The sky hung low as Fitran and Rinoa stepped slowly past the row of Golems, now standing still like bronze statues returned to a long slumber. The ground beneath them felt warm, not from the sun—but from ancient magic gently flowing through the massive stones that formed this place. Fitran felt a weight enveloping his thoughts, like a gray cloud waiting for the right moment to pour down rain. Rinoa, though her face appeared calm, sensed the pulse of tension in the air, as if each step brought them closer to an undisclosed secret.
They had passed through the Great Gate. Fitran's heart raced, vibrating like a plucked string. Seniwati, the golden deity who shaped his destiny, seemed to whisper to him, reminding him of the responsibilities awaiting at the journey's end. They had confronted the test of reality. Memories filled his mind with fragments of the past—laughter, tears, and a search for identity. Yet, Gamma had yet to reveal itself.
Fitran took a deep breath, "I'm just trying to understand what it is we're really searching for." He wanted to express more, but the words were stuck in his throat, like a déjà vu that stirred sadness. Sometimes, bravery isn't just about confronting danger directly; often, it lies in the ability to face one's own soul.
As they ventured deeper into Stones, the echoes of history filled the air with mystery. Every corner held stories waiting to be uncovered, each raindrop prompted by the drizzles from the gray sky. Uncertainty crept among them, yet there was warmth in their togetherness. In Rinoa's embrace, Fitran found a harbor amidst the storm of his life. She was the guiding star, and as they moved further, his confidence reignited, shattering the boundaries of the fears that had burned within him.
Fitran replied softly, "Perhaps things do change. But not necessarily for the easier." His voice flowed like the gentle breeze, softly weaving through the towering pillars. Doubt and hope whispered in his heart, part of the silent symphony played by this mystical atmosphere.
Before them, Stones sprawled like an ancient tomb. Pillars rising thirteen meters tall stood in orderly rows, resembling silent guardians of a bygone era. How many secrets lie within, Fitran pondered, as if this place held untold stories of a submerged civilization. Among the pillars, inscriptions in an unfamiliar proto-script were etched—an ancient language predating recorded history. A shroud of uncertainty enveloped him, yet he also felt a deep admiration for the magnificence that remained untouchable.
The air was filled with fine particles of light suspended aimlessly. The light did not radiate; it awaited interpretation. In that moment, Fitran felt the weight of the past becoming more tangible, like a shadow following his every step. He smiled wryly, realizing that every shadow was part of a journey yet to be taken.
Stones was not merely a transitional area.
It was a new labyrinth. Within Fitran's heart, each corner of this maze reflected the serpentine journey of his soul. Not by mere chance—but by inheritance. An inheritance etched in every heartbeat, every decision he had ever made.
Several hundred meters in, they discovered a stone circle—a prominent structure adorned with a pile of menhirs that converged at its center. This circle resembled an altar built by time, calling them to unveil the depths of their hearts. At its center lay a deep, round hole that was not dark; its base appeared like a liquid silver mirror gently rippling. Fitran sensed a strange tranquility there, as if time had stopped and only the grandeur of the universe was watching over him.
Fitran crouched down to observe. In his gaze, an overwhelming curiosity ignited. He felt as though something greater than himself was engaging him in dialogue. The tales of the past, perhaps etched within this circle, prompted him to reflect on the direction of his life. Afraid of change, yet emboldened by the vibrant hope within him.
"This is neither a portal nor a well," Rinoa replied, her voice softly vibrating, her hands wrapped protectively before her, as if shielding her thoughts. It seemed she was tracing her inner journey, intertwining with a significance deeper than mere physical space.
Rinoa lowered her gaze, her fingers gently touching the surface of the silvery water. As her skin made contact, a faint reflection appeared—an older version of herself. With white hair, dulled eyes, yet smiling, she was a figure who had endured many battles but stood tall regardless. In that shadow, she saw someone filled with wisdom, yet also carrying an unseen burden. This vision emphasized that every journey comes with a price.
"This... reflects possibilities," Rinoa murmured, her voice soft like a whispering breeze brushing through the leaves.
"Stones hold the traces of what might be, not just what has been." She sensed a tension in the air, as if the stones surrounding her were silent witnesses to their journey, waiting to be unveiled.
In the stillness, Rinoa's voice painted a picture in the air, filled with hope and longing. Her mental strength, seemingly unshakeable, lay hidden behind her deep gaze, searching for answers amidst the ripples of water. Fitran watched her in admiration, recognizing the courage radiating from her, but also feeling the weight of numerous hopes she carried. "I hope that reflection doesn't frighten you." Intrigue and fear mingled within his words, each syllable flowing like the unpredictable current of a river.
"No," Rinoa replied, "because in all the possibilities I've seen... I still walk beside you." With those words, she seemed to reaffirm the unwavering promise woven between them, like an invisible yet strong silk thread binding two souls amidst uncertainty. Yet, deep in her heart, a tickling anxiety lingered, like a cold wind sweeping across the night.
They rested beside a circle of stones, lighting a small fire that persisted only because the stones beneath absorbed the heat slowly—as if this place never truly allowed the fire to rage. In the calm blaze, Fitran observed Rinoa, sitting with her legs folded, creating a comfortable yet solitary space around her. Her face, glowing in the firelight, pierced through the darkness of the night, and what he saw in her was unparalleled bravery. He felt as if he stood on the edge of the world, bearing the weight of his past upon his shoulders.
As he sipped water from a spring in the rock crevice, Fitran asked, sensing the impact of the silence that enveloped them:
"How many people do you think have made it this far?"
Rinoa closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to capture the whisper of the gentle wind flowing through the crevices of the rocks. Every second felt heavy with meaning, where silence became a bridge between awareness and uncertainty. Her enigmatic face questioned the sky, "Few. Even the strong cannot always cross the emptiness of silence." In her voice lingered a sense of uncertainty like a shadow that could not be dispelled. Deep within her heart, there was a longing to see further, beyond the borders that had confined her for so long.
Fitran nodded slowly, his gaze on the sky, savoring the beauty suspended in solitude. Each star appeared as a silent witness to his long journey—a symbol of hope amidst turmoil. "But we are still far from Gamma." He spoke softly, as if each word needed to pierce the empty space surrounding them, hanging between desire and fear. This thought reminded him of the path he had traveled, where his steps had halted, caught between conflicting hopes and doubts.
"Yes," Rinoa gazed at the stone pillars, "because Stones are the door. But not to a place, rather to a decision." Her voice carried a note of arrogance, yet it also revealed a vulnerability that mirrored her fear. She understood that every decision would carve her path—either defining her or imprisoning her within the same labyrinth. Her inner self trembled, as if each pillar were a mirror reflecting both the light and dark facets of her soul.
Fitran turned, unraveling the tightly woven threads of his thoughts. "A decision?"
"Each stone here... waits to be questioned. But they will also question us in return. If we do not know who we are, we will remain spinning—trapped between the shadows of possibilities." Her words resonated like an evocative poem, hinting at depths hidden behind each phrase. Suddenly, it felt as though a powerful current flowed between them, an unseen river connecting the souls searching for meaning amid the darkness.
In addition, Fitran felt a conflict between his heart and mind. He pondered his own identity, questioning who he was in the face of a world waiting to be revealed. The star-filled sky served as a reminder that, despite the uncertainties of life, they had the right to choose their own path. Slowly, a glimmer of hope ignited within him, as if calling him to take a bold step into the unknown.
The distance between them and Gamma felt like an open chasm, yet there was one shared desire that united them: the desire to emerge from the shadows and find the light, no matter the cost. With hearts racing and an odd feeling enveloping them, both committed to walk together, against the current, drowning their doubts in an ocean of courage.
Fitran was not entirely certain of their purpose, but he felt that every step taken by Rinoa was a promise—a promise to face whatever would come together, regardless of the hopes and fears that always loomed.
Rinoa gazed at the stars with a profound longing. Her thoughts drifted; in a broader context, each star seemed to symbolize hope, unfulfilled dreams, and stories yet to be written. As she focused on the Stones, she murmured to herself, reassuring that not all decisions needed to be made with a heavy heart—some could serve as important guidance from the universe.
In silence, Fitran observed Rinoa. He could see behind her deep eyes that she was not just a guiding figure but also a warrior tirelessly battling uncertainty. One thing was certain: they needed each other, like stars and the night sky forever searching for one another.
With newfound conviction coursing through their spines, they felt as if the earth beneath their feet began to tremble, synchronized with the heartbeat of anticipation. Fitran smiled faintly, igniting a hope within him that had perhaps long been buried. "Then, let's ask them slowly."
Fitran fell silent, a small smile forming on his lips. "Then, let's ask them slowly." He realized that in the stillness of the night, there were hidden voices—like whispers from the very spirits of the stones. Within his smile lay a tension intertwined with hope; he understood that his questions were not only for the stones but also for himself, a reflection on the window of his soul, illuminated by the soft light.
The night descended gradually.
The stars above the Stones were unlike those in an ordinary sky.
They moved.
Slowly, yet surely, as if forming a pattern that could not be predicted. Fitran gazed at the sky with a sense of curiosity, as if each point of light was a footprint of the past guiding the way forward. He ascribed meaning to each twinkle of a star, believing they were silent witnesses to struggles and sacrifices, reminding him that beauty does not always come without a price.
Rinoa leaned on Fitran's shoulder, having fallen asleep first. Her breath was gentle, yet her body carried the weight of the Avatar and the survivors. In her dreams, she perhaps ran through the shadows of the past, navigating the corridors where hope and sorrow intertwined. Fitran gazed at her, feeling the tranquility that enveloped them under the cold night sky. A moment later, he sensed an embrace of emotions—love, longing, and a profound sense of loss that fused within his heart. He vowed to protect Rinoa, just as he safeguarded the stones that might defy their fate.
Fitran remained awake. He picked up a dry twig and wrote something on the ground:
"I have returned to you.
This world may not recognize me.
But you still choose me.
And for that, I will complete this journey—together." As his words resonated in the silence, he felt how each letter he inscribed was a gateway to the future. He envisioned those words seeping into the earth, mingling with the roots of trees that had endured the storms. In every stroke, there was a promise to never turn back, to move forward even if the road ahead was steep and unpredictable.
As the night wind came and erased the words, he smiled.
Not out of loss.
But because he knew: the phrase had entered the stone. For thousands of years, these stones have witnessed the journeys of warriors and lovers. Now, his words were etched in their hearts, becoming part of a greater history. He envisioned the stones whispering to one another, sharing the strength of hope and pain. In his quest for identity, Fitran discovered himself through Rinoa, a priceless inspiration.
They listen. Stones always listen. Fitran understood that they were not merely lifeless beings; they were the guardians of stories and journeys. And in the silence that enveloped them, one thing was certain—neither were they alone, despite the world's scorn. A single bond, woven together, could change the course of fate. With the stars as witnesses, Fitran was determined to seek answers, not just for Rinoa, but also to unveil the mysteries that had shaped them. One more journey awaited, towards a heart ready to listen.