"Trust the process," Professor Nyala encouraged gently. "The earth spirits will guide you."
"But what if I make an error? What if—" Radji's analytical mind was clearly struggling with the lack of concrete steps.
"Radji," Saguna said, moving closer to his friend. "Remember what happened when we first formed the triangle. You didn't analyse it, you just felt it. The connection was already there."
Radji adjusted his glasses, a gesture born of nervous energy. "This is different. The stakes are—"
"The same," Osa interrupted, understanding dawning in his voice. "The stakes are exactly the same. Trust, remember? The triangle protects its points."
Taking a shaky breath, Radji finally placed his palms on the altar. The moment skin met stone, his entire posture changed. His eyes widened behind his glasses.
"I can hear them," Radji whispered, wonder replacing anxiety in his voice. "The earth spirits. They're not giving me instructions — they're offering... partnership?"
"Open your pouch," Professor Nyala instructed. "But slowly. Let the earth guide your actions."
Radji untied the green pouch with careful precision. Inside was a mixture of different soils, some black and rich, others red with iron, still others white with salt. Beneath the soil lay small stones of various colors and a vial of what appeared to be liquid silver.
"Mercury?" Osa asked, recognizing the substance.
"Quicksilver blessed by earth spirits," Professor Nyala corrected. "It will bind the anchor to the ley lines beneath the shrine."
Radji began to arrange the components, his movements were initially precise and calculated, placing each soil in measured amounts according to what he thought should be logical patterns. But the stones remained silent.
"It's not working," he said, panic creeping into his voice. "I'm following proper distribution ratios, but—"
"Stop thinking," Osa called out. "Start feeling."
Radji closed his eyes, fighting against every instinct that told him to plan, to measure, to control. Slowly, he let his hands move without conscious direction, allowing the earth spirits to guide his actions. The different soils flowed through his fingers, creating patterns that defied his analytical mind but felt absolutely right.
The stones around them began to resonate with a low, musical hum. The sound seemed to come from deep within the earth itself.
"I understand now," Radji breathed, his voice filled with amazement. "It's not about controlling the earth, it's about listening to it. About finding harmony between structure and flow." He looked up at his companions, his expression transformed. "I've been trying to impose order, when what's needed is... collaboration."
"The spirits approve," Professor Nyala noted with relief. "Continue, Mr. Loma. Trust what the earth tells you."
Radji created a complex pattern with the different soils, each color forming part of an intricate mandala around the altar. The stones hummed more loudly as he worked, and Saguna felt the marks on his neck responding with warmth.
"Now the quicksilver," Professor Nyala prompted. "Pour it along the channels you've created."
The silver liquid flowed like living metal, following the soil patterns with impossible precision. Where it touched, the earth seemed to pulse with newfound energy. The jade stone at Radji's neck blazed with green light, and the mark on his forearm evolved before their eyes — the second line of his triangle completing itself.
"Incredible," Radji breathed, staring at his transformed mark. "I can feel... everything. Every grain of sand, every root system, every stone foundation in the village. It's all connected."
"The first anchor is set," Professor Nyala announced, but her satisfaction was tempered by the tension in her voice. She glanced toward the village center, where the twisted spire pulsed with increasing agitation.
Saguna felt it too, a wrongness in the air, as if their success had disturbed something that preferred to remain undisturbed. The marks on his neck grew warm, not with the pleasant heat of accomplishment, but with the burning sensation of warning.
They had made their move. Now the shadows would make theirs.
A low, mournful howl rose from the twisted spire at the village center. But this was no natural sound. It carried intelligence, malice, and something that might have been recognition. The very air seemed to vibrate with the creature's displeasure.
"They know what we're doing," Saguna realized, seeing dark shapes beginning to move through the village streets below. The shadows flowed like liquid darkness between buildings, no longer hiding but actively searching.
"Of course they do," Professor Nyala replied grimly, already gathering her robes. "Which is why we must move quickly to the second anchor point. The mixing pool won't remain safe much longer."
Osa clutched his blue pouch tightly, his usual confidence wavering as he watched the shadows mobilize. "How long do we have?"
"Perhaps an hour before they organize a proper response," Professor Nyala estimated. "But that assumes they don't already know our destination."
Radji, still glowing with the aftermath of his connection to the earth spirits, placed a steadying hand on the shrine's central altar. "I can feel them through the ground," he said, his voice distant with concentration. "They're avoiding the underground tunnels, but they're spreading out across the surface. Searching for us."
"Mr. Hann, are you ready to face the mixing pool?"
Osa looked out at the gathering shadows, then at his companions. The easy confidence he usually wore had been replaced by something more serious, more determined.
"Ready as I'll ever be," he said, clutching his blue pouch tightly. "Let's go wake up some water spirits."
As they made their way down from the shrine, the last rays of sunlight painted the village in shades of gold and crimson. But beneath that natural beauty, darkness was gathering. The real test of the Triumvirate was about to begin, and Saguna couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows were no longer content to simply watch.
They were preparing to strike.
The second anchor awaited, but so did whatever forces the Breathless One had sent to stop them. In the growing twilight, the race against midnight had truly begun.