Baskoro saw her from a distance—Andini emerging from the dance studio late at night, her face flushed, her steps light as if she were floating, wearing a small smile she couldn't hide even as she walked alone along the dark footpath.
He didn't need to ask what had happened. He already knew.
The next day, Baskoro deliberately waited for Andini on the path to the dance studio, sitting on a large rock beside the footpath with an expression that tried to look casual.
"Morning," he greeted her as soon as Andini appeared.
"Bas? What are you doing here so early?"
"Keeping you company while you practice," he replied, trying to sound casual even though his chest felt heavy. "If you don't mind."
Andini gave him a slightly suspicious look, but finally nodded. They walked together toward the dance studio in awkward silence, until Baskoro couldn't stand it anymore.
"Andini," he said quietly, "I saw you last night. Coming out of the dance studio."
Andini's steps stopped for a moment. "Were you spying on me again?"
"I just happened to be passing by," Baskoro defended himself, though even to his own ears, his voice sounded unconvincing. "But that's not the point. I saw your face, Andin. I've known you since we were kids. I know that expression."
Andini fell silent and didn't answer, which was an answer in itself to Baskoro.
"So it's true," he said, his voice quiet but filled with something painful. "You've fallen in love with him."
"Bas—"
"I'm not mad," he cut in quickly, though it was obvious he was holding something back. "I just... I just didn't expect it to happen this fast. And I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."
They stood in the middle of the footpath as the morning wind stirred the leaves around them.
"I didn't expect it either," Andini said honestly, her voice gentle. "I didn't plan for this to happen, Bas. But every time I'm with him, I feel... I feel like he really sees me, not just as the descendant who has to fulfill an ancestral pact."
"And I've never made you feel that way?" Baskoro's voice came out sharper than he intended.
"That's not what I mean," Andini hurried to explain, reaching for her friend's hand. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Bas. You're always there, always honest, always genuinely worried about me. But this... this is different. I can't explain why."
Baskoro slowly pulled his hand away, not angrily, but with a sadness far heavier to bear. "Do you know what hurts most about all this? It's not that you chose him. It's that I know exactly what kind of danger you'll be facing, and I can't protect you from it, because I'm not the one you want there with you."
"Bas, I—"
"I'm sorry," he interrupted, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "This isn't the time for me to be selfish. Angkara has sped up the excavation, and you have much more important things to think about than my feelings."
"Your feelings matter, Bas. You're my friend."
Baskoro gave her a small smile, one that was clearly forced. "I'll still be here, Andin. As your friend, whatever happens. I just need some time to... adjust to all this."
They continued on toward the dance studio in silence, but something between them had already changed—not broken, but different, like a bridge that had just been tested under strain and turned out to be strong enough, even with a few cracks that had not fully healed.
When they reached the dance studio, they found the atmosphere far tenser than usual. Pak Marto stood in front of the door, his expression grim, while in the distance, the sound of a chainsaw could be heard much closer than it had been in previous days.
"They're already halfway up the hill," Pak Marto said as soon as he saw Andini and Baskoro arrive. "In two more days, they'll reach the dance studio grounds."
Two days.
Andini felt as if the floor beneath her had collapsed. No matter how much she had practiced with Branjangan all this time, the time remaining was far shorter than she had imagined.
"Where's Branjangan?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Inside," Pak Marto replied. "But, Nduk—he looks different this morning. Not like usual."
Andini hurried inside, and what she found made her heart sink. Branjangan stood in the middle of the dance studio, but his form looked indistinct, like an image beginning to fade, the edges of his body shuddering unsteadily like a candle flame blown by the wind.
"Branjangan!"
He turned, and although he tried to give her a reassuring smile, Andini could see the pain hidden behind it.
"They're close," he said, his voice weaker than usual. "Every tree that falls on this hill, I feel it in my own body. My anchor is growing weaker, Andini. Faster than I thought it would."
Andini stepped closer, her hand reaching out even though she hesitated to touch the figure that looked so fragile before her.
"How much longer?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Branjangan gazed at her for a long moment, and for the first time since they had met, Andini saw something approaching despair in the eyes of the being who had always seemed so calm.
"I don't know for sure," he answered honestly. "But if they reach the dance studio before we finish the Closing Movement—I’m afraid I won’t have time to wait anymore, Andini. We may already be out of time."