Upon reaching the highest peak, she was already inside the chamber where Sanajayan's Relief of Destiny was kept.
She walked slowly and silently within the circular room surrounded by towering white stone windows. There were no hanging lanterns or other sources of illumination, for the relief itself was capable of absorbing and storing the light of the sun and moon, radiating it back out when night fell.
Her steps paced slowly around the giant relief—a masterpiece carved from brilliant white stone, etched with an architectural beauty that felt impossible for ordinary human hands to create.
She placed her scroll and bag upon the white stone tables scattered around the giant relief, then opened them. Not forgetting, she took out her writing supplies from inside the bag.
Now her face looked back up at the glittering white stone masterpiece, which gleamed like a giant crystal. Every now and then, she wiped her temples.
The relief held wonders in silence. Each of its carvings formed intricate patterns that were hard to explain, depicting various mysterious figures and symbols radiating the aura of ancient secrets. At the highest section, a large prism-shaped crystal stood gracefully like a crown, emitting a soft light that seemed to whisper to the soul.
She lifted her ink pen, while her slightly swollen eyes traced every curve of the relief.
"I will make a copy of it..."
Her gaze fixed on the center of the relief: a large circular arrangement carved with seven circular patterns forming the phases of the moon. Right in the middle of this circle arrangement was sculpted the figure of a person sitting cross-legged. Their hands were raised high, clasping something resembling the form of the Inner Pledge (Batin Pangikrar). Yet, the object was split, and from the gap of its split, a glowing light radiated in all directions.
In that part of the relief was carved Javanese script reading: "CHANDRAKLANA", which means the Crescent Moon Wanderer.
Her gaze lowered. Her eyes stared at the floor, which was clear as a brilliant, unfading star-stone. Briefly, she remembered her duties and the burden of her work.
"One more year..." She raised her gaze back toward the relief.
"My time is up..."
"Yet..."
"Until now, I still have not found..."
Her long yet swollen eyes stared at every stroke of the carving. As if from the depths of her heart, she offered a plea and hope to the relief standing majestically before her.
Her face lowered once more. Now her complexion flushed, her eyes growing wet and shedding tears.
"...even a single sign of how to purify the Inner Pledge."
With closed eyes and a bowed head, she felt the moments of her failure as the Crescent Moon Wanderer. Yet, a gust of wind from the gap of the high window touched the back of her neck, causing the strands of hair on her cheeks to flutter. She realized that time kept moving forward.
Now she looked up, striving to focus on taking notes and sketching a draft of the relief.
She walked slowly, fluttering the fabric of her somewhat tight jarik while stepping steadily to conquer her exhaustion.
Her wide, smooth forehead was outlined by perfectly supple eyebrows. Her eyes, framed by faint dark shadows, still retained their beauty despite being swollen. She lifted her chin slightly, revealing her slender and graceful neck.
She now stared at a section of the relief carved far more intricately than before. The relief depicted scattered stars enveloped in a thin mist, like a mystery shrouding the reality of a destiny. Amidst those stars was carved Javanese script reading: "SAMBEKALA", etched with firm yet cautious strokes. An ancient term that, in the Chronicles of the Past Crescent Moon Wanderers, was interpreted as the Closing Catastrophe.
The brush in her hand trembled, her face still transfixed on that part of the relief. Something unexpected and never desired by all citizens. Yet, she believed it was something that truly had to happen.
Every now and then, she wiped her temples, then slowly began to write and draw lines on the scroll of paper she brought. Her expertise in graphic arts greatly helped her pour those visions onto paper.
Her brow furrowed as she recalled Waluyo Karman's words. "Whether it is in the form of mist or sound waves, the movement pattern of its carvings resembles words spoken from a human mouth," she murmured softly to herself. "As if giving a warning that even a beautiful sky can harbor a threat."
Within her chest, engulfed by fear, she whispered softly, "May this never happen..."
She resumed her slow pace, carrying her bundle of draft scrolls and holding the brush in her right hand. She climbed the white spiral staircase that seamlessly blended with the tall windows surrounding the relief. Her steps spiraled upward while her body was utterly exhausted. Now she stood at a height near the middle section of the relief.
Her swollen eyes gazed at the mesmerizing, brilliant white stone carvings. Their beauty was so extraordinary that it felt impossible to be created by ordinary human hands—an arrangement of sculptures depicting the alternation of day and night. Yet upon closer inspection, the carvings on the white stone formed a sequence of cosmic movements: a solar system, a breathtaking galaxy. Their spheres were regular, their orbital lines precise, as if everything had been calculated with utmost precision. That section was wrapped in a beautifully undulating ribbon, and within that ribbon was carved Javanese script reading: "GRAHANA", which means Darkness But Not Night.
She placed her brush and scrolls to the side, looking wistfully toward that section. "For more than six years, I still don't understand what this pattern means..." She shook her head slowly, then picked up her brush and scrolls once more.
With heavy-feeling eyes, she soliloquized, "Does it mean an eclipse? But what does that have to do with the Crescent Moon Wanderer?"
Her legs trembled as she trod the circular white stone stairs upward to a higher tier, until she reached the section of the relief depicting the shape of a brilliantly shining temple—as if radiating hope amidst the darkness.
Above the temple sculpture, a crescent moon shone in the middle of a dark (yet not night) background. Surrounding the temple symbol lay a panorama between the bright side and the dark side. Sunlight struck her eyes, accentuating the shadow of dark circles around her eyelids. She observed that part of the relief again: amidst the upright, shining temple, there were icons or symbols resembling human figures. Millions of people, or perhaps everyone in the world, seemed to gather facing a high throne carved in front of the temple.
Her head suddenly grew heavy and dizzy, as if she desperately wanted to rest her head. She knew that the symbol of the sea of humanity lay within the realm of Grahana (darkness but not night).
"Indeed, this relief has its own distinct sections, but because all these carvings are interconnected, the pattern of the sea of humanity seems to lie beneath it..."
Suddenly her body lost balance for a moment. "... Yet it feels so orderly."
She forced her eyes to stay open to stare at the sculpture below. Rubbing her temples, she looked at the ribbon-scarf carving bearing the Javanese inscription: "PASANGGRAHAN", which means the Comfortable Abode.
Now she forced her legs to step forward again, rejecting exhaustion. Her heavy steps ascended the spiral staircase, leaving behind a grand question that had yet to find an answer.
Before her now lay the highest section of the relief. She tilted her slender body toward the summit of the relief, whose beauty seemed to be the pinnacle of all the carvings below. This peak relief was sculpted like an eruption bursting from an open dome room.
The carvings at the summit were dominated by winding, branch-like tendrils emerging from a trunk, though too delicate to be called an ordinary tree. Amidst the intricate and beautiful arrangement of carvings, a diamond-prism stone carving was sustained at the center, glowing softly—like a crown for the entire body of the relief.
Her eyelids drooped. Now her half-open eyes stared at the inscription framed within the ribbon—an inscription unlike any other section. The inscription consisted of three words forming a single sentence: "SANGKAN PARANING DUMADI"
"Return to the Origin..." she muttered softly.
Her eyes, nearly closed from heavy fatigue, suddenly flew wide open. Her gaze locked onto the prism stone, hovering and spinning slowly around the curved ring-like carving that flanked the gem.
The prism stone floated calmly within an invisible field. No one knew how the ancestors created a force capable of supporting that stone for thousands of years. That stone was the sole witness carrying the conviction that this relief was the guide to Sanajayan's Path of Destiny.
The strands of hair on her cheeks caressed the wind. She continued to stare at the beauty of the slowly rotating prism stone. As if just by looking at it, a mysterious energy was able to ease the exhaustion and heavy sleepiness torturing her. Each bias of light escaping its surface cleaved the air, presenting a faint rainbow dancing softly around the room.
She lifted her draft paper sheets once more, continuing to record what she witnessed.
Once everything was completed, she rolled up the draft sheets again, then descended the spiral staircase toward the base of the room.
Upon arriving at the ground floor, she retrieved her bag lying beneath the sunlight pouring from the high window gantry. She placed her brush inside, then stepped across the relief area once more.
She walked toward the circular pool where the lotus flower boat had patiently awaited her all this time. In the center of the room, beneath and among the relief pillars soaring like giants, her feet slowly traversed the bridge connecting the room's floor to the pool's edge. Without hesitation, she stepped into the lotus boat.
As soon as her feet planted firmly atop the white petals of the boat, her right hand rose to turn the knob located on the white branching pillar of the relief. The branched carving curved gracefully, as if bowing to present that knob right above her head.
Kreeeekkk... Gluk... gluk... gluk...
Water began to be sucked into the underground drainage. Blukutuk... blukutuk...
A gentle sway was felt on the lotus boat as the water level continued to recede. Srrreeetthhh...
Water continued to vanish from within the cylinder. Along with the receding water, the lotus boat slowly descended as well—as if the entire lake surrounding the City of Wulansana were pulling it back into the depths.
A bluish light shifted slowly behind the transparent stone walls. Sanajayan's Relief of Destiny grew distant high above, piercing the clouds, then replaced by the scenery of white temple rooftops passing one by one behind the cylinder. Tall towers, stone bridges, and magnificent temple domes appeared to move upward from her vantage point, until finally the lotus boat reached the special room inside the palace once again.
Srreeeeethhhh!
The cylinder door opened. Without hesitation, she stepped across the pool bridge.
She rubbed her temples. Seeing that the crescent moon code had returned to its original position, she walked toward the room's gateway and knocked on the door knocker.
The gate slowly opened, revealing two guards standing at attention on either side. Yet, her swollen eyes instantly locked onto someone who had been waiting for her all along—a sturdy man wearing the signature armor of the Alliance. She knew him well; the neatly trimmed black mustache on the man's face could not be mistaken.
From afar, the man's expression signaled anxiety. His gaze was so tense that the woman's brow slowly furrowed as she approached him.
"Crescent Wanderer, there is something you must know immediately!" The man bowed briefly.