tersenyum tipis. "Sekarang dengar: api ini bukan kebetulan. Ini ujian. Tapi lo punya sesuatu yang tidak dimiliki orang lain."

Ia menunjuk ke arah lubang rahasia. "Air itu. Dan keberanian lo."

Arka menelan ludah. Di luar, teriakan semakin keras. Warga berlari kacau, ada yang mengambil ember, ada yang hanya berdiri bingung.

"Apa... apa yang harus aku lakukan?" tanya Arka.

"Itu bukan pertanyaan yang benar." Mbah Ranggawarsita menatapnya tajam. "Pertanyaan yang benar: apa yang bisa lo lakukan?"

Arka terdiam. Lalu, tanpa sadar, tangannya meraba sekop kecil di balik bajunya.

Ia tahu jawabannya.

Ia berlari. Meninggalkan gubuk Mbah Ranggawarsita, meninggalkan teriakan warga, meninggalkan segalanya. Ia berlari ke arah lubang rahasia—ke arah air yang ia temukan.

Di belakangnya, Mbah Ranggawarsita berdiri di pintu gubuk, menatap langit merah dengan mata sayu.

"Darah Karang," bisiknya. "Tunjukkan apa yang bisa kau lakukan."

Di kejauhan, lautan api semakin dekat. Dan seorang anak kecil berlari sekencang-kencangnya, memegang rahasia yang bisa menyelamatkan mereka semua.

Atau membinasakan mereka.

Bersambung ke EPISODE 9: BAYANGAN DI PADANG RUMPUT...

Karakter: Arka (5 tahun), Raka (ayah), Mbah Ranggawarsita (sesepuh), Ragil (disebut), Kepala Desa Joko (pemimpin desa)

🎬 CINEMATIC MOMENT

Seorang kakek tua dengan mata bijak berdiri di pintu gubuk, menatap langit merah di kejauhan, di belakangnya seorang anak kecil berlari meninggalkan gubuk, ekspresi campuran antara harap dan cemas, latar belakang langit terbakar merah dan oranye, bayangan panjang, suasana mencekam dan epik.

EPISODE 8: THE WHISPER OF MBAH RANGAWARSITA

Three days since the water was found. Three days Arka had hidden his secret behind a thin smile.

Every morning, he left under the pretext of gathering firewood. Every afternoon, he returned with wet clothes and a clay bowl filled with clear water. Wulan didn't ask—perhaps because she was too tired, or perhaps because she was afraid of the answer. But Raka... Raka knew. And his silence was protection.

Today, Arka walked more carefully. He carried the clay bowl under his shirt, the small shovel tucked at his waist. Ragil was already waiting under the big tree, with his own shovel and a wide smile he couldn't hide.

"Did you see my grandmother's face yesterday?" he whispered as Arka approached. "She was surprised we suddenly had strength. I just said we ate wild tubers."

Arka smiled. "Keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"I'd never leak it. This is our secret."

They walked through the bushes, past the dead tree, toward the secret hole. But today, something was different.

***

Raka wasn't hunting.

For two days now, he had decided not to go too far. Not because he was lazy—but because he wanted to observe. His son came home with wet clothes every day. Wet clothes meant water. But in Dusun Karang, there was no river. No spring. The only water source was a small well in the middle of the village, its water murky and half empty.

So where was Arka getting water?

That morning, Raka followed from a distance. He knew this wasn't right—spying on his own child. But he also knew his son was hiding something big. And as a father, he needed to know what it was, so he could protect him if something happened.

Arka and Ragil walked quickly, unaware of the shadow following behind them. Raka moved silently—he was a hunter, this was his skill. His steps made no sound, his body hid behind bushes.

They stopped behind a thicket of thorny bushes, under a dead tree. Raka narrowed his eyes. What was there? He couldn't see clearly. But he saw the children open something in the ground—like a door—then one by one descend into a hole.

A hole. They had dug a hole.

Raka wanted to approach. Wanted to see what was inside that hole. But as he stepped forward, an old cough stopped him.

"Raka."

Raka turned. Behind him, Mbah Ranggawarsita stood with his staff. The old face was calm, but his eyes were sharp—sharp as if he knew exactly what Raka was doing.

"Elder," Raka greeted, though half-annoyed at being interrupted.

Mbah Ranggawarsita smiled faintly. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be hunting?"

"I'm... looking for deer tracks." Raka lied, not very convincingly.

"Deer tracks?" Mbah Ranggawarsita chuckled softly. "The deer left here two months ago. What are you really looking for?"

Raka fell silent. He couldn't say he was following his own son. That would be shameful.

"Go home," said Mbah Ranggawarsita. "I saw children playing here. Maybe they're looking for firewood. It's none of your business."

Raka looked at him doubtfully. But Mbah Ranggawarsita left no room for protest. He turned, walking slowly away, gesturing for Raka to follow.

Raka sighed. He glanced toward the hole one more time, then followed Mbah Ranggawarsita away.

Inside the hole, Arka suddenly looked up. Again that feeling. Someone was watching. But when he looked up, there was no one. Only blue sky and swaying bushes.

"What?" asked Ragil.

"Nothing... nothing." Arka shook his head, returning to scoop water with his bowl.

***

That afternoon, as Arka was returning home, Mbah Ranggawarsita was already waiting in front of his hut.

"Arka," he called softly. "Come in for a moment."

Arka turned. His heart pounded. Did the old man know? Had he seen something?

But he obeyed. He entered Mbah Ranggawarsita's hut—the oldest hut in Dusun Karang, filled with strange objects he didn't understand.

Mbah Ranggawarsita sat on a woven mat, pointing to a spot before him. "Sit."

Arka sat, nervous.

Mbah Ranggawarsita didn't speak. He just extended his hand, opening his palm. There, a small piece of stone. But the stone... was cracked. Split in two.

"Do you see this?" he asked.

Arka nodded, not understanding.

"This stone was whole yesterday. I kept it under this pile." He pointed to a pile of items in the corner. "No one touched it. Nothing fell on it. But suddenly it cracked."

He looked sharply at Arka. "When you passed in front of this hut yesterday, this stone cracked. When you touched this hut's door, this stone broke."

Arka caught his breath. He remembered—yesterday he did pass in front of this hut. His hand had touched the wooden door while avoiding a branch. Was that the reason?

"I... I don't know, Elder. I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to?" Mbah Ranggawarsita smiled. Not a frightening smile, but a knowing smile. "Do you think this is the first time?"

Arka was silent.

"I saw you yesterday, behind those bushes. You and Ragil. You had a shovel—a wooden shovel harder than it should be." Mbah Ranggawarsita spoke softly, but his words hit Arka like a hammer. "Did you think I wouldn't know?"

Arka wanted to run. Wanted to escape. But his legs were weak.

"Are you scared?" Mbah Ranggawarsita asked.

Arka nodded.

"Good. Fear means you're sane." Mbah Ranggawarsita chuckled softly. "But you also need to know: you're not alone."

Arka stared at him, not understanding.

"The blood flowing in your body—it's the same blood that flowed in our ancestors long ago." Mbah Ranggawarsita looked at him with misty eyes. "You are the heir of Karang blood. The blood of builders."

"Karang... blood?" Arka repeated, not comprehending.

"This Dusun Karang wasn't named because the land is as hard as coral." Mbah Ranggawarsita explained. "But because long ago, in this place, lived people of Karang—a clan that could build anything. They could make stone speak, wood dance, earth answer."

Arka was frozen. "They... were witches?"

"Not witches. Builders." Mbah Ranggawarsita took a long breath. "They didn't destroy. They built. Palaces, fortresses, bridges, aqueducts—all made with hands and... and something else. Something called mana."

"Mana?"

"Energy. Power. That flows in your blood." Mbah Ranggawarsita pointed at Arka's chest. "There, inside your body, is a great amount of mana. Greater than anything I've ever seen."

Arka couldn't speak. His head spun trying to process all the information.

"But the war," Mbah Ranggawarsita continued, his voice dropping. "The great war, decades ago, destroyed everything. The Karang clan was nearly wiped out. The survivors fled, hid their identities, lived like ordinary people. I thought that blood was extinct."

He looked at Arka with tearful eyes. "But it wasn't. That blood lives in you."

Arka opened his mouth, wanting to ask many things. But before he could speak, shouts from outside interrupted.

"FIRE! FIRE IN THE GRASSLAND!"

Arka and Mbah Ranggawarsita turned to look outside. A shepherd was running into the village, his face pale, his clothes torn by bushes. He ran screaming, his voice hoarse with fear.

"A SEA OF FIRE! FROM THE NORTH! HUGE!"

Villagers began rushing out of their huts. Village Chief Joko ran to the shepherd, grabbing his shoulders. "What fire? How big?"

"As... as big as a mountain! The wind is pushing it this way! It'll be here soon!"

Villagers panicked. Screams everywhere. Children crying. Women calling for their husbands.

Arka stood at the door of Mbah Ranggawarsita's hut, staring north. In the distance, the sky was beginning to redden. Not sunset red—but fire red. A great fire, moving fast, pushed by the dry seasonal wind.

"Arka." Mbah Ranggawarsita gripped his shoulder. "You know that water you found?"

Arka turned, surprised. Mbah Ranggawarsita knew about the water?

"I know everything, child." Mbah Ranggawarsita smiled faintly. "Now listen: this fire is no coincidence. It's a test. But you have something others don't."

He pointed toward the secret hole. "That water. And your courage."

Arka swallowed. Outside, the screams grew louder. Villagers ran chaotically, some grabbing buckets, some just standing confused.

"What... what should I do?" asked Arka.

"That's not the right question." Mbah Ranggawarsita looked at him sharply. "The right question is: what can you do?"

Arka was silent. Then, unconsciously, his hand reached for the small shovel under his shirt.

He knew the answer.

He ran. Leaving Mbah Ranggawarsita's hut, leaving the villagers' screams, leaving everything. He ran toward the secret hole—toward the water he had found.

Behind him, Mbah Ranggawarsita stood at his hut's door, staring at the red sky with misty eyes.

"Blood of Karang," he whispered. "Show what you can do."

In the distance, the sea of fire drew closer. And a small child ran as fast as he could, holding a secret that could save them all.

Or destroy them.

Continued in EPISODE 9: SHADOWS ON THE GRASSLAND...

Characters: Arka (5 years old), Raka (father), Mbah Ranggawarsita (village elder), Ragil (mentioned), Village Chief Joko (village leader)

🎬 CINEMATIC MOMENT

An old man with wise eyes stands at his hut door, staring at the red sky in the distance, behind him a small child runs away from the hut, expressions mixed with hope and anxiety, burning red and orange sky background, long shadows, tense and epic atmosphere.

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