The tunnel reeked of damp stone and dust that tasted like old earth. Each step echoed—thud, thud—loud enough to make Lila jump, like the dark itself was listening.
Tan Kai's fist was tight around the jade. Its glow was thin, just enough to paint the next three feet of rock in sickly green. Beside him, Agus moved fast, boots scraping loose gravel like he was in a race with the dark.
"Split up ahead," Agus muttered, eyes fixed on the black. "Left's a trap—soldiers use it to box folks in. Right goes to Lina's storage. We hide there. For a minute."
Bright lagged behind, shoulders slumping. "A minute? My feet feel like they've been kicked by a mule. And if I don't see a mango—a real one, juicy, dripping down my chin—soon, I'm gonna serenade these rocks. They'll probably beg for mercy."
Nam elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Shut it. The judge's horn was closer back there—one word out of you, and we're all venom bait."
Bright zipped his lips, but he still stared at the walls like a mango might sprout through the stone.
Lila clung to Tong's hand, twisting the fire herb Yara gave her until its orange glow flickered. "Grandma said tunnels have spirits," she whispered, voice tiny. "They steal voices. Make you forget how to yell for help."
Tong squeezed her fingers. "I'll yell for both of us. Promise." He brushed a strand of hair off her face—quick, gentle, like he was tucking away a secret.
Yara slowed to walk with them, her own fire herb glowing soft in her palm. "See this? If a spirit even peeks, wave it. Burns 'em like wet leaves. No voice-stealing on my watch."
Lila's fingers stopped shaking. She held the herb up, like it was a tiny sword. "Thanks."
The token in Tan Kai's pocket burst hot—sudden enough to make him yelp. He yanked it out; silver light leaked through his fingers, bright as a shard of moon.
Agus froze. "He's close. Closer than the last horn."
Tan Kai held the token up. Its glow hit Agus's face—scar tight, eyes sharp as flint. "Why's it getting brighter? Does it… know him?"
Agus nodded, jaw tight. "Token was Lina's first. She made it to track corruption. But the judge carries Nagasith's venom—same gunk in the seal. Token's screaming a warning."
The tunnel split. Left was black—no light, no sound, just a void. Right had faint marks: tiny lotuses, carved so shallow they were almost gone, like the rock was forgetting them.
"Lina's work," Agus said, touching one with his thumb. "Carved 'em so I'd find the room. If I ever needed it."
They turned right. The tunnel narrowed—so tight, Bright had to suck in his gut to fit. His shoulders scraped the stone, leaving dusty streaks on his shirt.
"Great," he grumbled. "Now my hair's gonna smell like rock dust. Mangoes hate that more than soldiers. You think a mango'll even look at me now?"
No one laughed. The token pulsed again—hotter, like it was trying to burn through his pocket. Tan Kai stuffed it back, but he could still feel it: a tiny, angry heartbeat.
Yara's fire herb flickered. "Footsteps," she said, voice low. "Behind us. Heavy. Like someone who knows exactly where we are."
Then the horn. Short. Sharp. It echoed off the walls, making Lila whimper and press her face into Tong's arm.
"Storage room's right there," Agus said, pointing to a door cut into the rock. It was hidden by a vine—brown, dry, but clinging on like it was guarding something.
Nam sprinted over, knife flashing. She sliced the vine; it crumbled like paper. The door creaked when she pushed it—slow, loud, like it hadn't moved in years.
"Inside," Agus said. "Move."
They filed in, one by one. Bright went last, still muttering about mangoes, but he didn't drag his feet. When he stepped through, Agus shut the door—soft, like he was closing a book.
The room was tiny—barely big enough for six people to stand. Shelves lined the walls, most empty, but one had a box: carved with lotuses, same as the tunnel. It looked like it had been waiting.
Agus walked to it, fingers brushing the wood like he was touching a friend. "Lina's. Kept her herbs here. And… other things."
Tan Kai stepped closer. The jade glowed brighter, lighting the box. "What other things?"
Before Agus could answer, the token blazed—so hot, Tan Kai dropped it. It spun on the stone floor, silver light flooding the room like water.
"The door," Nam said, voice tight. "I hear him. He's at the door."
Bang.
The wood shuddered. A crack snaked down the middle—thin, but growing.
Agus flipped the box open. Inside: a dried lotus (still soft, like it had been kissed by sun once), and a blue cloth stitched with a lotus. It looked like it had been folded a thousand times.
"That's yours," Agus said, handing it to Tan Kai. His fingers shook. "Lina made it. Before you were born. Said it'd keep you safe. Even when she couldn't."
Tan Kai took it. It was soft, like old linen, and it smelled like earth—like the valley he couldn't remember. He folded it small, tucking it next to the token.
Bang.
The door split wider. Wood splinters flew.
"Judge's venom eats wood," Agus said, grabbing a shelf. "Back exit's behind here. Lila, go first. Then Bright. Then Nam. Yara, Tan Kai—you next. I'll hold him."
Lila shook her head, eyes wet. "No. He'll hurt you."
Agus smiled—sad, but steady. "Five hundred years running. Time to stand. Go."
The door burst. Wood flew across the room.
There he was. Tall, black robe stitched with silver symbols that glinted like venom. His face was in shadow, but his sword—oh, his sword—glistened, like it was coated in something sticky and dark.
"The judge," Yara breathed.
He stepped in, boots thudding. His eyes locked on Tan Kai—on the jade. "Give me the jade," he said, voice cold as stone. "And the girl. The rest go free."
Tan Kai stepped forward. The jade's glow swelled, pushing back the judge's shadow like a wave. "No. You don't take anyone."
Agus laughed—short, sharp, proud. "That's my son."
The judge's jaw tightened. He lifted the sword. "Last chance."
Nam's hand moved fast. She tossed fire herbs at his feet—they exploded into orange flame, sharp smoke stinging the air. The judge jumped back, robe catching a spark.
"Go!" Nam yelled.
Lila scrambled through the hole first, Tong shoving her gently. He followed, then Bright—grumbling, but fast, like he was scared the fire would singe his hair. Nam waited, tossing another handful of herbs.
"Yara! Tan Kai!" she shouted.
Yara climbed through. Tan Kai hesitated, staring at Agus.
"Find the valley," Agus said. "Finish what we started."
The judge swatted the fire out. He lunged—sword aimed at Agus's chest. Agus dodged, heaving the shelf like it was a stick, slamming it into the judge's ribs. The shelf broke; wood flew.
Tan Kai climbed through. He turned, just in time to see the sword slice Agus's arm. Agus yelled, but he grabbed the judge's wrist, slamming it into the wall.
"Close the hole!" Agus roared.
Nam grabbed a rock—big, rough—and jammed it into the hole. It fit, tight. The judge's voice boomed through it—angry, loud, like a storm.
Tan Kai's chest hurt. He pressed his hand to the rock, like he could reach through to Agus.
Yara put her hand on his shoulder. "He's buying us time. We have to move."
Bright stood up, brushing dust off his pants. He looked at Tan Kai—at his wet eyes—and sighed. "Hey. Your dad's tough. Tougher than a mango pit. When we find the valley? I'll share my first mango with him. The juiciest one. Promise."
Tan Kai smiled, even though his throat felt tight. "Thanks."
Agus's voice came through the rock, faint but clear. "Follow the lotuses! They lead home!"
Then the judge's horn blew—loud, close. The rock vibrated under Tan Kai's hand.
Tong pulled Lila to her feet. "Run. Now."
They walked. The path was dark, but every few feet, a lotus carving glowed—Lina's mark, lit by the jade. One by one, like stars guiding them.
The token in Tan Kai's pocket pulsed. Soft now. Warm. Like a heartbeat tucked next to Lina's cloth.
Yara squeezed his hand. "We'll find him. And we'll finish it. Together."
Tan Kai nodded. He looked ahead—at the next lotus, at the dark beyond it.
Yeah. Together.