SHADOW OF THE CENTURY
1257 AD – Mount Samalas
The sky darkened, heavy clouds hung over the cracked and scorched earth. Rain poured heavily, not as a blessing, but as lamentation. Lightning tore the sky, as if nature itself grieved the end of something once sacred.
In the midst of the ashen plain, two figures stood. Neither of them moved. Only distance separated their bodies… but between them lay an unspoken wound, a grudge that had never truly died.
One of them, tall and lean, had eyes glowing green like a cursed flame. His hair was silvery white, his skin pale, and his blood… ran black like a night that had lost its light. He was no longer fully human. He was Dariath... A man with a half-demonic soul, a dark memory of a world that had once rejected his existence.
Dariath (deep voice, echoing like the mountain itself):
"Still believe… in humanity?"
Before him stood a young man, body upright despite being surrounded by pools of blood and shattered remains. His eyes glowed crimson... not merely from rage, but from a love taken, a vow broken. His name was Agastya, a man entirely human… but with a resolve that split through the ages.
Dariath (brow lowered):
"Why are you silent, Agastya?"
"Do you truly… still believe mankind can be trusted?"
Agastya answered in silence. His fingers gripped a sword soaked in blood… whose blood, he no longer knew. What mattered was, he stood alone. His comrades had fallen lifeless. His brother… no longer moved.
Agastya (trembling, flat, voice cold):
"Why was I the only one you let live, Dariath?"
Dariath (faint smile. A smile more painful than mockery):
"Because I want you to remember, Agastya."
"Remember the faces you failed to save. Remember the names that now only live in your mind. Your brother, your comrades, your fellow warriors…"
"I want you to live that suffering. Forever."
Agastya said nothing. But his eyes radiated something no words could ever destroy.
Dariath (his steps slow, like the whisper of death):
"You know?... What's the similarity between humans and demons?"
"When both no longer have enemies to conquer, they begin to destroy themselves… from within."
"Victory… is just another form of emptiness."
"But sometimes... human nature is even crueler than the demons themselves, isn't it?"
In the sky, Mount Samalas began to rumble. Black smoke danced in the air, bearing a message of ruin that would never be written in any holy book.
Dariath (gazing at the sky, calm):
"Time is nearly up."
"But before we perish together…"
"Answer me."
"Do you… still believe in humanity?"
Agastya remained motionless. But his heart thundered. He remembered the laughter of his brothers-in-arms.
The promises he made before the war. The oaths he never had the chance to fulfill.
Agastya (softly, piercing):
"Come. Let's end this."
Dariath (clicks his tongue, disappointed but satisfied):
"No matter how hard you fight, Agastya…"
"Demons never truly die. And humans… they always rot from within."
The first eruption was heard. Mount Samalas exploded. Lava flooded the slopes, the sky turned red like an open wound.
Agastya took his stance. Lightning wrapped around his body and sword. He charged... not to kill, but for justice he never received.
Dariath (opens his arms, resigned):
"Our shadows will return… hundreds of years from now."
Agastya's sword tore through the air, slicing the night.
His red lightning crackled wildly.
ZHINNKKKK!!!
Everything vanished in red and ash.
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Chapter 1 – To End It
1397 AD – Daha, Majapahit
Hundreds of years later, the city of Daha pulsed calmly beneath a clear sky. The air carried the scent of incense, jasmine, and the sounds of a bustling market. Mynas flew over the rooftops. The world seemed to have forgotten Samalas and the tragedy buried within it.
Two young boys ran through the crowd, laughing among the noise of merchants and messengers. The two of them: Atwira Brahmaraja and Tejo Purnomo. Both were twelve, yet their spirits outshined battle-hardened warriors.
Atwira (pointing at the royal carriages):
"Tejo! That's the royal family's convoy!"
Tejo (sighs, lazy):
"Atwira… they're not going to war. They just want to reach central Daha."
Atwira (grins):
"Well then, I'm leaving you behind!"
He darted forward, like an arrow from the bow of time.
Among the line of carriages, one stood out with the Bhre Lasem banner and golden decorations. Inside sat a woman: Kusumawardani, a noble lady of great grace, known as Sang Ahayu. Beside her sat her three children: Rajasa Kusuma, Sri Suhita, and Wijaya Wardhana.
Kusuma (frowning):
"Mother… how much longer? My back's starting to protest."
Kusumawardani (smiling patiently):
"We'll arrive soon. You know, being a future king requires patience, doesn't it?"
The carriage finally stopped. They had reached the center of Daha... specifically, the royal palace building.
Kusumawardani and her eldest son (Rajasa Kusuma) stepped down from the carriage, while the two younger ones were taken to their chambers by Dayang Sumbi to rest.
The people cheered joyfully, and Kusumawardani bowed respectfully to the citizens of Daha…
Suddenly…
Atwira (shouting loudly):
"HEYYY! KUSUMAAA!"
Tejo (panicking):
"HEY! That's the royal family! Don't yell like you're calling your neighbor!"
Kusuma turned around. Upon recognizing his two friends, a wide smile lit up his face like the sun.
Kusuma:
"ATWIRA! TEJO!!"
He leapt from the carriage and ran toward them.
Kusumawardani (shaking her head slightly):
"Didn't he say he was tired just now…"
Kusuma (running while waving):
"MOTHER, I'M GOING TO PLAY!!"
In a world scarred by history, the laughter of these children flowed like fresh water. The world did not yet know that one of them… carried a legacy from hundreds of years ago. A legacy born from a night soaked in blood, from shadows that had never truly faded.
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To be continued.