NARAK: The Blood Covenant

~ Somewhere Before Time ~

There was once a girl with no name.

She asked too many questions.

Why do people cry?

Why does the moon follow me?

Where do shadows go when you close your eyes?

At first, the village smiled.

"She's just curious," they said.

But curiosity… turns to fear.

And so, one day, they stopped answering.

The girl kept asking. So they made her stop asking.

They sewed her mouth shut with golden thread.

Buried her in a shrine no one remembered building.

But the questions never stopped.

They echoed.

They became something more.

And the child, forgotten by time, began to ask the one question no one dared to answer.

"What happens if I make you remember me?"

~ Present Day – Bandung, Indonesia ~

3:14 PM – Putri's Ancestral House

"Okay," Raka muttered, staring up at the massive, ancient Joglo-style house framed with tiger motifs and Javanese carvings, "when you said 'my house is old,' I didn't expect it to have boss music playing in my head."

"My bad," Putri grinned. "Should've added that it's mystically guarded by one of Prabu Siliwangi's royal retainers."

"You left that out on purpose," Daramahesa said, hopping from Nayla's shoulder with narrowed eyes.

"There are wards here. Strong ones."

"Oh please," Nayla smirked. "Scared, Mahesa?"

"I'm a cat, not a combat unit."

The group stepped inside.

Instantly, a thrum vibrated in their bones.

Like the air itself recognized bloodlines.

Putri's house was a labyrinth of polished teakwood, sacred masks, and ancestral energy so thick it nearly buzzed.

But in the center of it all, guarding a shrine of old keris blades and tiger relics, stood a tall, silver-armored figure.

Eyes glowing dimly beneath a jagged mask shaped like a tiger's jaw.

He didn't move. He didn't blink.

Until he spoke.

"Descendant of the White Flame. The blood of Siliwangi returns."

The guardian turned toward Nayla.

Vicki muttered, "Bro, he's ignoring me. That's kinda rude."

"It's okay," Raka whispered. "I think he'd destroy me with a backhand."

The figure stepped forward and—without warning—knelt before Nayla.

"You carry the legacy. I am your Fang. Command me."

Dramatic silence.

Until Avici, in his most pompous tone, echoed in Vicki's mind.

"Oh wow. She gets a medieval fanboy. And I get flames and trauma."

Daramahesa sniffed.

"We get betrayal and sarcasm. Balance, I suppose."

Arkana added, "I'm actually quite satisfied with Raka. He listens."

"LAME," Avici barked.

"Okay," Putri cut in, "so he's always been here. He protects our family. Kind of like a mystical uncle who never leaves."

"Does he have a name?" Nayla asked, still trying to process the kneeling armored tiger man thing.

"He won't say it," Putri shrugged. "But he responds to 'Uncle Tigris.'"

"Uncle? Tigris?," Nayla tried, voice awkward.

The figure stood slowly, his mask gleaming.

"I exist to serve the Siliwangi line."

"Okay… cool. Um. No pressure, right?"

Then—

CRACK.

The wooden ceiling above creaked.

Something ancient stirred in the attic.

Daramahesa's fur puffed.

"Oh good. More supernatural roommates."

"It's just the wind," Putri offered.

"It smells like centuries-old unfulfilled vengeance, but sure."

As they explored the inner sanctum of the house, ancestral scrolls unrolled by themselves.Tiger spirits paced in the shadows, unseen but felt.

And through it all, Nayla began to remember things she was never told.Names that weren't hers but still lived inside her.

"Do you feel it too?" she whispered.

Vicki nodded.

"Like something is watching from the walls."

CLANG.

The shrine gong rang on its own.

The lights flickered.

Tigris turned slowly to the group.

"A question has entered this house."

"Excuse me?" Putri blinked.

"Something that does not belong is searching."

"What is it?" Nayla asked, gripping her necklace.

The guardian's mask glowed brighter.

"Not what. Who."

He turned to Daramahesa,

"The Question... has noticed you."

The words still rang in their heads as the energy inside Putri's ancestral home shifted.

The shrine trembled slightly—nothing overt, just enough to remind them that the air had turned heavier.

Daramahesa's ears flicked.

"Cool. Watched by ghosts, stalked by concepts, targeted by questions. Just another day."

Putri rolled her eyes and opened the sliding wooden doors to the back garden.

"Let's get some tea. It's about time my grandma met you guys anyway."

The back garden of the estate was far larger than expected. A koi pond shimmered beneath a blooming melati tree. Bamboo wind chimes danced with the wind. And waiting by a small stone table, pouring tea with the grace of a dancer, stood—

A woman.

Young.

No older than thirty.Yet her eyes shimmered with centuries.

"That's... your grandma?" Nayla whispered.

"Mhm," Putri said casually. "Don't question it."

"Too late," Daramahesa muttered. "I have about eighty-three."

The woman turned, eyes soft but sharp.

"Welcome, children," she said.

"It's an honor to meet the heirs of fire and frost. And you, Nayla... the last visible thread of a legacy long forgotten."

She stepped closer to Nayla and gently held her hand.

"The blood of Siliwangi runs deep in you, dear."

Nayla's throat tightened. "I don't— I never—"

"You don't need to. The Echo already knows."

She tapped the glowing crystal core tied to Nayla's wrist.

"This was no accident. The Echo Core was gifted to you because your soul resonates with it. Just as Karuna Dharma once trusted your ancestors to help guard The Whispered Archive, Daramahesa trusted your line again."

Daramahesa blinked.

"Wait wait wait—he did?"

"You were Anata," Putri's grandmother said gently."Even if you've chosen a furrier form now."

The cat sighed. "Of course I did. Sounds like me. Noble, self-sacrificing, brilliant—"

"And humble," Avici snorted.

"At least I didn't set the ocean on fire."

"SHE DARED ME!"

Raka leaned to Vicki. "This is weird, right? Like... royalty, ghosts, reincarnated cats—"

"You're literally possessed by an ice god," Vicki said.

"...Right."

Suddenly—

BOOM.

The ground shook.

A burning wind blasted from the front yard.

A crash. Splintering wood. Cracked tiles.

"Uh," Putri blinked. "Wasn't expecting guests."

Flames erupted through the gate.

Something monstrous crawled through it. A body like molten charcoal, a face of writhing smoke and mouths—

Banaspati.

Behind it, something even larger—a massive, shadow-skinned Genderuwo with tusks and red lightning in its eyes—stepped forward, growling through its throat like a collapsing mountain.

"Who invited HELL to the tea party?!" Raka yelled.

Tigris dashed forward, unsheathing his spectral kris, armor blazing.

"Protect the Bloodline!"

"Aw man," Vicki muttered. "Can we not fight in batik shirts?"

Before they could react, a wave crashed without water.

Green petals scattered through the air.

The wind turned sweet, fragrant.

Oceanic. Regal.

A woman emerged from the koi pond, walking on the surface.

Wearing a brilliant emerald gown, her hair flowing like seaweed in moonlight. Her eyes?

They held storms.

"Oh no," Daramahesa groaned. "She's here."

"Who's she?" Putri asked.

"The actual Queen of Drama," Avici muttered.

"And probably the only woman who ever slapped me using a tsunami."

Nyi Roro Kidul.

The Queen of the Southern Sea.

"Is this how you welcome honored guests?" she said coolly, stepping onto dry land.

"Banaspati at the gate? A Genderuwo in the lawn? You people really know how to ruin an ambiance."

The Banaspati roared.

She lifted her hand.

SNAP.

The fire demon burst into a geyser of saltwater and vanished in steam.

The Genderuwo charged. She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh don't be dramatic."

She pointed her finger. A tidal current surged from her feet, striking the creature and sending it crashing into the temple wall.

"Still cleaning up your messes, Avici?" she said with a smile that was all teeth.

"Excuse me?! That one wasn't mine!"

"Everything's yours until proven otherwise."

"And what's that supposed to mean?!"

As the garden crackled with fading spiritual residue and everyone caught their breath, Nyi Roro Kidul turned to Nayla.

"You've grown strong. But you'll need more than strength soon."

She stepped close to her.

"The child is awake. And she remembers the Question."

The battle had passed, but the tension didn't. The winds around Putri's house calmed, the flame-scorched courtyard now thick with ocean mist and jasmine petals.

The Queen of the Southern Sea stood tall, calm, untouched by the chaos she had just swept aside.

Nyi Roro Kidul sipped a warm ceramic cup of teh melati, as if nothing had happened.

"Honestly," she sighed, "I expected more resistance from the Banaspati. Standards are falling these days."

"You just disintegrated him with one gesture," Putri deadpanned.

"Please, dear. I barely flicked my wrist."

The group had gathered again around the koi pond.

Tigris, though bruised and singed, stood respectfully behind Nayla like a silent statue.

Avici floated midair inside Vicki's mind, crossing his arms.

"Every time she shows up, I swear my blood pressure,if I still had blood, skyrockets."

"You're just mad she kicked you into a reef three hundred years ago," Arkana replied.

"He insulted her throne," Daramahesa added flatly. "Said it looked like a fish tank."

"BECAUSE IT DID!"

Nyi Roro Kidul ignored their chatter, though her sea-green eyes sparkled with knowing.

Instead, she turned toward Nayla, her voice growing low and steady.

"You've inherited more than blood, child. You carry resonance. The same that once guarded The Whispered Archive."

She circled them slowly.

"But even archives can forget. And there are questions that should never have answers."

Nayla stepped forward. "You mean… her?"

"Yes. The one who was never named. The child who was buried, but not forgotten."

She raised a hand and the koi pond turned dark.

The reflection on the surface rippled. Shifted.

They saw a girl in an old, faded white dress.

Her face obscured.

Her head tilted sideways… too far sideways.

A golden thread dangled from her lips.

She stood in the ruins of an ancient shrine—alone—speaking no words, yet every thought around her screamed.

Putri's breath caught. "Is that…"

"The Question," Nyi Roro Kidul whispered.

"A being who never stopped asking. Even after they silenced her."

"But why now?" Vicki asked.

"Why is she moving again?"

Nyi Roro Kidul looked at him, eyes suddenly cold.

"Because the Balance is broken."

A beat.

Then she said it.

"And because your father woke her."

The air stopped moving.

Even the koi pond stilled.

"What did you say?" Vicki's voice was hollow.

She stepped closer. "He touched what must not be touched. He bent the Nameless Balance to his will. And in doing so, he stirred the very questions the world buried."

A silence fell, heavy and thick.

And then, the koi pond shattered like glass.

Water didn't splash, it rose, as if gravity lost interest.

A single word whispered from the crack in reality that bloomed over the pond.

A child's voice.

"Why… did you forget me?"

The voice echoed inside their skulls like a wet whisper.

"Oh no," Daramahesa said quietly. "She found the tether."

"We're not ready," Arkana murmured.

And then they saw it.

Carved in the reflection beneath their feet, as if burned into the very concept of water itself:

THE QUESTION IS COMING.

And next to it, for only a second, a shadow of a girl with a stitched mouth... eyes too wide... head tilted, floating behind Putri.

She blinked.

And vanished.