Brajamusti and Sinta continued north after leaving the hill behind. They were both still thinking about the brown-robed figure they had seen that morning.
"It seems like you know him," Brajamusti said.
Sinta shook her head.
"I just feel like I've seen him before."
"Is he an enemy?"
"I don't know."
They continued on until they reached a crossroads. An old wooden sign stood there, pointing in two different directions.
Sinta pointed to the road on the left.
"We'll take this one."
Brajamusti followed without asking many questions.
The road led them to a small forest shrouded in mist. The farther they went, the thicker the mist became.
Brajamusti stopped.
"This place is strange."
Sinta nodded.
"Don't stray far from me."
They moved forward slowly.
Suddenly, the sound of a flute drifted from somewhere in the distance.
Brajamusti immediately fell silent.
The melody sounded remarkably similar to the flute Grandpa Paijo had given him.
"Did you hear that?"
Sinta nodded.
They followed the sound.
Beyond the mist, they found a massive stone carved with the same dragon design as the one on Brajamusti's flute.
Brajamusti stepped closer.
The moment his hand touched the carving, the flute at his waist began to tremble.
Sinta jumped.
"Don't touch it!"
Too late.
A faint light appeared within the stone carving.
The mist around them swirled and formed a path.
At the end of the path stood the shadow of an old man.
Brajamusti fell silent.
Although the man's face was impossible to make out clearly, Brajamusti recognized his voice.
"Brajamusti..."
It was Grandpa Paijo's voice.
"Grandpa?"
Brajamusti stepped forward.
But the shadow slowly began to fade.
Before it vanished completely, Paijo's voice sounded once more.
"Don't trust anyone carrying the black dragon emblem."
Brajamusti and Sinta exchanged a glance.
"The black dragon emblem?" Brajamusti asked.
Sinta's expression grew even more serious.
"I know who has one."
"Who?"
Sinta never got the chance to answer.
Footsteps sounded behind them.
They turned around.
A man stood among the mist.
He was the brown-robed man they had seen on the hill.
This time, his face was clearly visible.
He carried no weapon—only an old wooden staff.
"At last, you've found this place," he said.
Brajamusti gripped his flute.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled.
"My name isn't important."
His gaze fell on Brajamusti's flute.
"What's important is that I've come to warn you."
Sinta stepped forward.
"Warn us about what?"
The man looked at her.
"The people hunting you don't merely want to obtain the flute."
He paused for a moment.
"They want to use its power to open something that should remain locked away."
Brajamusti grew even more curious.
"What's locked away?"
The man did not answer.
Instead, he turned and walked into the mist.
"If you want the answer, go to Kota Waringin."
Then his figure disappeared.
Brajamusti looked at Sinta.
"Should we go there?"
Sinta nodded.
"We don't have a choice."
They resumed walking.
In Brajamusti's hand, the Dragon Flute suddenly felt warm.
And far beyond the mist, someone watched them while clutching a black dragon emblem.
Their journey to Kota Waringin had begun.