Raka and Kiai Jaffar recoiled in disgust as a foul stench wafted from the golden chest. The smell was overpowering — a sickening mix of ammonia, rot, sweat, bodily fluids, and dried blood.
Inside the chest lay a pile of dirty underwear belonging to both Raka and Laras. Some were still damp with thick, white seminal fluid from recent intercourse. Others, particularly Laras's panties, were heavily stained with blackened, dried menstrual blood on both the front and back.
Raka slammed the lid shut immediately, his face pale with revulsion.
"When were these taken? There's no way Laras did this herself," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, his voice thick with rage and disgust.
Kiai Jaffar remained calm, though his expression was grim. He stroked his beard slowly before replying.
"This is extremely dirty black magic — a binding spell of the lowest kind, Raka. Jinn like Zahir often steal their victim's most intimate possessions. The dirtier and more personal the item, the stronger the hold. Laras's menstrual blood… that is the most dangerous. Blood is life itself. With it, Zahir can control her anytime he wants — even from the jinn realm."
Raka clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"So all this time… he's been secretly collecting our things?"
"Yes," the Kiai replied quietly. "Judging by the amount here, he has been planning this for a long time. Even before Laras fully fell into his arms."
Suddenly, the golden chest began to shake on its own. Thin black smoke seeped out from the cracks, carrying an even worse stench. A faint hissing sound could be heard from within, as if something alive was still inside.
Kiai Jaffar stepped back and raised his hand.
"A'udzubillahi minasy syaithanir rajim! Raka, get kerosene or gasoline. We're burning this chest right now. We cannot let these filthy objects remain in your house."
"I'll burn it in the backyard, Kiai," Raka said. He lifted the chest and carried it outside. He then ran to the terrace, siphoned gasoline from his motorcycle, and returned with a bottle of kerosene. Meanwhile, Kiai Jaffar continued reciting rukyah verses nonstop in front of the chest.
Raka poured the kerosene over it and set it ablaze. A woman's piercing scream erupted from inside — a voice that sounded disturbingly like Laras's.
"NO!!! THOSE ARE MINE!!! LARAS IS MINE!!!"
As the flames roared higher, the voice shifted into Zahir's — filled with fury and desperation.
Kiai Jaffar didn't flinch. He raised his voice even louder, reciting powerfully:
"Bismillahirrahmanirrahim! With the fire of this world, I burn every spell, every curse, and every filthy object connecting that cursed creature to Laras! May the flames of Hell consume you, rebellious jinn!"
The golden chest burned ferociously. Blue-green flames shot high into the air. The stench of burning flesh and rotten fluids filled the backyard. The pile of underwear inside crackled and writhed as if in agony.
Inside the house, Laras suddenly screamed in pain. The fine hairs covering her body trembled violently. She thrashed on the sofa, clawing desperately at her own skin.
"Aaaahhh!!! It's burning! It's so hot!!!"
The santri immediately surrounded her and intensified their recitation.
Raka rushed inside to his wife, his face filled with worry.
"Laras! Darling, hold on! They're burning it right now. This is the final bond-breaking process!"
The fire in the backyard blazed even stronger. Zahir's screams grew weaker, mixing with roars of helpless rage.
"LARAS!!! I WILL RETURN!!! I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO!!!"
With a small explosion, the golden chest shattered into pieces. The flames gradually died down on their own, leaving only foul-smelling black ash behind.
Kiai Jaffar wiped the sweat from his forehead and let out a long breath.
"InsyaAllah… most of the bonds have been severed."
He walked over to Raka, who was tightly embracing Laras.
"InsyaAllah, the child born of two worlds has also been destroyed with it. Tonight, Laras needs rest."
Laras, still weak, could only cry softly in her husband's arms. The fine hairs on her body slowly began to fall out, though not all of them were gone yet.
Raka kissed her forehead with a mixture of deep affection and restrained anger.
"I won't let him take you again, darling. Never again."
---
The fire in the backyard finally died out completely, leaving only charred black ash that reeked of something foul. Kiai Jaffar wiped his forehead and repeatedly gave thanks to Allah.
Inside the house, Laras had grown calmer. The strange hairs on her body had stopped growing and were slowly shedding. Her face was still pale, but her breathing was much steadier.
Kiai Jaffar turned to his santri, who had remained faithfully surrounding Laras.
"Alhamdulillah, we have fought with all our strength tonight. You may all return to the pesantren now. Rest. We will continue after Subuh prayer tomorrow morning."
The santri nodded obediently. One by one, they shook hands with Kiai Jaffar and Raka, then took their leave. The sound of their motorcycles gradually faded into the night, leaving the house in silence once more.
After the santri had gone, Raka picked up his phone and called his mother.
"Mom, please come over. Laras… she's not doing well. She needs you," Raka said, his voice tired but relieved.
Less than half an hour later, Bu Restu arrived in a hurry. The middle-aged woman immediately pulled Laras into her arms.
"Ya Allah, what happened to you, dear? I'm here now… I'll stay with you," Bu Restu said gently, stroking her daughter-in-law's hair. Her eyes glistened with tears at the sight of Laras's pale, exhausted face.
"Thank you, Mom," Raka said softly. "Tonight, Kiai and I still need to keep watch."
Bu Restu nodded firmly. "I'll take care of Laras all night. You two focus on what you need to do."
Kiai Jaffar and Raka then sat in the messy living room. They opened their Qur'ans under the dim glow of a small table lamp.
Throughout the night, the beautiful sound of Quranic recitation filled the house with solemn tranquility. Together, they recited Surah Al-Baqarah and Yasin, followed by Ayatul Kursi and Surah An-Nas.
Occasionally they paused, and Kiai Jaffar would offer heartfelt supplications.
"Ya Allah, protect Your servant Laras from every disturbance of jinn and devils. Sever all remaining bonds. Make this house a strong fortress for this family!"
Raka would amen each prayer while occasionally glancing toward the sofa where Laras lay beside his mother. Bu Restu gently wiped Laras's forehead and helped her sip zamzam water that had been blessed with prayers.
At three in the morning, Laras grew restless in her sleep. She mumbled softly, calling out Zahir's name. Raka tensed immediately, but Kiai Jaffar simply shook his head and recited Surah Al-Jinn even louder.
"Don't worry. That's the final reaction of the breaking bond. Keep reciting," the Kiai said calmly.
Raka nodded and returned to his recitation with renewed focus. Their voices grew steadier and stronger, like an invisible shield protecting the entire house.
Outside, the night wind blew cold. Occasionally, strange rustling sounds could be heard, but every time they appeared, the Quranic recitation intensified — and the noises would vanish.
High up in the mango tree, a shadowy figure sat swinging on a branch. Down below, Laras, still asleep, let out a faint hiss.