The Witch of Jakarta

Chapter 7: The Deal

    God’s future is an un-walkable road. Given the chance that Ralph and his wandering emotion had mustered enough willpower to try, it would be an aimless quest into a land devoid of hope.

    Despite it, this was the one thing he was certain he would look back to, and realize that in the darkness there was still the assuring certainty that the moon’s time was numbered. However, the pretense only stood so far, as his people slowly waste away, for so long have he and so many others have mistakenly cherished cowardice as safety, believing "might is right" and rewarded those best at manipulation that we can't see a way out of the mess.

    As he lights up his cigarette by the bus stop, he noticed the crying beggar sitting next to him—knowing the man will last longer compared to the rest of his people. As for the rest of the cowards, the living means fighting the end as the ground beneath their feet crumbles into the cracking asphalt beneath them. It would be a mercy to send them outside the country spinning into a possibly lighter dystopian nightmare none of them can wake from. He noticed the beggar had stopped crying, as a passer-by threw a blue colored paper into his pile of coins. He envies the man but does nothing, safe for brushing away the ash that landed on his cotton white shirt.

    Spare some cash, sir?’ The man whispered.

    Ralph waved his hand dismissively, and thank the stars at the early bus’s early arrival. The man stepped in, the familiar yet unwelcomed smell of soiled leather tops and muddy sandals quickly yanking him away from his absent mind. He knows the drill and wasted no time finding himself a seat while keeping a close eye on his bag. He looked around at the unremarkable assembly of passengers, noticing that Amo’s group must’ve taken the previous bus home; he thanks the stars once more.

    However, life is as cynical as his mind led him to believe—as he quickly remembered that this was going to be the last year buses like these will be operational, and they will be effectively replaced by nation licensed public transport to tighten security on their kind. Of course, by this time, his mind quickly wandered again, too stubborn to let go of what had happened.

    'He was the rat.’

    He couldn’t let go of those words. Despite it, he couldn’t fight it like he always does. One side of him refused to let go of what he knew of the man—flashes of late-night discussions and various talk of rebellion and perseverance as the two of them swore their enemy to the midnight sky. But the other side was dark, a broken tape that played those four words endlessly as he tried desperately to refute. He peered over from his side of his seat to look at the full bus, he wished he hadn't let his mind slip away.

    'He was the rat.’

    It was too clear to refute.

    He forced his eyes to look away from the crowd, and look up into the navy sky. Watching it as if it were the first time, he had seen the sky travel with him, as the lonely crowded bus drove in a clockwork pace. The night road lit by traffic lights and tall building reaching onto the capital city’s heart, limited only by the faintest dark clouds warning the oncoming rainy midnight. He took another big breath of his cigarette, watching intently as the rolling grey smoke rapidly becomes as invisible as it hits the open window, noting that the air around him still feels humid. But he quickly ignores it, as he focused his mind back onto the claustrophobic sky.

    ‘Peanuts, sir?’ A voice suddenly pipped.

    He looked beside his seat, which had been fortunately empty before a small boy had decided to impede on its blessing. He opened his mouth ready as ever to dismiss the seller, however, something was off. Only one sentence came from his mouth once the bus meets its first stop.

    ‘Why are you here?’

    The boy didn’t answer, as the crowd around them steadily walked outside the bus to be replaced by a new one. He watched the boy’s hand, which seemed to be as dirty and slender as any other street seller. However, it had to be something.

    The door closed as the bus started to move, though not all the way. As the familiar tug woke him from his trance, the metal vehicle slowly drove forward again. He gestured the boy to sit beside him, ignoring the boy’s uncomfortable silence. He quickly rummaged through his pocket and gave the boy two-thousand rupiah, knowing the price of such things by memory.

    ‘Are you okay sir?’ The boy asked, giving him the bag of peanuts; and that’s when he realized.

    He grabbed the bag and exchanged it with his money, smiling. ‘Why are you here?’

    It was then that the sky had suddenly stopped moving. The swirling navy waves hoisted in the horizon coming into a halt, as does everything else. The boy grabbed the money from his hand, quietly stuffing it into his pocket. It was by that moment that the man had a glance of the passengers behind the boy, who seemed to have been completely halted of all movement.

    He looked back at the boy; whose eyes had slowly turned sable. He takes another huff of his cigarette, before quickly tossing it onto the floor and putting it out. The boy giggled at his gesture, its voice morphing in all pitch and tone with each huff of breath he takes. Ralph leaned further into the window, noting that the boy’s seat was slowly stained with an inky jet-black substance.

    ‘Answer my question,’ He said calmly.

    'Aw, you’re no fun,’ The boy replied, his hands slowly reaching for the man’s face.

    Instinctively, Ralph flinched away at the sight of the figure; who was now much taller and bigger than the boy’s façade. But he stilled himself to the touch, forcing his eyes to meet the sinking irises of the muddy ebony figure. Slowly, the muddy tendrils turned into a hand, though this time he recognized her.

    The rest of the figure slowly amalgamated itself into a familiar stature and silhouette, mud slowly turned into limbs as the substance that had seeped into the dirty seat slowly re-joined the pile of ink. The man had only blinked once, refusing to look away as the dark ink surrounding the creature’s top half slowly turning into long fine hair. And when her hand finally touched him; it had felt like the finest silk.

    ‘What gave it away?’ The woman chuckled playfully, tracing his cheeks before withdrawing her fingers.  

    Ralph sat in silence, as the sky and the bustling crowd suddenly regained its momentum. The woman looked at his eyes, her waist-length hair trancing his thoughts as it slowly falls to the side. He watched the world come back around them as her white chiffon blouse morphed from the inky substance, dropping into a long black velvet skirt and a pair of dark oxford shoes.

    ‘You like it?’ The woman inquired, noticing his gaze, ‘You shouldn’t give me too much credit, I merely haven’t worn the old thing in a while.’

    ‘It was your peanuts.’

    ‘Oh?’

    ‘The bag you used,’ The man explained, ‘It’s the same bag we use to pack our goods, no street vendors or sales use the same bags we do.’

    The woman hummed in amusement, taking the bag of peanuts from the man. She showed her other hand, revealing the money the man had given her—the flick of the paper quickly causing the man to flinch away. Carefully, she placed the money into the man’s shirt pocket; smiling as she does so.

    ‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ Ralph said.

    The woman gave a dramatic huff, nuzzling her back into the fabric of the dirty chair. She gave him a look, a look he knew meant business—and as he stared back into her raven irises, he wondered what her daughter had gone through to get to her. He opened his mouth to say something, but the woman quickly placed a finger onto her lips. He stilled himself, expecting her to speak once more, but she merely gestured towards the half-opened window. Curious, he looked towards the night sky, he marveled at the tall buildings, that bled into the smaller structures as the bus ventured out of the South Jakarta area

    ‘What are we looking for?’

    ‘Hush…Wait for it, my dear.’

    And there it was, as the last embers of the sun disappeared from the navy sky, the tall concrete jungle lit up with its luster. Brilliant yellow and white luminescence scattered through the tall horizon, replacing the stars who couldn’t outshine the thick night clouds. He would fly if he could, just to see the lights above what he could see through the small bus window. However, the sight came with memories, things of pain and resentment, and old wounds. He looked away from the window, and back to the woman next to him. The woman smiled; her eyes still fixated on the sight.

    ‘Beautiful isn’t it,’ She said, ‘Bitter and beautiful.’

    The man said nothing.

    ‘Remember the last time we had seen something like this, together?’

    ‘How can I forget?’ The man said, a whimper hiding beneath the stillness of his voice.

    ‘It was just like this isn’t it?’ The woman continued, ‘Just us and the group, staring at the night sky as we swore to ourselves that we would get out of this damned city.’

    The man sunk to his chair, feigning that the dirty bus floor has been the most interesting thing he had seen in his lifetime. Still, the woman went on—prying his humanity with her silken voice.

    ‘What have you done to the place, Ralph?’ The woman asked.

    ‘You mean the balcony?’ The man finally answered, unable to mask the emotions behind his voice.

    ‘I sure hope you haven’t been leaving it to lie around,’ The woman chuckled.

    ‘Ah, well…I gave it to Amo so she could run the potion lab,’ He explained, ‘Had to cover up the open sky, but the girl managed to enchant it to make it seem it was still in an open sky.’

    The woman hummed, the faintest amusement reflecting in her voice. Her eyes glanced through the man beside her, watching as the city lights trace the tips of his ruffled hair.

    ‘She has always been a resourceful witch, even if she’s merely a charm caster,’ She remarked, ‘Takes after her mother.’

    ‘Is that why you’re here?’ He asked, ‘To save what you couldn’t before.’

    The serpent shook her head ‘I’m here to fulfill a promise, a promise we had all failed to fulfill back then.’

    ‘Then why here?’

    The woman smiled, the rocking bus swaying the ends of her skirt from side to side. Her slender hands slowly reached down the pocket of her skirt, pulling out a small piece of paper. Ralph knew better than to ask now, and simply let the woman hand the paper to him. He puts his paper into his shirt pocket, making sure no one in the tiny vehicle was paying too much attention to them.

    ‘My haven has been compromised,’ She finally said. ‘And from what I’ve gathered, so has yours.’

    ‘I’ve done what I must.’

    ‘It’s not enough,’ The woman barked back.

    The serpent looked down, the strands of her dark hair draping across her skirt and blouse kindred to a curtain. The man leaned back onto his seat, realizing the bus had certainly passed his stop by this point.

    ‘If my daughter and that little charm caster of yours had managed to slither their way through my residence it’s no question they’re going to leave a trail.’

    ‘I’m sorry I had sent them.’

    ‘Oh no, no need to pity yourself,’ The woman pawed. ‘They’re merely confirming my suspicions.’

    The man paused for a moment, not knowing whether it was wise to confirm his suspicions. He ruffled through his hair, palming and tugging at its roots as if to w**d out the thoughts in his head. Still, he pried through the narrative.

    ‘So, it was true that we have traitors on our side?’

    The woman c****d her head, seemingly bewildered by the denial in the man’s voice. ‘Yes, inevitably so.’

    The man ducked his head. ‘In that case, I cannot offer you protection.’

    ‘I never thought you could,’ The woman said. ‘Which is why you must win this war.’

    The bus stopped again, this time he was aware of it. As the dwindling number of passengers exchanged with new ones, he had started to wonder if he was somehow dreaming. He looked back at the sky, slowly regaining its motion as the bus started to move again—he wouldn’t dare look at the woman beside him.

    ‘Daiva, I am not made for war.’

    ‘There is no one else, Ralph,’ The woman stated. ‘We are a dying kind my dear, you know this all too well.’

    ‘But it wasn’t supposed to be me.’

    ‘Nothing is ever set in stone, Ralph,’ The woman said, ‘not for us.’

    The man sank back into his seat, feeling the all too familiar tight feeling in his chest. His cold hands clasped onto the fabric of his pants, holding onto dear life as he refused to look up from the floor. He hears the woman’s voice, though he wouldn’t dare answer her with trembling hands and watery eyes. He couldn’t do this, not him.

    ‘What have you found?’

    ‘Something I thought I wouldn’t find after all these years.’

    The man huffed, settling himself on a more poised tone of speech. Still, he refused to look away from the ground. Quietly, he gestured the woman to continue her explanation. Of course, there was always a chance they would get caught as they do this. This was indeed a public transport that wouldn’t possibly be exempt from PURE’s security cameras. There were always possibilities, but the paper had to be safe. He knew very well not to open it or utter a word written on it. They must risk their safety for it, as it is why they were here.

    ‘I’ve found people, members of old tales and legends,’ The woman said quietly, exchanging each word with different languages so that no normal civilian would catch on.

    ‘What kind?’

    ‘My kind, the kinds that are told impossible to exist.’

    Ralph’s eyes turned wide. ‘The Mythos?’

    ‘Hush.’

    The bus stopped for the final time, and the driver was hasty to usher everyone away. The two of them followed the crowd and dispersed onto an unfamiliar side of Jakarta. Ralph kept himself volant and kept his pace as he walked into the other side of the street. He made no effort to search for the serpent, knowing she was near him despite her lack of presence.

    Quickly, he pieced together that he was on the outskirts of Depok, a dangerous part of the city for their kind. But he paid no mind to the threat, knowing as long as he posed as an average joe, he would have no problem. With that information in mind, he starts walking, hoping to find a safe place he knows.

    ‘Where are we going?’ A voice slithers, though there were no humans near him.

    ‘We need to get out of here.’

    ‘I understand we’re in the enemy’s burrow.’

    ‘Moreover, I trust your intel,’ Ralph whispered back.

    There was a pause in the serpent’s voice. The silence was quickly replaced by the subtle sound of night traffic and street vendors. Ralph never stopped walking, though he couldn’t help but tense at the sight of his shaky hands.

    His mind was racking in all the new information, planning. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it; still he tries as he must. Acts of treachery, rumors and sights of The Mythos; pieced together with the sight of a seemingly powerful mythos working against them. There was only one way for them to win. However, he knew the serpent was still lurking near him, so he gives her the chance to whisper once more.

    As the time comes, it spoke back, ‘I sense them, they are near.’

    ‘Can we take them on?’

    ‘We can,’ It replied, ‘but we must hide.’

    Ralph quickened his pace, hoping the dwindling onlookers in the street wouldn’t give too much attention to them. He knows all too well of what happens to witches and people of magic that touched this land, and they weren’t going to be one of them tonight. Gripping onto his belongings, he walked through the street.

    ‘We’re surrounded.’

    ‘Keep your pace,’ The serpent’s voiced. ‘There are more people here than there are trees, the crowd is our shield.’

    ‘No, that’s what they want you to think.’

    The night sky grew darker, and as the witch and wizard swiftly walked through the crowds it had almost seemed like it was a good night. Cold air reached the seams of their bones, as the animalistic stares from the unknown continue to haunt their trail. All drowned out, by the scene of a busy night street.

    Swiftly the man had succeeded hid himself in the crowd, but he was diligent to keep his eyes peeled. Peering into street vendors and the people of the street. He looks for wandering eyes, stares that mean trouble; and he finds them. He puts up three fingers behind his back, before quietly separating himself from the crowd.

    ‘We cannot take them on here,’ The serpent advised.

    The man kept his pace, though he whispered back, ‘Somewhere quiet, somewhere with no civilians.’

    He walks, much faster this time. His eyes skimmed through any reflective surface that could give an indication of who decided to follow him. There were two men, and a younger boy no older than twelve. He had no time to think of it.

    It didn’t take long for him to find a place to stop, his heart beating faster as he entered an abandoned building just next to a main street. The ringing in his ear confirming his uncertainty, that the sounds of street vendors and night traffic was sure to conceal any confrontation he might have soon. He looked up at the dusty ceiling, yearning once again for the open sky.

    However, it was only when the building’s metal door opened again that he had come to realize, that the serpent was no longer with him. With the absence his heart only began to sink deeper into his ribcage, and he finds himself plunging deeper into what he was.

    ‘Hello, Ralph.’

    Ralph feigned a cough, hoping to mask the presence of the thick ball of air stuck in his throat. He hadn’t quite registered the voice; fact of the matter is he hadn’t quite recognised the group of people in front of him. As the sickening rush of adrenaline flood his veins, he slowly stilled his stance; ready to bargain.

    However, the man and his group had only appeared as that; men. There were no identifying features safe for their silhouette and stature; and try as he might, Ralph could no longer remember their faces from when he had first saw them on the street. Had he been doused with something? Or was this magic exclusive to their own physical form? Ralph couldn’t help but stare at the man in front of the group, who he was almost certain was smiling behind the shadows.

    ‘So it is true what they say on the street,’ He remarked.

    ‘Oh, and what is it they say?’ The man remarked, the echo in his croaky voice driving madness up Ralph’s spine. ‘You’re quite brave to wander this far, district leader.’

    Ralph had managed a chuckle. ‘You have quite the nerve to come after me yourself.’

    The man in front of him laughed, the people behind him quickly joining his fit; and it had almost felt that they had poured gasoline onto Ralph’s fear. His skin had long lost its sense, the feeling churning inside his guts slowly seeping into his veins. Cold sweat dripped down his skin, the painful pressure behind his eyes as he desperately try not to stare at the pocket of his shirt.

    ‘Who are you?’

    The man was silent for a moment, before answering, ‘We are you.’

    His legs wobbled back, quietly hitting the foot of a table. This was wrong, they were his kind and he doesn’t ever want to fight them. He will not hit his own brothers and sisters. His cursed mind couldn’t help but flashed the image he had seen just earlier today. A vile image of a boy torn up in a dark and quiet alley.

    The paralyzing sorrow poured itself through the trails of his arteries as if they were icy, liquid metal. Ralph clamped his fists as he hesitantly took another heavy breath. He hadn’t noticed that his feet were trembling. It twitched in a sickening manor, fighting the barbaric impulse to whirl around and sprint away from fighting his own people.

    But he couldn’t give up, not yet. He knew all too well that Daiva wouldn’t leave to his own demise, not after the information she had given him. But she needs to show herself in the right moment, knowing that if they made a wrong step her existence would be exposed. She must only show herself when it absolutely necessary.

    With that in mind, he steadied his mind and pooled whatever strength he had left to stand straight. He must protect the paper. The weight of cracked floor tiles acted as his soil, as the broken ceiling exposed the dark sky above him. He hoped he would survive the night.

    ‘How?’ Ralph finally said. ‘How did they buy you in?’

    The man sighed dramatically, his head lolling back into an unnatural position before quickly snapping back into place. ‘Does it really matter?’

    The man looked up at the hole in the ceiling, smiling at the night sky. It was only when his eyes looked up that Ralph had realized the absence of his iris. The man let out and odd raspy sound, mumbling something Ralph couldn’t make out. But before Ralph could decipher any of it, the strange man snapped his fingers. With it, his two underlings quickly following his order.

    The other man moved as if he were a panther, the shadows of the torn building acting as a shield for his path. He emitted no sound, emitted no scent, showed no gesticulation—he simply ceased to exist in one path, and existed in another. The mere silence of it all was enough to drive Ralph insane. Closer and closer, the man’s features began to reveal itself. He was wearing nothing but a white t-shirt and a pair of dark fabric pants, his bony legs stretching and gliding through the dirty floor as if it were an animal. The man had long unkept hair, hiding the numbing stare of what appears to be another pair of white eyes that took away what was left of his jagged soul.

    The long-haired man chattered and grind his teeth, the motion of his taut and leathery mouth contrasting against what little light the building had. Ralph kept his ground, refusing to move his gaze from the odd man’s sunken white eyes. But the odd man continued to move in speeds his eyes couldn’t keep up with—jumping in all directions as he closed in their distance.

    Bony limbs wrapped in pale leathery skin continue to haunt the corners of his vision, until the man suddenly stopped. The odd man’s long matted hair swung meekly against the little indication of the gravity of the movement, framing the man’s sickly grin. The white eyed man was now a mere meter away from him, but the man refused to move another inch until his leader orders him to do so.

    ‘What have they done to you?’

    Of course, Ralph’s words were never answered, but there was a misplaced relief in knowing the man wouldn’t move without his leader’s say.

    However, the comfort of seeing the man so still brings another fear into Ralph’s mind—the boy. A clattering sound suddenly vibrated through the dark ceiling, followed by a deafening sound of metal hitting the dusty tiles. Instinctively, Ralph’s eyes darted up—instinctively, he wished to run.

    The boy was hunched on the ceiling, his feet planted in the old rackety structure as if it were a gecko’s legs. His small malnourished hands rested on his knees, letting his body defy gravity as he stared Ralph down with white eyes. Just like the man, the boy wore nothing but a white t-shirt and dark fabric pants; though the boy’s pants seemed to be torn to his knees. The boy’s damp and matted hair hanged loosely, pointing to the ground as if to taunt him. Ralph had to move, dear stars he wants to. But the fear, the fear had cemented him with gravity he wouldn’t dare fight. The boy was something that shouldn’t exist—the cruel bounds between The Known and The Unknown.

    Suddenly he stepped forward, startling Ralph a few steps back. The boy laughed at his fear, white sunken eyes churning up in delight as the boy flaunted his dirty grin.

     ‘Do you know why there’s no more magic in the new generation?’

    Ralph darted to the source of the voice, only to find the leader of the group staring at him, just an inch apart. The smell of bad air amalgamating with dust and rotten wood, just enough to make him gag—as he watched muddy soot slid down from the man’s shaggy hair. Ralph was almost certain he could taste it, feel it choking him like a ball of air stuck between his lungs.

    ‘It’s because they took us before we could fight back,’ The man howled, laughing by the last breath of his sentence.

    The laughing man gripped him by the collar, pulling him until their foreheads meet as the howls of his croaked laughter echoed by his two underlings. Ralph had anticipated a fight, but the first punch the man threw had barely registered in him before it hit his gut. A sudden gush of pain pinched through Ralph’s body. His stomach ached, and he quickly lost the grip in his limbs. He must think quickly.  

    ‘Arakata!’      

    A bright shield quickly formed in front of him, his vision began to blur as his eyes glow like sunbeam. Quickly, he stepped backwards, just a second before his shield breaks. This time, he makes sure to avoid the large table behind him. The laughing man lunged forwards, shrapnel of magic scattering as gravity pulls him forward. Ralph fought against his blurry concentration, planting his quivering legs to a stance as he pulls the man’s hand. He couldn’t concentrate.

    ‘Pasa!’

    Golden yellow light burst between his grip, forming a pair of chained cuffs on the strange man’s hand. Seething pain burnt through his eyes as it glows a sickly gold—he held the man tighter as he regained his surroundings. However, this is the part where he couldn’t afford to let down his guard. He focused his will on the cuffs, his free arm quickly taking hold of the strange man’s neck.

    ‘You hurt me and I’ll do worst on him!’ He barked.

    The long-haired man and the gecko boy circled him, haggard white eyes marking his every move like beasts. The odd man moved out of his sight, assuming position behind him as the gecko boy jumped down from the ceiling—raw and blistered feet hitting the dirty wooden table in front of Ralph. Startled, he took a step back, the man in his grip cackling at the tug.

    The boy squatted on the half-broken table, eyes darting around Ralph’s figure. Before Ralph could think, a sharp numbing pain seared through his back. He could hear the contents of his bag spilling onto the dirty floor, piles of his day job paperwork mixed with tablets and plastic bags of potions.

    He darted his eyes at the man behind him, who was now gripping a Ketam. A small West Javanese knife used to harvest crops. However, it’s short and agile blade meant it would make the man wielding it nearly invisible. Ralph buckled his knees at the impact, his eyes fixated on the blade. The polished metal contrasted against the red liquid dripping from its tip, and it was only when Ralph saw it did, he realize that he had been wounded.

    ‘You’re not a fighter,’ The laughing man stated, followed by another raw-throated laughter escaping his throat.

    ‘Shut up.’

    Ralph wrapped the chain tighter in his hand, focusing himself on the pain in his grip. Despite it, he could already taste the hints of copper in his mouth. He swayed backwards, unable to keep the weight of the man steady against him. He pinned his eyes on the boy in front of him, fearing what the boy can do if he let his guard down. Though through his damp sooty hair Ralph could already see that the blood from his back has already drenched the front of his shirt.

    ‘Hurung!’

    In an instant, two golden cages snapped like bear traps, one in front and the other behind him. The colours in his eyes merged into a burning gold, a bright ring forming near the corners of his vision. He felt air move behind his back, assuming the fast one has escaped him. But in front of him was the gecko boy, trapped half way in the spherical cage. Broken slender hands trying desperately to pry the rest of himself out of the sharp riggers of the cage as the lower half of his torso slowly tore away from his spine. The boy’s limbs continued to flail aimlessly, tearing itself further until the boy’s white t-shirt was marinated in blood. He didn’t look to be in pain.

    ‘NO!’

    Frantically, Ralph disparaged his spell; but it was too late. The cage broke into tiny shrapnel before dissolving into the broken tiles beneath it; the wooden table completely crushed in the process. The boy’s lifeless body slumped onto the broken table; broken bones pierced deeper with fragments of wood. The man in Ralph’s grip laughed louder.

    ‘It’s not over!’ The man cackled, ‘It’s never gonna be over!’

    Out of the corner of his eye, another strike. Ralph ducks, but loses his grip. The binds that held his captive consequentially broken from divided focus. The laughing man dodges away from him, but Ralph knew better than to pursue him. He plunged his body backwards, a glimmer of metal blade rushing just above his nose.

    The long-haired man lunged forward, sprinting towards him in an inhuman speed. Ralph falls on his back, but his reflex quickly took over and he rolled his body to the side. There was a loud c***k as the sharp blade pierced through the cold tiles. But the man was relentless, and didn’t hesitate to strike again.

    ‘Stop!’

    Ralph swung his body again, but this time the man had him pinned. He had only noticed the blade’s glimmer at the last second, and managed to shy away his face from the man’s blade. He kicked and punch the man on top of him, ignoring the cut on his face. However, the man was as still as a rock, his silver blade deadlocked towards his eyes.

    ‘Arakata!’

    His ears rings at the clash of his shield against the blade. The man refused to let go, slashing and stabbing at the bright shield. Ralph took his chance, quickly pushing the man with his shield and dodging away before the man could get back up. But something had stopped him from backing any further, and he was all too familiar with the visceral scent of bad air and rotten wood.

    Ralph dodged forward, but the man behind him quickly locked his hands behind his back. The grip of the laughing man was much too strong to break lose. The man held him up, his free hand pulling him by the throat. He kicked and fought, the feeling of his open wound touching the man’s t-shirt sending shocks of pain down his spine. Though it was no use, and it didn’t take long until the long-haired man got up to put a knife on his throat.

    ‘Game over, dipshit.’

    Like a shot, a black shadow swarmed through the frail celling, spreading over what ever sky the building had exposed. Realizing who had arrived, Ralph kicked the man in front of him; letting the blade cut his throat. He quickly leveraged himself up with the momentum, escaping the laughing man’s grip. The dark shadow grew, covering the abandoned building until nothing but darkness was left. The laughing man began swearing from under the darkness, his last underling darting in every corner in the darkness.

    ‘What is this!?’

    A low, animalistic laughter erupted from within the walls. Quietly, Ralph made his way to the door; careful not to get caught a second time. Though he doesn’t exit the building just yet. As the air slowly fell colder, he tunes out the voice of the laughing man and his underling; searching for a different voice.

    ‘Where are you?’

    ‘Do not worry yourself, my dear,’ A voice whispered.

    Ralph sighed in the familiarity of its presence. ‘Where have you been?’

    ‘There were others,’ The serpent whispered, ‘more of us, more of their kind.’

    ‘What have you done with them?’

    The serpent giggled at his question, not saying another word. Ralph exhaled at the absence, but swiftly focused himself back into the fray. His fear had dissipated with her arrival, finding he no longer needs to utter words to cast his spells. However, there was still an inkling of fear of her capture. With that thought in the back of his head, Ralph’s eyes glowed a subtle white as cold and numbing sensation surged through the blood in his eyes. He blinked a few times, adjusting himself to the new vision. He opened his eyes, hoping its colour doesn’t give him away.

    The air was no longer just a dark plane in his eyes, as he now sees things in outline. Silhouettes in the dark and figures moving silently against the traces of the serpent’s dark clouds. He treads lightly across the field, careful not to alert them with stepping on broken tiles. His hands slowly traced the top of his back, his index finger soaked with his own blood. Slowly, he arched his back forward to relief some of the pain, trying his best not to let the pain show in his voice.

    He sees the laughing man clearly; his frantic reaches and loud curses was enough to identify where he was without the spell. However, the long-haired man was harder to see, with the man’s ability to manifest rapid movement spells with little to no intervals. He had a hard time keeping up with the wretched man without the darkness.

    Ralph clenched the side of his shirt, something in him wondering why a group that had managed to maintain such intricate spells had no knowledge of a basic spell to help see in the darkness. It was then that his stomach began to churn at the serpent’s words. How many of the children had PURE taken away? How young were they when they were forced to be weapons? How many of them didn't know what they were?

    ‘Where are you!’ The laughing man screamed.

     Ralph inches closer, ready to cast a spell. He ducks back in anticipation of the long-haired man’s aimless swing, letting the man linger around him. Ralph’s eyes glowed a mixture of white and bronze as he casts another spell. Swiftly he placed a hand behind the man, catching the man as he falls from his spell.

    The long-haired man uttered no sound as his body paused all of its functions, the rise and fall on his chest halting into stone. The man was alive, though Ralph must move quickly to the other enemy. The average human can only hold their breath for approximately two minutes, and he only has that much time before he needs to kill another man with his magic.

    He walks again, praying his Alliges Duplicate won’t need to last long enough to kill the man. Treading carefully, he begins to feel the strain of holding the magic in his eyes and on halting the long-haired man’s movements. He racks his mind for a number of spells, not thinking he would make his way this far. He needs something effective, something that doesn’t use up a lot of his energy. Nevertheless, he was only an inch away from the man. He reeled up his energy, ready to knock out the man.

    The laughing man swung aimlessly, though no magic came from him. Ralph dodged each punch, but his foot had made a fatal step. A loud crunch came from under him, a piece of wood from what remains of the boy and table.

    The laughing man lunged forward, cursing his name. He dodges, though not fast enough. His concentration breaks, it had only been a minute. He hears frantic footsteps nearing towards him, a glimmer of silvery metal just a few meters away. He wrestled the man in front of him, pulling the man to the ground with his weight. His arm aches at the man’s scratches, white eyes swelling from anger as desperate dull nails dug into sections of Ralph’s arm.

    Ralph held the man down, not willing to make the same mistake twice. He waits for the long-haired man, waiting for the right time. Sounds of splitting wood and shattering tiles grew closer, as the nails of the man beneath him bore deeper scars into his skin. There was a scream, and the sound of heavy boots just inches away from him.

    ‘GET AWAY FROM HIM!’

    Ralph closed his eyes, not wanting to see the frenzied white eyes lunging at him. The colours in his eyes quickly faded away, quickly replaced by an overwhelming lightning purple. Ralph screams in pain, as an outpouring energy fills the pores of his bones. He held his grip tighter, feeling the wounds on his arms grew and rupture while a familiar scorching heat pours through the veins of his arms.

    ‘Wait!’ The serpent screamed.

    The roaring sound of lightning signalled the end of the fight, and branches of purple thunder filled the old wooden building. However, all the man heard was nothing but ringing and white noise. His jaws forced itself to its limits, letting out a gut-wrenching scream. The black smoke was gone, and Ralph slowly opened his eyes. His mind filled only with screams of pain. Every frantic though scorched and burnt as his body writhed in lightning and flame. White noise filled his eyes as searing pain soared through his skull; he felt death just beneath him.

    When the lightning finally stopped, it was the smell that plunged him back to reality. His nose wrinkled at the scent of burning flesh and wood, and it took him a few moments to realize he had been sitting on a dead body. He frantically crawled away from the laughing man, who was now nothing more than a pile of burning meat and bones.

    ‘NO!’

    He screamed, frantically darting back and forth towards the two dead men and the massacred body of a dead child. There was nothing else beyond, nothing but charred and burning brickwork. His bloodshot eyes traced what was once the laughing man, observing in horror the mark he had made. The weight of the lightning’s impact, how it destroyed the man’s body and left the tiles and concrete cracked and broken. He was nothing more than burnt and smoking flesh. His blood-soaked clothes charred and pooling into long black strands onto the broken tiles as they melted into thick, jet-black streaks.

    He wrapped his hands with the palm of his hands, the smouldering feeling of raw flesh against burnt clothes and ash sending waves of agony he wished he’d never discovered. His hands frantically rummaged through every surface on his body, in search for more wounds. Every touch felt as if another lightning was going to spew out of him, his half-dead body flinching and twisting with every foreign sound and touch. His hands made their way to his hair once more, as if to w**d out every possibility that this was a dream. He pulled on every strand, his shaky palms covering his ears as ceiling rubbles disturbed his senses.

    ‘Da-Daiva…’

    He muttered the name, over and over as he tried his best to distract himself from the smell of burning flesh. The dark clouds formed once more, materializing as the woman he knew. His vision slowly blurred, tears streaming down his face and into the blood on his hands. But his eyes couldn’t miss the sight of Daiva kneeling beside him, her petite fingers wiping the tears off his face and stroking his dirty and burnt hair.

    ‘Let’s go home, my dear.’

    Midnight had just passed, the light of any star long since ebbed and dwindled to nothing in the wake of the season’s dark clouds. Amo kept her pace, attempting her best endeavour at cleaning up the house. Of course, she thinks of her Mandy; stuck alone in a small white room. She ought to pack some things for her tomorrow.   

    ‘What did she say she wanted?’ She spoke to herself, whipping away the last few drops of her parents from the floor.

    She looked up, huffing a deep breath at the sight of all the broken lightbulbs—wondering if she’d get the chance to eat if she bought new ones. However, her mind refused to stay still for the night. She closed her eyes, the feeling of dread slowly reclaiming her with its claws.

    ‘If you must tell them, only reveal the surface.’

    ‘Andrew, our whole plan was to help you get out of this!’

    ‘If you can’t cover my trail, tell them I’m the rat,’ The boy said, clenching his fist. ‘No matter what happens no one can know what we’re doing.’

    ‘Why’ Amo sighed, throwing her mop towel into the bucket.

    She lets her body slump on the clean couch, thankful she had used the scented fabric cleaner. She fishes the tv remote from the coffee table and turns on the tv, letting it play on one of the news channels. She makes herself comfortable on the couch, dozing of on the low sounds of the tv.

    “Breaking News: Old Warehouse Building in Depok Set Ablaze, Two Bodies Found”