Alya The house still stood at the end of Jalan Kenanga, even as the entire city began to change. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary old house—peeling white paint, a rusted iron fence, and a huge mango tree whose roots had cracked the sidewalk. Yet that night, not a single light in the neighboring houses was on. Every window was closed. Everyone had left the street. Alya stood before the fence, gripping the hilt of the sword wrapped in black cloth. Kael stood beside her. Raka stood behind them, his face pale, while Darian watched the sky. A crack in the air hung directly above the house. “Why doesn’t anyone see this?” Alya asked. “They see an empty house,” Kael replied. “This house isn’t empty.” “Not to us.” Kael pushed the fence. Its hinges moved on their own before he touched it. The fence swung open with a long, heavy creak. Alya stared at the yard. The mango tree was still just as she remembered it. Its trunk was massive, its bark rough, and its lowest branch had once been where Alya and Raka hung a swing. Yet small white flowers had grown among its roots. Those flowers had never been there before. Darian knelt beside one of them. “Don’t touch it.” “What is it?” “Grave flowers.” “Why are they growing here?” “Because someone was buried beneath them.” Alya stared at the tree. “Who?” Darian looked at Kael. Kael didn’t answer. Alya turned to him. “Who was buried there?” “There’s no body.” “Then what is there?” “Memories.” Alya felt the mark on her wrist pulse. Suddenly, she remembered something. On the night her mother died, before the house burned down, her mother had taken her into the yard. Little Alya had sat beneath the mango tree, hugging her knees. Her mother had dug into the soil with her bare hands. Then she had buried a small wooden box. “Never open it until you’re truly alone,” her mother had said. Alya had never remembered that moment until now. She stared at the ground beneath the tree. “There’s something down there.” Kael reached for her shoulder. “Don’t dig.” “Why?” “Because it isn’t meant for you.” “Everything in this house is connected to me.” “Not everything.” “Then tell me the truth.” Kael looked at the tree. “Beneath it are the remains of your mother’s memories. She hid them so Seraphine couldn’t find them.” “Memories of what?” “The gateway.” Raka suddenly staggered. Alya caught him at once. “Are you all right?” “I hear a voice.” “Mom’s voice?” Raka nodded. “She’s under the house.” Kael stared at the front door. “Not only your mother.” “What else?” “The first guardian.” Alya opened the door. The smell of dust and old wood greeted them. The house had been empty for two days, but it felt as though someone had just left. In the living room, a lamp flickered without electricity. Family photographs still hung on the walls. Alya, Raka, and their mother. Alya walked toward one of the photographs. She saw her mother’s face. It was perfectly clear. Not like the memory Seraphine had taken from her. Alya raised her hand to touch the glass. The moment her finger touched the surface of the photograph, the image changed. Her mother was no longer smiling. She stood in a dark room, holding a man’s hand. The man was Kael. Alya froze. They stood in the same basement, but decades earlier. Her mother was holding a baby. Raka. Kael appeared to be speaking seriously. “If I fail,” her mother said, “you have to take Alya to the human world.” “I already made a promise.” “Not just take her. Protect her from her own blood.” “The guardian blood won’t awaken until the gateway opens.” “The gateway will open when Raka turns seventeen.” “Then we have time.” “No.” Her mother looked at baby Raka. “Seraphine has already found its trail.” Kael looked away. “She’ll come tonight.” Alya pulled her hand away from the photograph. The image returned to normal. “Kael.” He stood several steps behind her. “I can explain.” “How many times have you come to this house?” Kael was silent. “Answer me.” “Many.” “When I was little?” “Yes.” “Did I ever see you?” “No.” “Why not?” “I used concealment magic.” “So you were near me all this time?” “Not every moment.” “How often?” Kael turned his face away. “Too often.” Alya felt her chest tighten. She didn’t know what hurt more—learning that Kael had killed her mother, or learning that for years he had watched them from a distance. “Did you ever see me sleeping?” Kael tensed. “Yes.” “Did you ever touch me?” “No.” “Did you ever speak to me?” “Once.” “When?” “When you were eight.” Alya tried to remember. A rainy night. She had woken to the sound of footsteps in the yard. She had climbed out of bed and seen a man standing beyond the window. The man wore a black coat. Little Alya opened the window. “Are you an angel?” she asked. The man answered, “No.” “Are you a ghost?” “No.” “Then who are you?” The man raised his hand and pointed at the moon. “Don’t be afraid of the shadow beneath your bed.” Alya closed the window. The next morning, she forgot everything. But now she remembered. “You,” she whispered. Kael didn’t deny it. “You were outside the window that night.” “Yes.” “You told me not to be afraid.” “Yes.” “Even though you were the one I should have been afraid of.” Kael looked at her. “Yes.” Raka walked toward the hallway leading to the basement. “The door is there.” Alya followed. The wooden door at the end of the hallway was coated in dust. Its handle was a rusted iron ring covered in tiny symbols. Alya had tried to open it when she was ten. The handle had never moved. Now, before she touched it, the door opened. The stairs leading down into the basement were dark. Cold air flowed up from below. Raka stood on the first step. “We have to go down.” Kael blocked him. “Don’t.” Raka looked at him. “If I don’t go down, the gateway won’t find its place.” “The gateway has already found you.” “Not completely.” Darian lit a small light in his palm. “Stay together. Don’t touch the walls.” “Why?” Alya asked. “These walls hold time.” “Time?” “Anyone who touches them will see a possible future.” “And what’s the danger?” “You may not want to come back.” They descended. The stairs were longer than they should have been. Alya’s house had only one floor and a small basement, but they had been walking down for several minutes. The walls on either side slowly changed. Wood became stone. Paint became carvings. The house lights became blue torches. Alya looked up. The door to the house had vanished. “Kael.” “I know.” “Have we entered Elyndor?” “Not yet.” “Then what is this?” “The space between.” Raka stopped. Ahead of them, the stairs ended in a vast room. It resembled an underground station, but the rails stretching across its center were made of light. Thousands of small doors lined the walls, each with a name carved into its surface. Alya saw names she didn’t recognize. Then she saw one she knew very well. ALYA PRAMESWARI The door stood at the far end of the room. Beside it was another door. RAKA PRAMESWARI Raka walked toward his door. Kael immediately pulled him back. “Don’t open it.” “Why?” “That door holds all the lives you were never supposed to live.” Alya stared at the door. “All the lives?” “Every choice creates a path. Every path has a door.” “And behind our doors?” “The choices that never happened.” Raka touched the handle. Golden light spread outward. In an instant, their mother’s voice came from behind the door. “Raka, open it.” Raka held his breath. Alya took his hand. “Don’t.” “But that’s Mom.” “It might not be her.” Raka looked at Alya. “What if it is?” “If it is, she’ll still be there after we close the gateway.” Darian walked toward the center of the room. “Hurry. The main gateway is beneath us.” The floor began to tremble. One of the small doors opened. Black fog emerged from behind it. Kael drew the sword from its cloth wrapping. “The hunters are inside.” Faceless creatures came out of several doors. They no longer resembled police officers or doctors. They took Alya’s form. Dozens of versions of her stood throughout the room. There was little Alya. Alya at eighteen. An older Alya. Alya with a face covered in wounds. Alya wearing a silver crown. Alya holding Kael’s head in her lap. Alya stabbing Kael with a sword. “Don’t look at them,” Kael said. But one of the figures stepped closer. It looked like Alya, but its eyes were black. “If you open that door,” it said, “you’ll see your future.” Alya stared at it. “What is my future?” “You become the queen of Elyndor.” The figure pointed at another Alya wearing a crown. “Kael becomes your guard.” Alya turned to Kael. Another figure appeared on the other side of the room. “I become human,” Kael’s double said. “And you lose everyone you love.” A third double smiled. “You and Kael live together for ten years, then he grows old and dies before you.” Alya closed her eyes. “This isn’t the future.” “Every future can become real.” Kael slashed at the nearest creature. The silver blade cleaved through Alya’s double, but the creature turned to smoke and reappeared behind Raka. Raka screamed. Kael moved, but he was too late. Alya’s double touched Raka’s chest. Golden light poured from his body. Alya immediately raised her hand. A wall of light slammed into the creature. The double was thrown back and crashed into the door bearing Raka’s name. The door opened. A house was visible beyond it. The same house. But that house was burning. Alya saw her younger self kneeling before her mother. Baby Raka was crying beside her. Kael stood in the doorway with a sword in his hand. But this time, someone stood behind Kael. A tall man with his face hidden behind a golden mask. He was holding Kael’s hand. “Kill the guardian,” the man said. Kael struggled against him. “I won’t kill her children.” “Kill the guardian.” “No.” The masked man pressed down on Kael’s hand. Black shadows pierced his body. Kael fell to his knees. Then Seraphine appeared behind the man. “If you don’t kill her,” she said, “I’ll kill both children.” Kael raised his sword. Alya backed away from the door. “Who is that man?” Kael stared at the door. “I don’t know.” “He forced you?” “Yes.” “Why have you never mentioned him?” “Because I don’t remember him.” “He was behind you when you killed Mom.” “Yes.” Darian stared at the door, his face tense. “The golden mask.” “What?” Alya asked. “If he’s still alive, that means Seraphine has summoned one of Elyndor’s founders.” “Who is he?” Darian didn’t answer. Kael looked at him. “Darian.” The timekeeper sighed. “His name is Voren.” Raka clutched his chest. “He’s inside me.” Alya turned. “What?” “The voice I’ve been hearing all this time. The man with the golden mask.” Kael raised his sword. “Where?” Raka pointed at the open door. “Beyond the gateway.” The floor split apart. A massive circle appeared beneath them. Golden light streamed from the cracks, forming the same pattern as the mark on Alya’s hand. Darian looked at his pocket watch. Its hands were spinning backward. “The gateway is beginning to open.” “How do we close it?” Alya asked. Darian looked at Kael. “Kael has to stand at the center of the circle.” “Then what?” “Raka has to touch him.” Raka looked at Kael. “And Alya?” “Alya’s blood has to flow into the sword.” Kael looked at Alya. “No.” Alya turned. “Why?” “The sword will take all your blood.” “How much?” “All of it.” “So I have to die?” Kael didn’t answer. Raka stood at the edge of the circle. “There’s no other choice.” Alya looked at him. “There has to be.” “No.” “If I die, will Raka live?” “The gateway will close.” “And Kael?” “The contract will end.” Kael immediately grabbed Raka’s shoulder. “Don’t talk like this is already decided.” Raka looked at him with golden eyes. “I’m not the one choosing.” “Then who is?” Raka pointed at the door that was still open. A man in a golden mask stepped through it. Behind him, Seraphine smiled. “The gateway,” Raka said. The masked man raised his hand. Every door in the room opened at once. From each door came versions of lives that had never happened. Hundreds of Alyas. Hundreds of Rakas. Hundreds of Kaels. They all stood around them. Seraphine stepped forward. “You’ve finally come home, Voren.” The masked man turned toward her. “I never left home.” Kael raised his sword. Voren looked at him. “And you still carry the same weapon.” “This sword will kill you.” “That sword was forged from guardian blood. It only kills those who have chosen to die.” Alya looked at Kael. “Is that true?” Kael didn’t answer. Voren raised his hand. The sword flew from Kael’s grip and hovered in the air. Alya caught it at once. The blade pierced straight through her palm. Blood flowed. Seraphine smiled. “There it is.” The mark on the floor lit up. Raka screamed. Darian dropped his pocket watch. The hands stopped. Kael ran toward Alya. “Alya, let go of the sword!” “I can’t!” “Let go!” “It’s stuck to me!” Voren laughed. “You’re always so slow to understand the rules.” Alya’s blood flowed faster and faster. The floor beneath them began to crack. Seraphine looked at Alya with satisfaction. “Open the door.” Alya felt the strength draining from her body. She saw Kael running toward her. Saw Raka fall to his knees. Saw Darian pressing his pocket watch. Seven minutes. Only seven minutes. Alya tightened her grip on the sword. If she had to sacrifice herself, she wanted to make sure the sacrifice wasn’t made for Seraphine. She closed her eyes. Then she heard her mother’s voice. Not from the sword. Not from the door. From inside her own blood. “Don’t close the gateway, Alya!” “Open it all the way!” Alya opened her eyes. Seraphine was smiling before her. But behind the queen stood her mother, without a shadow. Her face was still the same as in the photograph. Her green eyes looked at Alya. And for the first time, her mother said something that wasn’t part of anyone’s plan. “Set me free!” Alya pulled the sword from the floor. The blood flowed even faster. The gateway opened completely. Seraphine screamed. “No!” Kael seized Alya’s hand. “What are you doing?” Alya looked at her mother. “I’m bringing everyone home.” White light exploded from her body. And far beneath the house, something that had been buried for twenty years began to awaken.