The tunnel air changed first—still damp, but warmer now, carrying the scent of moss and unopened lotus buds instead of dust. Tan Kai's jade glowed brighter, casting green streaks over rocks that now had soft moss clinging to their sides, like the stone itself was waking up.
"Hey," Bright said, perking up a little. "This smells less like rock and more like… well, not mangoes. But better than rock." He sniffed again, then groaned. "Still not mangoes, though. Figures."
Lila walked beside Tong, her fire herb flickering in her hand. The tiny orange light bounced off the moss, making little spots dance on the walls. "The lotus marks are clearer now," she said, pointing to a carving. It was deeper than the ones back in the narrow tunnel—like Lina had taken her time, making sure it wouldn't fade.
Tong nodded, brushing moss off the mark. "She wanted us to find this. For sure."
Yara walked next to Tan Kai, her shoulder occasionally bumping his. "You okay?" she whispered. Her eyes flicked to his pocket—where the token and Lina's cloth were tucked. "Thinking about Agus?"
Tan Kai nodded. He pulled the blue cloth out for a second, running his finger over the stitched lotus. It still smelled like earth, like something that belonged to the valley. "What if he doesn't…?" He couldn't finish the sentence, the word "survive" sticking in his throat.
Yara put her hand on his arm. "He will. He's fought for five hundred years—he's not gonna stop now."
The tunnel dipped suddenly, and water sloshed under their feet. Bright yelped, jumping back. "Whoa—puddles? Great. Now my shoes are wet. Mangoes definitely hate wet shoes."
Nam knelt down, touching the water with her finger. "It's fresh. Not stagnant. Means we're close to the surface—maybe even the valley."
The token in Tan Kai's pocket pulsed—soft, not hot. Like it was nodding along with Nam. He smiled a little. "Lina's cloth too," he said. "It feels… warmer. Like it knows we're near."
They waded through the puddle—cold, but not freezing. Bright complained the whole time, but he didn't slow down. When they reached the other side, the tunnel opened up—wide, with a ceiling so high Tan Kai's jade couldn't reach it.
And there was light. Faint, greenish, coming from the far end.
"Is that…?" Lila started, her voice quiet with hope.
Agus's voice suddenly echoed, faint but clear, like it was carried on the warm air. "Follow the light! It leads to the valley!"
Tan Kai's head snapped up. "Agus?" He called back, but there was no answer—only the distant drip of water and the sound of their own breathing.
"He's still alive," Yara said, squeezing his hand. "He's guiding us."
They walked toward the light. As they got closer, the air smelled stronger—lotus, wet earth, even a hint of wild berries. Bright's nose twitched. "Berries?" He sped up, hope flickering again, pushing past Tong. "Not mangoes, but maybe close enough."
The light came from a small cave—hidden behind a curtain of hanging moss. Nam pulled the moss aside, and they stepped in.
The cave was small, but cozy. The walls were lined with clay pots—some broken, some still intact. On a stone shelf, there was a wooden box, just like the one in Lina's storage room. And in the corner, there was a patch of small white flowers—lotus sprouts, pushing up through the moss like tiny green stars.
"Lina's garden," Agus had said once. Tan Kai's chest felt tight, like he was finally stepping into a memory he'd never had.
Bright ran to the berries—growing on a vine that curled around a pot. He popped one in his mouth, then made a face. "Not exactly sweet, but better than nothing." He picked a handful anyway, shoving them into his pocket.
Nam walked to the clay pots, running her finger over one. "These are old. But some still have seeds in them—lotus seeds, I think." She pulled one pot down, and sure enough, there were small brown seeds at the bottom, hard and smooth.
Lila knelt by the lotus sprouts, touching one gently. "They're so small," she said. "Like they're scared to grow."
Tong knelt beside her. "They're not scared. They're waiting. For the right time."
Tan Kai walked to the wooden box. He opened it slowly—inside, there was a map, drawn on old paper that crinkled when he touched it. It showed the tunnel, the cave, and then a valley—marked with a big lotus. Next to the valley, there was a note, written in faint, curly ink that looked like lotus vines:
For whoever finds this—keep the seeds. The valley needs them. Keep each other. We'll meet there.
It was Lina's handwriting. Tan Kai folded the map carefully, tucking it into his pocket with the cloth.
The token pulsed again—this time, a little hotter, like it was warning.
"Judge," Yara said, her voice tight. She pulled her fire herb out, and its light flared brighter, casting sharp shadows. "I hear him. Footsteps. Coming down the tunnel."
Bright froze, the last berry halfway to his mouth. "Serious? Can't we just… breathe for five minutes?"
Nam grabbed the pot of lotus seeds, shoving it into her bag. "We need to go. The map says the valley's through that door." She pointed to a stone door in the back of the cave—carved with a huge lotus, its petals spread wide like it was waiting to bloom.
Tong walked to the door, pushing it. It didn't move. "Stuck," he said, grunting as he pushed harder, his arms tensing.
Lila stepped forward, touching the lotus carving. "Grandma said lotus doors open with… light from the heart." She looked at Tan Kai. "Your jade. And your power."
Tan Kai nodded. He walked to the door, holding up the jade. He closed his eyes, focusing on the lotus energy inside him—warm, like sunlight through leaves. He pushed it into the jade, and the jade's glow exploded—bright green, lighting up the whole cave.
The carved lotus flared alive, its petals glowing in rhythm with the jade's heartbeat. There was a soft click, and the door creaked open, slow and quiet, like it was happy to finally move.
Outside, the air tasted sweet—lotus, grass, and the faint whisper of running water. And there it was: the valley.
It was smaller than Tan Kai had imagined—green, with a small lake in the middle, its surface dotted with wilted lotus leaves, brown at the edges. Trees grew around the lake, and there were small huts, half-hidden by vines that looked tired.
"The corruption," Yara said, her voice quiet. "It's here. Even in the valley."
The judge's horn shattered the still air—an echo of steel and venom. Shadows rippled along the tunnel walls, racing toward them.
Tan Kai grabbed the pot of seeds from Nam's bag. He ran outside, toward the lake. Yara followed, then Lila and Tong. Bright hesitated, then ran after them, his handful of berries forgotten.
The lake water was cool, slipping over his shoes as he knelt down. Tan Kai dropped the seeds into the water. He held up the jade, pushing his lotus energy into it—harder, this time, like he was pouring all his hope into the light. The jade glowed, and the seeds started to glow too—soft green, like tiny stars sinking into the lake.
They sank, and within seconds, small green shoots pushed up through the water, fast and bright.
The judge appeared at the cave mouth, his robe muddy, his sword glistening with venom. His arm was cut—from Agus's shelf, Tan Kai realized—and he snarled, stepping forward.
"You can't stop it," the judge said, his voice cold as stone. "The corruption will spread. The valley will die."
Tan Kai握紧 the jade until his knuckles hurt. The lotus shoots in the lake grew faster, their leaves unfurling wide, pushing back the brown wilt. "No," he said. "We're not letting that happen. Not anymore."
Yara stepped beside him, her fire herb glowing so bright it lit up her face. Nam and Tong stood behind them, Lila between them, her small hands tight on Tong's arm. Bright stood next to Lila, his shoulders squared—no more jokes, just quiet resolve.
The judge lifted his sword, venom dripping from the blade.
But then, the lotuses in the lake bloomed—bright pink, their petals opening wide, releasing a wave of green light that washed over the valley. The light hit the judge, and he yelled, stepping back, his sword clattering to the ground.
He turned, running back into the tunnel. Gone.
For a second, no one spoke. Then Lila laughed—soft, happy, like a weight had lifted. "They grew," she said. "The lotuses grew."
Bright looked at the lake, then at his pocket of berries. He tossed them into the water, where they floated near a lotus leaf. "There. Even the flowers deserve something sweet."
Tan Kai pulled the blue cloth out of his pocket. He held it up, and the wind carried it toward the lake—light, like a feather. It landed on a lotus leaf, floating gently.
"We'll find him," he said, looking at his friends. "Agus. We'll bring him home."
Yara nodded. "Together."
The valley was quiet now. The lotuses bloomed, the lake glistened, and the air smelled like hope—warm, sweet, and alive.
And deep within the tunnel, where echoes never truly die, Agus's voice lingered—soft, steady. "Home."