The sound of that little child's voice made Raka's blood run cold.
“Brother Raka... I'm still here too.”
The voice sounded very close, as if it were coming from right behind him. But when he turned, there was only fog and the shadows of trees.
Sari gripped Raka's arm tightly.
“Did you hear that?”
Raka nodded slowly.
Mbah Wiryo, on the other hand, closed his eyes and drew a long breath, as if he were hearing something he had feared for a very long time.
“Don't answer,” he said softly.
“But it's a child...”
“Precisely because of that.”
The faceless woman in front of the gate gave a quiet laugh. Her voice now sounded like many children speaking at once.
“He's always been curious.”
Raka stared at the narrow path leading into the forest. The greenish light in the distance pulsed slowly, like the heart of a giant living in the middle of the forest.
Bayu was still standing there, his face growing more indistinct behind the fog.
“Mas... hurry...”
The little child's voice came again, this time from the opposite direction.
“Brother Raka... don't leave me again...”
The word again made Raka's chest tighten with an unfamiliar feeling he couldn't explain. A vague image surfaced in his mind—a dark room, a baby's cries, and his mother weeping softly.
He pressed a hand to his temple.
“I... I've heard that voice before.”
Mbah Wiryo gave him a sharp look.
“What do you remember?”
“Only... a baby's crying.”
The old man's face grew even paler.
The faceless woman whispered, “It's starting to open.”
Suddenly, the black root bracelet around Raka's wrist throbbed with heat. A split second later, a flash of memory slammed into his mind.
He saw his mother sitting on the floor of their house, clutching her bloodstained belly.
His father stood in front of the door, his face shattered.
And an old shaman said:
“One has already been taken. The next one will wait.”
Raka stumbled backward.
“That wasn't my memory...”
“That is a locked memory,” Mbah Wiryo replied quietly.
Sari stared at them in confusion. “What does that mean?”
The old man was silent for a long time before finally speaking.
“Before Raka was born, his mother was pregnant with another child.”
Raka froze.
“What?”
“She miscarried at seven months.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“Your father and mother never told you because they wanted to forget.”
The little child's voice came again, now right beside Raka's ear.
“I was never given a name...”
Raka spun around.
The fog beside the gate coalesced into the small figure of a five-year-old child. His body was faint, like smoke, but his eyes were pitch-black, without a trace of white.
Sari let out a strangled scream.
The child stared at Raka.
“Do you remember me, Brother?”
Raka couldn't answer.
A sudden, overwhelming sadness rose inside him, as if he had lost someone he should have loved dearly.
The faceless woman said softly, “One who is given no name will remain between memory and forgetting.”
The child stepped closer. Every step left behind a pool of black water.
“Father said I had to wait...”
Mbah Wiryo immediately sprinkled salt in front of Raka.
The child stopped.
His face turned sullen.
“Grandpa's mean.”
“Go,” Mbah Wiryo said firmly.
The child looked at Raka again.
“Do you want to forget me too, Brother?”
The question cut deeper than any threat.
Raka felt his eyes grow hot.
“I... I don't know who you are.”
The child smiled sadly.
“That's what hurts the most.”
The fog around him began to swirl. His small body started to fade.
Before disappearing completely, he whispered:
“If Bayu goes too deep, his face will disappear too.”
A split second later, the figure vanished.
The forest fell silent again.
The faceless woman tilted her head.
“Now you know. Your family has owed me a debt for a very long time.”
Raka clenched his fists.
“Who are you, really?”
The fog around the gate moved like hair floating in water.
“I am the guardian forgotten by her own name.”
“Why did you take Bayu?”
“Because the agreement isn't finished.”
Mbah Wiryo stepped forward, the teplok lamp in his hand burning brighter.
“Enough, Nyai.”
For the first time, the woman fell silent.
Nyai.
The name made the air feel heavier.
Mbah Wiryo looked at Raka.
“Listen carefully. There are three circles inside the Forest of Lost Souls. Bayu is in the second circle. If he reaches the third circle before dawn, he will become part of the forest.”
Raka swallowed.
“How do we get him out?”
“By making him remember who he is.”
“Then why don't we do it now?”
Mbah Wiryo looked at the open gate.
“Because from this point on, the forest will try to make you forget first.”
Suddenly, Bayu lifted his head.
His eyes, which had been empty moments ago, were now filled with fear.
“Mas... don't let her call my name!”
The faceless woman slowly leaned toward Bayu's ear.
And in a very gentle voice, almost like a mother singing her child to sleep, she whispered:
“Bayu...”
Bayu screamed.
His face instantly trembled like a reflection on the surface of water.
His eyes, nose, and mouth began to blur.
“MAS!” he shouted in panic.
Raka couldn't take it anymore.
He broke through the circle of salt and ran toward the gate.
Mbah Wiryo shouted behind him:
“Raka, don't go in alone!”
But Raka's steps had already carried him across the threshold of the Forest of Lost Souls.
And as his foot touched the ground inside the forest, the wooden gate behind him slammed shut on its own with a thunderous crash.
BANG!
Darkness swallowed everything at once.
Including Sari's and Mbah Wiryo's voices.