Night had deepened when the atmosphere in Kota Waringin suddenly grew tense.
Brajamusti, Sinta, and Wira Gantang were inside an inn room that had been left in disarray by the earlier fight.
Brajamusti was still eyeing Wira suspiciously.
“If you really are one of the guardians of the Dragon Flute, why have you only appeared now?”
Wira gave a faint smile.
“Because I’ve been waiting for the right person all this time.”
“The right person?”
“You.”
Brajamusti fell silent.
Wira then explained that the Dragon Flute could not be used by just anyone. The sacred artifact would reveal its power only to someone with an unwavering heart who was not ruled by greed.
Sinta looked at Brajamusti.
“So Grandpa Paijo had already chosen him from the beginning.”
Wira nodded.
“Paijo knew the time had come.”
Brajamusti tightened his grip on the flute.
“Then why are so many people hunting me?”
“Because someone wants to use the flute to open the Arwana Gate.”
“What gate?”
Wira did not answer right away.
“It isn’t a place that should be opened.”
Sinta grew even more serious.
“What will happen if the gate opens?”
Wira looked at both of them.
“Everything that has been imprisoned behind it will be set free.”
Brajamusti frowned.
Before he could ask anything else, the sound of bells rang out from beyond the city.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Wira immediately stood up.
“They’re here.”
“From where?” Brajamusti asked.
“Every direction.”
They left the inn.
Dozens of black-clad figures already filled the main road. A black dragon emblem was clearly visible on each of their chests.
Their leader raised a hand.
“Hand over Brajamusti, and we won’t destroy the city.”
Wira smiled coldly.
“Don’t believe their threats.”
Brajamusti stepped forward.
“I will never surrender.”
The battle erupted once more.
Sinta guarded the right flank, Wira faced the strongest warriors, and Brajamusti struggled to hold back the waves of enemies that kept pouring in.
As their numbers continued to grow, Brajamusti blew the Dragon Flute.
A powerful gust swept across the road.
The attackers were sent tumbling.
But this time, the flute suddenly gave off a faint cracking sound.
Brajamusti was startled.
Wira shouted at once.
“Stop playing it!”
Brajamusti stopped blowing.
“What’s wrong?”
“The flute isn’t ready to contain that much power.”
Brajamusti looked down at his flute.
A small crack had appeared in one of its carvings.
Sinta hurried over.
“We have to go.”
The three of them left Kota Waringin by the back road.
After they had gone far enough, Wira stopped.
“From now on, we can’t travel along ordinary roads.”
Brajamusti looked at him.
“Where are we going?”
Wira pointed toward the mountains in the distance.
“To Arwana Valley.”
Sinta fell silent.
“That place?”
Wira nodded.
“That’s where we’ll find the answers about Grandpa Paijo and the Dragon Flute.”
Brajamusti stared at the flute in his hand.
He was becoming increasingly aware that it was more than just a sacred artifact.
A great secret had been hidden from him all this time.
And the journey to Arwana Valley might reveal everything.
But before they could continue, someone’s shout rang out from the distance.
“Brajamusti!”
The three of them turned.
A wounded man was running toward them.
He collapsed right in front of Brajamusti.
Gasping for breath, the man could manage only one sentence.
“Grandpa Paijo... has been captured.”
Brajamusti froze.