Before Ramdan could blink, Banyu and Arumi shot forward from the shadows, shielding the two boys with their bodies.
"Fall back, servants of darkness!" Banyu roared, his sword dancing through the air.
The battle was inevitable. Though Banyu and Arumi were elite warriors, the eleven followers of Angkara Murka (Malice's Wrath) moved with brutal, unpredictable ferocity, their dark magic seething like a storm.
Amid the chaos, as Banyu lunged to protect Rian from a lethal black-magic barrage, a cursed blade flashed—and in an instant, his leg was severed clean below the knee.
"BANYUUU!" Arumi's scream tore through the battlefield.
The cultists laughed, their leader raising his sword for the final strike against Rian and Ramdan—but the blade never fell.
A shadow landed soundlessly between them.
Ranjana.
Her face was calm, but her eyes were a storm. The playful aura she usually radiated had vanished, replaced by a crushing pressure that made the very air feel heavy.
"Arumi, carry Banyu to the house—now!" Ranjana commanded, her voice brooking no argument. Then, she shouted, "Bayuprabawa, rise!"
The agate pendant around her neck blazed with silver light. A mythic presence emerged—a colossal Garuda, its wingspan casting a shadow over the battlefield.
"Ten years since you last summoned me, Ranjana. Are you in trouble now?" the Garuda rumbled, its voice shaking the earth.
"No time to explain. Shift to weapon mode!" Ranjana ordered.
The Garuda shrieked, its form condensing into a streak of silver light before solidifying into a weapon—a kujang, but unlike any ordinary Sundanese curved dagger. This one was longer, sleeker, its hilt shaped like a Garuda's head with an open beak, its eyes glowing sapphire-blue. The wings stretched along the grip, intricate bronze feathers etched into the metal.
What followed wasn't a battle.
It was a slaughter.
Ranjana became the wind itself. With each swing of her kujang, the air split, leaving behind trails of silver mist shaped like phantom feathers. Her movements were too fast to track—only the aftermath remained: eleven cultists, sliced apart before they could even scream. In less than ten seconds, the battlefield was silent, the ground littered with their remains. Ranjana stood untouched, not a single drop of blood staining her clothes.
Back at the house, Sinta frantically applied herbal remedies, but Banyu's bleeding wouldn't stop. Melati watched, her heart pounding. She had no magic—or so she'd always believed.
In desperation, she clasped her hands and prayed: "Sang Hyang Tunggal, grant us mercy in this trial…"
A pulse of golden-green mana erupted from her chest, coalescing into an ancient spellbook that hovered before her, its pages fluttering like butterfly wings.
Sinta gasped.
"This mana… No mistake, this is a Mage Healer's power!" she cried. "Quick, Melati—heal him!"
Guided by instinct, Melati grabbed the book. Emerald light enveloped her hands as she pressed them to Banyu's wound. The bleeding stopped instantly, the severed flesh knitting itself back together as if the injury had never existed. Banyu coughed weakly—alive.
When Ranjana, Ramdan, and Rian returned, they stared in awe.
"Melati," Ranjana said softly, "Mage Healers are rarer than phoenix feathers. In all of Salakanagara, only two are known to exist."
"Wow, Sis Melati really is my soulmate!" Ramdan teased, eyes sparkling—until Rian and Ranjana simultaneously yanked his ear.
Later, on the porch of the Segara residence, the group sipped tea under the moonlight. Banyu rested inside, saved by Melati's miracle.
Rian, who'd been silent, finally spoke.
"Uncle… Earlier, when you fought, your pendant glowed. A giant Garuda appeared. Was that…?"
Ranjana smiled. "Bayuprabawa. My spirit weapon."
"Like Rian's sword?"
"Exactly," Ranjana nodded. "Every Sang Hyang Widi is blessed uniquely. Some wield spirit weapons, like my kujang. Others inherit ancient mana, like Melati just did."
From the doorway, Sinta added, "That's because you're the Princess of Lemuria, Melati. The spirits of our ancestors flow in your blood."
Ramdan grinned. "Damn, Melati! You're a limited-edition VIP!"
Rian pressed further. "So, Uncle… Is Bayuprabawa really a giant Garuda?"
"Yes," Ranjana confirmed. "All spirit weapons have a true form—usually an ancient beast or mythical entity."
Ramdan leaned forward. "Then… does that mean every Sang Hyang Widi has a guardian spirit?"
Ranjana exhaled, his gaze turning grave. "That's the right question, Ramdan. And the answer leads to a story older than your memories. Listen closely."
The night grew still. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
To Be Continued