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Eighteen
Data de publicação:
2026-07-07 20:49:28
Último capítulo
Toward the Sun Thirty Five
Pramesti pulled the blanket tighter around herself. Warm. Wonderfully warm. Then, a moment later, something felt wrong.Very wrong. She wasn’t at home.The unfamiliar chill in the air jolted her awake. She shot upright and looked around in confusion.“What is this?”She pushed aside the large black cloth she had mistaken for a blanket. It clearly wasn’t bedding. It smelled strange.The first thing she noticed was a campfire crackling a short distance away. She was lying on another broad piece of cloth spread over the ground. Dense trees and thick undergrowth surrounded her on all sides. Then she heard the sound of running water.A river.The question was: where?The memories came rushing back. The flooded river. Ringin Pitu. The madman Dewaningrat.And the mysterious swordsman who had appeared out of nowhere and killed the old man disguised as a woman with a single stroke.Pramesti glanced around again. Where was he?“So, you’re awake.”She spun around. The man appeared from behind he
Toward the Sun Thirty Four
Senopati Bantala pulled his mask back over his face the moment he heard the distant thunder of approaching hooves. He stepped closer to the massive tree behind him, blending into the darkness beneath its thick canopy, hidden from the bright moonlight flooding the night.His hand drifted to the hilt of his sword as the horse approached at a slow pace.Then he caught a familiar scent.Instantly, the tension drained from his body. He even stepped forward into view and lowered the cloth mask again.It was Rinjani.Like him, the young woman was dressed entirely in dark blue, the color swallowing her into the night.“How did it go?” Bantala asked.“Smoothly, Senopati. We left after lunch and traveled by horseback. Once we entered Larangan Lor District, Prince Candrakumala’s household welcomed us and provided palanquins for the three of us. The journey moved quickly after that. Mantri Wuragil, the steward of the prince’s residence, arranged lodging for us at Dalem Kulon, a smaller palace on t
Toward the Sun Thirty Three
Jaladri approached in laku dhodhok, or walking while also squatting, and then perform a sembah—both hands clasped in front of his face as a gesture of respect and surrender to a ruler.Prince Wiratmaka sat on his stone throne in the corner of the spacious pavillion, facing an exquisitely carved low table made of polished hardwood.“Your servant pays his respects, Your Highness.”Wiratmaka glanced over. “Forget the bowing. Nobody’s watching.”Jaladri looked up. “Seriously?”“Yeah. Just act normal. The way you did all day on the road. Come here. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”“Finally!”Jaladri practically launched himself across the room.“Not that normal either.”“To hell with it. My back’s been killing me from acting like I was attending a royal coronation.”He hurried over and dropped cross-legged beside the table. A moment later, Wiratmaka stepped down from the throne and joined him on the carpet.“All right. This is important. Ready?”“Of course. What’s going on?
Toward the Sun Thirty Two
“You three can sleep out here tonight, Brother,” Ni Sanadi said. “I’ll make some fried rice, very delicious. As for you, Pramesti, you’ll sleep inside. Come on.”As obedient as ever, Pramesti followed the old woman into a room directly behind the wide bamboo platform in the front hall.“You can sleep here,” Ni Sanadi said, pointing to a bamboo cot in the corner. “There’s already a blanket.”Pramesti sat down.The bed felt wonderful after the long ride from Karang Bendan that had begun before dawn. At that moment, all she wanted was to lie down and sleep.“Where will you sleep, Grandma?” she asked.“I can stay at a neighbor’s house,” the old woman smiled. “Get some rest first. Later, if you’d like, you can help me make the fried rice. The rice is already cooked. We just need to prepare the spices and fry it.”“I’d like that. By the way, where is Ki Dewaningrat Pakulangit?”“Ki Paku is away. Important business. But he knew special guests would arrive this evening, so he instructed me to
Toward the Sun Thirty One
“Damn.”Bajul reined in his horse so abruptly that the three riders behind him did the same.In an instant, the future looked bleak.In the fading afternoon light, the broad river ahead resembled something torn straight from a vision of hell. The water wasn’t merely moving fast. It was raging. Churning. Swollen beyond its banks. Another hour or two, and it looked capable of swallowing the riverbanks themselves.Heavy rains must have been pounding the Dieng Highlands for days. Now all that water had arrived here.The smallest rider of the group, positioned safely in the middle throughout the journey, loosened the veil wrapped around her head and lower face. She stared helplessly at the torrent before them.“So we can’t cross?” she asked.Pramesti.Sharp-nosed, slender-cheeked, and strikingly beautiful despite the exhaustion of travel.“Not even close,” Bajul said grimly. “We’re not reaching Gebang tonight. The plan changes.”The big man turned his horse away from the river and urged it
Toward the Sun Thirty
Suwung Saketi scanned the streets around him.Paranggelung at sunset was almost too beautiful to be real. The western sky burned crimson, and the dying sun had shrunk into a tiny glowing orb balanced on the distant horizon. In a few more minutes, it would disappear behind the jagged ridges of the Dieng Highlands.The cold made everything feel different.A steady wind swept through the town, sharp enough to bite through clothing and settle deep inside the bones. Saketi could hardly imagine what midnight would feel like. The evening chill was already brutal. Had he not possessed the internal strength of a seasoned martial artist, he would have needed layers of heavy clothing like everyone else hurrying along the streets.The roads were nearly empty now.The call to prayer would echo from the nearest mosque any minute. The few people still outside walked quickly, eager to reach home before dark, arms folded tightly across their chests against the cold.Saketi's eyes kept moving. He was h
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