Novels by Nawala Sastra

"The entire valley is bleeding, Ambe'?" Rangga stared at the black fog devouring the horizon, his voice tight. "That doesn't just happen, right? That’s not a weather pattern."Arung didn't look at him. His jaw was locked, his gaze fixed on the encroaching ink-stain in the sky. "It’s not weather. It’s a breach. The land is failing to contain what’s buried beneath it.""And you’re the one who keeps saying I’m the anchor," Rangga snapped, pacing the foyer. "If the land is failing, does that mean I’m failing? Is this my fault?""Your biology is shifting, Rangga. Your blood is syncing with the Buntu lineage. You’re not failing; you’re just… waking up to a nightmare.""I don't want to wake up to it. I want to leave.""You couldn't survive a mile outside these gates right now," Arung said, finally turning. His eyes were wide, desperate. "The Datu are hunting. You’re a beacon. Your blood is singing to every predator in these highlands.""Then I’ll go where they can’t find me.""There is nowhe

The temple’s maw seemed to swallow the mountain air, but Arung didn't step inside. Instead, he whirled around, his grip on Rangga’s arm turning into a frantic, hurried pull."Move. Now, Rangga. We aren’t finishing this tonight," Arung barked, his face paler than the moon rising behind the peaks."Wait, what? You just said we had to finish it before the moon rose! What happened to the 'final bill'?" Rangga stumbled, his boots sliding on the moss-slicked stone."The plan changed. My patience for your survival has hit its limit.""My survival? That’s rich coming from the guy who shoved me into a knife fight ten minutes ago."Arung didn't answer. He shoved Rangga toward the idling SUV, his movements erratic, shedding his usual, razor-sharp composure.Inside the mansion’s foyer, the silence was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock. Arung pushed Rangga toward a velvet armchair in the parlor, grabbing a first-aid kit from a side table."Sit. Don't move,"

"You expect me to just walk out there with these glowing lines crawling under my skin?" Rangga glared at his own arms, the crimson light pulsing with every ragged breath he took.Arung stood by the obsidian-black window, adjusting his cufflinks with infuriating calm. "The marks are a symptom, Rangga. The solution is at the temple.""A solution? You mean another ceremony? More blood? More 'contracts'?" Rangga threw a pillow at the door. It thudded softly against the wood, which rippled like liquid ink. "I’m not a battery for your family’s ghost stories.""You’re an anchor. And right now, you’re dragging. If we don’t reach the temple, the bond will snap, and the backlash will turn your internal organs to mush."Rangga froze. "You didn't mention the 'mush' part yesterday.""I thought you were smarter than that. Apparently, I was wrong.""Look, if I’m dying anyway, why go to a temple? Why not just let me hop on a bike and disappear?"Arung crossed the room in two long strides, his hand sn

The blade bit into Rangga’s finger. A single, dark bead of blood welled up, shimmering with an impossible, oily iridescence before he pressed it onto the parchment. The moment the seal was made, the air in the dining hall didn't just move; it shrieked."There. Happy?" Rangga wheezed, his skin suddenly prickling with a cold, electric static.Arung watched the ink and blood swirl together. "I’m not the one who needs to be happy, Rangga. The legacy is.""My head... it feels like it’s splitting open." Rangga gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white."That’s the bond taking root. Come on. You aren't staying here." Arung was at his side in a heartbeat, his arm sliding around Rangga’s waist like a steel band."Don't touch me... " Rangga’s protest died in his throat as a wave of nausea rolled through him. The room began to tilt."Easy. You're shaking.""I’m fine. Just get your hands off me.""You’re burning up. If I let go, you’ll hit the floor.""Then let me hit it. I’d rather die t

"Get in."Arung shoved Rangga toward the heavy teak door of the bathroom. The room was a sprawling, stone-tiled cavern that looked more like an ancient spa than a private suite."A bath? You’re kidding me, right? I’m covered in pig muck, and you want me to bathe like some pampered pet?" Rangga spat, wiping a streak of filth from his forehead."You smell like a farm animal. It’s insulting to the table," Arung said, his voice flat. "Clean yourself. You have twenty minutes before dinner. Don't test my patience by trying to find a drain to crawl through.""What if I don't?"Arung stepped forward, crowding Rangga against the vanity. "Then I’ll wash you myself. And I promise, it won't be as gentle as you'd like."Rangga’s heart hammered against his ribs. He shoved Arung’s shoulder, but the man didn't budge—he was as immovable as the mountain itself. "You’re twisted. You know that?""I’m waiting, Rangga."*The dining hall was lit by dozens of flickering candles, the scent of burning sandalw

The black SUV glided through iron gates that looked less like a perimeter and more like a fortress. Rangga watched the Torajan highlands blur into a hazy, emerald nightmare."You’re staring, Rangga. Don't worry, the view gets worse once you realize there's no way out."Rangga didn't look at Arung. "Is this it? A glorified cage in the middle of nowhere? You're a kidnapper, Arung. That's a jail sentence, not a business model."Arung chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through the leather seat. "In Jakarta, maybe. Here? You’re just a debt being collected. Call it an inheritance.""I'm not an object.""You’re a Langi. You were an object the second you were born into that bloodline."The car stopped. A guard opened the door, and the mountain air hit them—crisp, thin, and smelling of damp soil and ancient cedar. Arung stepped out, his suit immaculate against the sprawling, dark wood of the Buntu mansion."Welcome home, Rangga," Arung said, gesturing toward the imposing doorway."I’m not sta