The stone was beatiful. But the echo it released.... wasn't true.
At the edge of the Carving Garden, A stone began to glow. its carvings were perfect. Symmetrical. The echo it released was full of hope, praise, and promises. Children smiled. The satria felt peace. But Yohwa sensed something was wrong.
"This echo is too polished," he said. "Too eager to be loved."
Rava touched the stone. She felt warmth. But no wounds. No doubt. "This isn't an echo," she said. "It's a narrative."
Numa tried reading its frequency. The pattern wasn't random. It was arranged. "This stone doesn't emit feeling," he said. "It emits a story people want to believe."
Raka stood beside it. "In the future, many echoes are crafted to soothe—not to awaken."
Lonto from Sulawesi asked, "Is this stone lying?"
Yohwa looked into the stone. He saw himself as a hero. A savior. A light that never dimmed. But he knew… that wasn't him.
In the village, children began dreaming of perfect versions of themselves. Never failing. Never afraid. But they woke feeling hollow.
Rava recorded: "This stone doesn't hide wounds. It erases them."
The Soul Eclipse approached. It tried to absorb the echo. But couldn't swallow it all. Because the echo wasn't feeling. It was illusion.
Yohwa stood before the stone. He said, "We don't need echoes that comfort us. We need echoes that make us honest."
And the stone cracked. Its carvings shattered. The final echo it released was a cry not from the past, not from the future, but from a feeling that had never been given space to be true.