The stone existed. But it did not speak.
In the center of the Carving Garden, a stone from an unknown region stood still. It didn't tremble. It didn't glow. It released no echo. The Satria tried to touch it. But there was no resonance. No feeling.
Yohwa approached. He closed his eyes. He opened his wounds. But the stone remained silent.
Rava tried to align its frequency. She cried before it. But the stone did not respond.
Numa recorded: "This stone doesn't lack echo. It refuses to speak."
Raka stood beside it. "Maybe it once spoke," he said. "But it wasn't heard. And now it chooses silence."
In the village, children began drawing the stone. But they drew it without carvings. Just shape. No sound.
Lonto from Sulawesi said, "Some wounds don't want to be opened. Some echoes choose quiet."
Yohwa sat before the stone for three days. He didn't speak. He didn't ask. He simply stayed.
And on the third night, the stone trembled. Gently. It didn't glow. But one carving appeared not a symbol, not a word. Just a broken line. Like a fracture that didn't want to be explained.
Rava recorded: "This stone doesn't refuse out of anger. It refuses out of exhaustion."
The Soul Eclipse approached. But it didn't absorb. It simply stood beside the stone. And for the first time, it wasn't a threat. It became a guardian of silence.
Yohwa touched the stone. He didn't ask for echo. He simply said, "We will not force you."
And the stone, for the first time, released an echo. Not from the past. Not from the future. An echo from a feeling that had no name.