The Midnight Shuttle

Chapter 12 : The Last Oath

The laughter echoed once more.

Then...

It vanished.

The forest fell silent again, leaving only the slow whisper of mist drifting between the ancient pines.

No one crossed the stone gate.

Not yet.

Abah Jaya kept one hand resting against the weathered carving, his eyes fixed on the circle surrounded by four handprints.

"For generations," he said quietly, "people believed this gate marked the entrance to the mountain."

He slowly shook his head. "They were wrong."

Aditia studied the worn symbol carved into the stone. "What is it, then?"

The old man drew a slow breath. "A boundary."

"Between what?"

Abah Jaya finally turned to face them. "Between the world that belongs to the living..." He paused. "...and the place where forgotten promises refuse to die."

A cool breeze drifted through the trees, and the mist thickened almost immediately, curling around the ancient pillars until the path beyond became impossible to see.

Alya instinctively reached for the silver ring on her finger. It felt warm—warmer than it ever had before.

Abah Jaya noticed. "Don't take it off."

"I wasn't going to."

"I know." His voice softened. "I'm reminding the mountain."

Without another word, he stepped through the gate.

Nothing happened. At first.

Then the air changed.

The birds disappeared. The sound of insects faded. Even the wind seemed to stop at the threshold, unwilling to follow.

Aditia exchanged a brief glance with Alya. Neither of them spoke.

Together, they crossed the gate.

The moment their feet touched the path beyond, the forest behind them vanished—not gradually, but instantly.

Aditia spun around.

The stone gate was gone. The trail they had climbed no longer existed. There was only an endless wall of white mist stretching in every direction.

For the first time since entering the mountain, Abah Jaya looked afraid.

Quietly, almost to himself, he whispered, "We're already inside."

For several moments...

No one spoke.

The white mist swallowed everything beyond a few meters, leaving only the narrow stone path beneath their feet.

Aditia glanced over his shoulder again. Nothing—no gate, no forest, no way back. "It's gone," he murmured. Abah Jaya nodded. "It always disappears." "Then how do we leave?" "We don't." The answer hung heavily between them. The old man looked ahead before quietly correcting himself. "Not until the mountain decides we're finished."

Alya felt the silver ring grow warmer against her skin. It wasn't painful. Just... alive. She instinctively rubbed it with her thumb. At once, the mist around them shifted—not because of the wind, but because it was moving on its own. Long strands of white drifted silently across the path, twisting around ancient trees whose trunks were wider than any Alya had ever seen. None of them had leaves, only bare branches reaching upward like skeletal hands.

Aditia frowned. "Those trees weren't outside." "They couldn't survive outside," Abah Jaya replied. He crouched beside the trail and ran his fingers across the damp earth. "No moss. No insects. No footprints." He stood again. "Don't step off the path." Aditia looked around. "There isn't anywhere else to step." "Exactly."

The old man resumed walking. The three of them continued deeper into the mist, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth beneath them. Minutes passed—or perhaps hours. Time no longer felt reliable. The light never changed. The air remained cold. Even their breathing sounded strangely distant.

Then Alya stopped. "Do you hear that?" Both men froze. At first, there was nothing. Then Aditia heard it too—not voices, not footsteps. Water. Somewhere ahead, a river flowed quietly through the mist, its gentle current sounding impossibly close.

Abah Jaya's expression hardened. "There shouldn't be a river here." Alya looked toward the sound. "But I can hear it." "So can I." The old man tightened his grip on his walking stick. "Which is exactly why we are not going anywhere near it."

The water continued to flow, softly, patiently. Then a child began humming. The melody drifted over the unseen river, sweet and innocent, carried effortlessly through the mist. Alya felt her heartbeat quicken. She knew that lullaby—Nenek Lastri used to sing it every night before she fell asleep.

Abah Jaya closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was lower than before. "It has stopped borrowing voices." Aditia looked at him. "What does that mean?" The old man opened his eyes. "It has started borrowing memories."

They walked on in silence.

The sound of the unseen river gradually faded behind them, swallowed by the mist until it became impossible to tell whether it had ever existed at all.

Only the narrow stone path remained.

It twisted gently between the lifeless trees, climbing higher into the mountain where the air grew colder with every step.

Then...

Abah Jaya stopped.

He lowered himself slowly beside a weathered boulder almost completely hidden beneath creeping vines.

"There."

Aditia stepped closer, and at first he saw nothing unusual until his eyes adjusted and he noticed several shallow marks carved into the stone—knife marks, human, deliberate. Abah Jaya brushed away the damp moss covering the rock, revealing more lines beneath it: a simple arrow, a small circle, and beneath both, three initials.

P.M.

Aditia's breath caught. "My father..."

The old man nodded. "He left these for anyone who came after him."

Aditia ran his fingers lightly across the worn carving. The cuts had softened with age, but they were still unmistakably deliberate.

"He knew someone would follow."

"He hoped no one would have to."

Silence settled between them as Alya studied the arrow etched into the stone. "It points that way."

"It used to," Abah Jaya said as he rose to his feet. "The mountain changes. The path doesn't stay where you leave it."

Aditia frowned. "Then why leave markers at all?"

"Because sometimes..." The old man rested a hand against the boulder. "...the mountain chooses to remember."

No one spoke. For a long moment, Aditia remained where he was, staring at the initials carved into the stone. His father had stood here, touched this rock, faced the same silence, the same mist. He had come farther than Aditia had ever imagined.

Very carefully, Aditia reached into his pocket and took out the old brass key. Something caught the light. On the side of the key, almost hidden beneath years of tarnish, were two tiny engraved letters.

P.M.

His father hadn't simply left the key behind. He had expected someone else to carry it.

A cold breeze drifted through the trees, and at the same moment every carved mark on the stone began to glow with a faint, pale light.

Abah Jaya's expression changed instantly. "Don't move."

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"The mountain has recognized his blood."

The air inside the abandoned warehouse grew unbearably hot.

One by one, the shadows surrounding the shattered walls began to move.

They were coming.

Dozens of dark figures emerged from every corner of the building, crawling across the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. Their twisted bodies gathered around Begu Ganjang like an army answering its master's call.

Doctor Adi's expression hardened.

"We're out of time," Doctor Adi said, turning sharply toward Alya. "Repeat the oath exactly as Ayi taught you. Do it now!"

His voice echoed through the warehouse, but Alya remained frozen where she stood, her eyes locked on the towering figure of Begu Ganjang. The demon stared back in complete silence, its countless eyes almost... expectant.

Aditia stepped closer. "Alya."

She didn't respond.

He reached for her arm, his voice softening. "This is what we've been fighting for. You can end this. You can free yourself. And your family's nightmare ends with you."

For a brief moment, Alya lowered her head. Her lips trembled. Aditia thought she was finally gathering the courage to speak.

Instead, she slowly pulled her arm away.

"I can't."

Doctor Adi's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"I can't," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

The ground shook violently beneath them. A deafening roar erupted outside the building as more of Begu Ganjang's servants poured through the broken entrances, their shrill cries blending into one endless scream.

Doctor Adi took a step toward her. "You don't have another choice! If you don't make the oath now, Begu Ganjang will become completely free!"

"I know."

"Then do it!" A long silence followed.

Alya slowly raised her head. There were tears in her eyes—but no fear. Only resolve.

She began to walk, not toward Aditia, not toward Doctor Adi, but toward Begu Ganjang.

Aditia felt his heartbeat stop. "Alya..." His voice cracked. "Don't."

She never looked back.

Standing before the towering demon, Alya drew a slow breath, then spoke—not the oath Ayi Mahogra had entrusted to her, but words no one else had expected to hear.

The warehouse fell deathly silent.

Even Begu Ganjang remained perfectly still, as though it had been waiting centuries to hear Alya's next words.

She lifted her chin and looked directly into the demon's countless eyes.

"I command you to serve me," she declared, "as you once served my father, Harsawi Manjaya," and Aditia froze, his blood running cold.

"Remain by my side, just as you once remained by his. Grant me wealth and power as you granted them to him... and I shall reward you, just as my father rewarded you."

Every word echoed through the warehouse, and no one moved or even breathed as Aditia stared at Alya in disbelief.

"No..."

His voice barely escaped his lips.

"Those aren't Ayi's words."

He shook his head as if refusing to accept what he had just heard.

"Ayi told you to command Begu Ganjang to serve you only long enough to break the pact. Then send it away. Forever."

His voice grew weaker as the realization settled in.

"You were never supposed to replace your father. You were supposed to end this."

Alya didn't even turn around. She stood motionless before the towering demon, as though everyone else had ceased to exist.

Only then did Aditia understand.

He had been wrong from the very beginning.

He had trusted the wrong person.

He took a step back, unable to tear his eyes away from her. The woman he had fought to protect—the woman he had believed was another victim—had willingly chosen the very curse that had destroyed her family.

A quiet laugh echoed from the far end of the warehouse.

"So... now you've seen the truth."

Everyone turned.

A man strode through the shattered entrance with unhurried steps. He wore no shirt, jagged shards of glass protruding from every part of his body, yet not a single wound bled. Resting across one shoulder was an enormous sword nearly as tall as he was.

Doctor Adi let out a long breath. "About time."

Then he shouted, "Malik! Move! Harsawi won't survive much longer if we keep wasting time!"

The newcomer didn't answer. His eyes were already fixed on Begu Ganjang.

In the next heartbeat, he vanished.

A violent gust swept across the warehouse as Malik shot forward with impossible speed. Before anyone could react, he had already leapt onto Begu Ganjang's towering body.

With both hands gripping the massive sword, he drove the blade straight through the demon's head.

A deafening roar shook the entire building.

Begu Ganjang let out another earth-shaking roar.

The massive sword buried deep inside its skull forced the towering demon to stumble backward, but it did not fall for long.

With terrifying speed, it ripped itself free from Malik's blade.

Dark blood sprayed across the cracked concrete floor.

The wound began to heal almost immediately.

Malik landed lightly before charging again.

He never gave the demon time to recover.

The enormous sword flashed through the air, carving another deep wound across Begu Ganjang's chest.

The creature screamed.

For the first time...

Fear appeared in its countless eyes.

A sharp whistle sliced through the chaos.

Three arrows flew toward Malik in rapid succession.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Each arrow struck his sword instead of its target.

Malik turned his head.

His expression darkened.

"So..."

His eyes settled on Alya.

"You've chosen your side."

Without waiting for an answer, he dragged the tip of his enormous sword across the floor and sprinted toward her.

Before he could reach her, a black serpent burst from his outstretched hand.

The creature was no larger than an ordinary snake at first.

But as it raced across the floor, its body expanded with frightening speed.

Alya's eyes widened.

She leaped backward, narrowly avoiding its strike as the serpent crashed into the ground where she had been standing only a heartbeat earlier.

Malik didn't pursue her. His true target had never changed. He spun around and charged Begu Ganjang once more.

"Adit!"

Doctor Adi's shout cut through the deafening battle.

"Forget them! Help me move Harsawi!"

Aditia didn't respond. He stood motionless, his eyes fixed on Alya, his heart impossibly heavy. Everything he had believed, everything he had fought for, had collapsed in a matter of seconds. He had defended her, trusted her, risked his life for her—only to discover that she had chosen the same darkness that had consumed her father.

"Adit!"

Doctor Adi shouted again, his voice sharper this time.

"If you don't help me now, Harsawi will die!"

The words finally broke through the haze clouding Aditia's mind.

"I... I'm sorry, Doctor."

He rushed forward and helped Doctor Adi drag Harsawi's unconscious body away from the battlefield. Behind them, steel clashed against something far harder than flesh, and another monstrous roar echoed through the warehouse.

The battle was far from over.