The carving was meant to unite. But it spilit instead.
In the heart of the villlage, Numa introduced a new carving a fusion of symbols from Wamena, Kalimantan, and Maluku. He called it The Three Way Carving. The goal was simple: to create a resonance accpeted by all regions. But when the carbingwas etched into the central stone, something happened.
The stone cracked. Not from weakness. But from confusion.
Yohwa touched it and flet three echoes colliding. One wanted to be remembered. One wanted to be felt. One wanted to be forgotten. The stone couldn't choose. it simply broke.
"This isn't synthesis," Rava said. "it's a clash of meanings."
A young Satria from Kalimantan rejceted teh carving. "Our symbols can't be merged like that," he said. "They have their own spitirs. They're not decorations."
A Satria from maluku agreed. "Water can't be forced to blend with earth. They must dialogue, not be fused."
Numa fell silent. He didn't mean harm. But he had forggoten: resonance isn't just about form. it's about soul.
Yohwa tried to calm them. "We're not building one language," he said. "We're learning to hear many voices."
but the voices began to reject each other. in teh village, children started drawing their own symbols, then crossing out those from other regions. Small stones began to vibrate out of sync. Some even cracked without being touched.
That night, Yohwa dreamed. He saw the carving split into thre. Each piece walked alone, searching for a place. But no land accepted them. They were seen as broken. incomplete.
He woke with a heavy heart. in the morning, he gathered all the Satria. "We can't force meanings to merge," he said. "We must let them grow on their own, then learn to recognize each other."
Rava proposed, "Eached region creates its own carving. But we place them side by side not in one stone."
Numa agreed. "Not one carving. But a gallery of souls."
in the village, children began building a Carving Garden. Each stone held its own story. None were taller. None were truer. But all could be seen, All could be heard.
Yohwa walked among the stones. He touched one carving from Kalimantan shapped like curling roots, He heard the fores't voice, He touched one from maluku wavy like teh sea. He felt calm. He touched one from Wamena sharp and deep. He felt courage.
"Resonance isn't one song," he said. "it's an orchestra of souls."
The Soul Eclipse began to move again. But this time, no to reject. To observe.
And in the distance, the stone from Sulawesi began teh desire to speak.