Early that morning, Desa Waringin had not yet fully awakened when four children stood in front of a small roadside stall.
Arga checked the contents of his bag for the third time.
Notebook.
Pencil.
Flashlight.
Water bottle.
Rope.
Mahesa's compass.
Everything was there.
Sinta carried a backpack filled with books and a small camera.
Bimo carried a large flashlight and a pair of shoes he claimed were “perfect for adventure.”
Nala carried her sketchbook.
Meanwhile, Chirp perched on a utility pole, glaring down at them.
“You guys are taking forever.”
Arga looked up at the bird.
“We just got here.”
“Exactly. I’ve already been waiting fifteen minutes.”
“You’re a bird.”
“And?”
“You can fly.”
Chirp flapped his wings.
“Then you’re the ones walking too slowly.”
Bimo laughed.
“I like this bird.”
“I don’t like you,” Chirp replied.
Bimo laughed even harder.
Nala smiled.
Sinta just shook her head.
For the first time since they had met, the mood felt a little lighter.
But Arga knew this journey was different.
They were not looking for a ghost in a village.
They were heading somewhere even adults rarely went.
Gunung Berkabut.
The mountain stood about two hours from Desa Waringin.
Its peak was almost always covered in mist.
Not many people climbed it because the trail was difficult and often changed.
According to local stories, the mountain was guarded by a huge, black-furred creature called a genderuwo.
The creature was said to drive away anyone who ventured too far inside.
Arga had heard that story when he was little.
But now he was beginning to wonder.
What if the story was true?
And what if the genderuwo wasn’t a creature they needed to fear?
They entered the forest toward noon.
The dirt road gradually turned into a rocky trail.
The trees grew taller.
The air grew colder.
The sounds of the village faded away.
All that remained was the sound of their footsteps and birds calling in the distance.
Sinta unfolded the map.
“According to Grandpa Mahesa’s notes, we have to follow the river until we find a rock shaped like an elephant’s head.”
Bimo looked at the little river beside them.
“If the rock is shaped like an elephant’s head, what if we get it wrong?”
“What if it’s shaped like a chicken’s head?”
“Then we’re lost.”
Nala laughed.
Arga walked ahead, holding the compass.
Its needle pointed straight up.
Toward the mountain.
But the farther they climbed, the more unstable the needle became.
It spun.
Stopped.
Then spun again.
“That’s strange.”
Sinta moved closer.
“What is?”
“The compass is confused.”
Chirp flew low between the trees.
“It’s not the compass that’s confused.”
“Then what is?”
“This mountain has a lot of paths.”
Arga looked at the bird.
“So what are we supposed to do?”
“Don’t trust the path that looks easiest.”
They looked at one another.
“Why?” Bimo asked.
“Because the easy path usually isn’t the right one.”
Half an hour later, they came to a fork in the trail.
There were three paths.
The first was wide and clear.
The second was narrow but looked well traveled.
The third was almost covered by bushes.
Sinta opened the map.
“Mahesa’s notes say we have to choose the path that’s used the least.”
Bimo pointed to the third path.
“Then that’s it.”
Arga nodded.
They started walking.
A few minutes later...
Nala stopped.
“Wait.”
Everyone turned.
“What is it?”
Nala held her sketchbook.
Her hands were trembling.
“This page changed.”
She opened the book.
The drawing that had been blank before was now filling itself in.
Black lines appeared as if they were being drawn by an invisible hand.
A mountain.
Four children.
A bird.
And a large figure standing behind them.
The figure had a massive body.
Long hair.
Broad hands.
Its face was indistinct.
Words appeared beneath the drawing:
DON’T WAKE IT.
Bimo swallowed hard.
“Great.”
Arga looked at him.
“What?”
“We’re only halfway there, and there’s already a warning not to wake something up.”
Chirp nodded.
“That means we’re in the right place.”
Toward evening, they reached a small plateau.
In the middle stood a large, strangely shaped rock.
Bimo walked closer.
“This is it.”
Sinta checked the map.
“The elephant-head rock.”
Arga examined it.
It was true.
From a certain angle, the rock really did look like an elephant’s head.
But something was strange.
Beneath the rock was the same carving as the emblem of the Seven Guardians Seal.
Arga touched it.
The ground trembled.
Boom...
They all fell silent.
Boom...
The second tremor was stronger.
Bimo backed away.
“Don’t tell me that’s the mountain.”
Chirp flapped his wings.
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“A heartbeat.”
“Whose heartbeat?”
Chirp did not answer.
The ground in front of them suddenly cracked.
Black mist poured from the fissure.
Then they heard a growl.
Low.
Deep.
And enormous.
GRRRRRRRR...
Nala grabbed Sinta’s arm.
Arga gripped his flashlight.
Bimo raised a stick he had found on the ground.
“We’re not actually going to use that to fight something, are we?” Sinta asked.
Bimo looked at the stick in his hand.
“Honestly, I was hoping we would.”
The mist grew thicker.
A huge hand emerged from behind the trees.
Then a second hand.
A giant figure stepped out.
Its body was covered in thick black fur.
It stood nearly ten feet tall.
Its eyes were yellowish red.
Its teeth were enormous.
And its breathing sounded like wind blowing through a cave.
Bimo dropped the stick.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
The creature stared at them.
Then it growled.
“Go.”
Its voice was as heavy as stone scraping against stone.
Arga gathered his courage and stepped in front of his friends.
“We’re here to find someone.”
The creature growled louder.
“Go!”
The ground shook.
Bimo pulled Arga back.
“We tried talking.”
Arga shook his head.
“Wait.”
He looked into the creature’s eyes.
There was no hatred there.
There was something else.
Fear.
Arga looked at Chirp.
“You said not all guardians are enemies.”
Chirp was silent.
“Right?”
The bird nodded.
Arga turned back to the huge creature.
“Your name... is it genderuwo?”
The creature fell silent.
“Who told you that?”
“The book.”
The genderuwo looked at Sinta.
Sinta held up her book.
“We’re looking for the mountain’s guardian.”
The creature slowly lowered its head.
“I am its guardian.”
Nala stepped forward.
“Are you the one who disappeared from the drawing?”
The genderuwo stared at her.
“The drawing?”
Nala showed him the book.
As soon as he saw the page, the genderuwo’s expression changed.
“Who drew that?”
“I did.”
The creature moved closer.
Nala did not move.
The genderuwo studied the drawing for a long time.
Then he said softly,
“He has begun to take shape.”
“Who?” Arga asked.
The genderuwo raised his head.
“The Shadow Collector.”
The name made Chirp fly backward.
“What do you know about him?” Sinta asked.
The genderuwo did not answer right away.
He walked toward the large rock.
His hand touched the carving on its surface.
“This mountain used to have another guardian.”
“Who?”
“My brother.”
Arga furrowed his brow.
“Your brother?”
The genderuwo nodded.
“His name is Genta.”
“He guarded the water source beneath the mountain.”
His voice grew softer.
“He disappeared three nights ago.”
They looked at one another.
Arga remembered Nala’s drawing.
Someone who had disappeared.
“Was the Shadow Collector the one who kidnapped him?”
The genderuwo looked at Arga.
“I don’t know.”
“But ever since he disappeared, the mountain has begun to change.”
He pointed toward the peak.
The mist there swirled like a whirlpool.
“The river is drying up.”
“The birds are leaving.”
“And every night...”
The genderuwo stopped.
“I hear someone calling my name.”
Nala clutched her sketchbook.
“Whose voice?”
“Genta’s.”
Night fell faster on the mountain.
The genderuwo led them to a small cave behind a waterfall.
Inside was a circle of stones covered in ancient carvings.
Sinta turned on her lamp.
“This looks like a ritual chamber.”
“This is not a ritual site,” the genderuwo said.
“This is a guardian chamber.”
In the center of the room was a round stone.
The stone was cracked.
Sinta immediately moved toward it.
“This...”
Arga took out the black stone they had found in the river.
The stone began to glow.
The cracks in the two objects looked identical.
Sinta looked at Arga.
“A Seal Fragment.”
The genderuwo nodded.
“One of the seals has been stolen.”
“And its fragment was carried into the river,” Arga said.
Chirp flew around the stone.
“That means someone is weakening all the guardians.”
“Why?” Bimo asked.
Chirp fell silent.
The genderuwo answered.
“Because if all seven seals are destroyed...”
The mist inside the cave stirred.
“...the Shadow Gate will open.”
Silence filled the cave.
Arga looked at his friends.
“And what happens if the gate opens?”
The genderuwo looked at them.
“The human world and the supernatural world will no longer have a boundary between them.”
Bimo raised his hand.
“And that’s bad, right?”
“Very bad.”
“All right.”
Bimo nodded.
“Next question.”
“What?”
“How do we close it?”
The genderuwo gave a faint smile.
“A better question.”
Suddenly, Nala let out a small scream.
Her sketchbook fell to the ground.
Everyone turned.
The book opened by itself.
A new drawing appeared.
Genta.
The giant, fur-covered figure stood at the edge of a river.
But behind him stood a figure in a black cloak.
A purple lantern hung from its hand.
And beneath the drawing were the words:
GENTA IS STILL ALIVE.
Arga dropped to one knee.
“Then we have to find him.”
The genderuwo stared at them.
“You don’t know what you’re up against.”
Arga stood.
“Maybe.”
Sinta stood too.
“But we’re already involved.”
Bimo raised his flashlight.
“And I already hiked all the way up this mountain.”
Nala held her sketchbook.
“I want to help.”
The genderuwo looked at them one by one.
For the first time, his face looked a little calmer.
“All right.”
He picked up a small blue stone from the ground.
“If you truly want to find Genta...”
He handed the stone to Arga.
“...follow the sound of water.”
“Water?”
“Every river on this mountain flows toward one place.”
“That’s where Genta was last seen.”
Arga closed his hand around the blue stone.
Suddenly, they heard a sound.
Knock... knock... knock...
They all froze.
The sound came from inside the cave.
Three knocks.
Then three more.
Knock... knock... knock...
The genderuwo immediately stood.
His face grew tense.
“Genta.”
“He’s here?”
The genderuwo shook his head.
“No.”
He stared at the dark passage behind them.
“He’s trying to warn us.”
Bimo’s flashlight flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then it went out.
Darkness filled the cave.
From far away came the sound of footsteps.
One.
Two.
Three.
Coming closer.
Then a woman’s voice whispered from within the darkness.
“Don’t follow the river...”
Nala gripped Sinta’s hand.
The voice came again.
“...because the river no longer belongs to you.”
A purple light appeared at the end of the passage.
A lantern.
The Shadow Collector.
Arga gripped the compass.
Its needle spun wildly.
Chirp shouted,
“RUN!”
They ran out of the cave.
The genderuwo stood at the rear, blocking the passage.
When Arga looked back, he saw a figure in a black cloak standing face-to-face with the genderuwo.
The purple flames from its lantern lit their faces.
Then they heard the genderuwo’s voice.
“Why have you come back?”
The Shadow Collector answered in a calm voice.
“I didn’t come back for you.”
He raised the lantern.
“I came for those children.”
Arga stopped.
“Why us?”
The Shadow Collector turned toward him.
Although his face was hidden behind a mask, Arga felt sure the figure was smiling.
“Because you’re carrying something I desperately need.”
The compass in Arga’s hand blazed brightly.
And for the first time...
its needle pointed nowhere at all.
Instead, it pointed straight at the Shadow Collector.