Felicia stepped forward half a pace, offering a polite nod. Her smile was soft, but her eyes gleamed like hidden blades. Every move was measured, her stance quietly ready.
"And these are Ethan and Radit," Kaivan continued.
Ethan gave a short nod, eyes sweeping the surroundings. Radit looked relaxed, though his fingers fidgeted subtly, his body language whispering readiness.
"Psst, so Kaivan and Felicia are engaged?" Ethan murmured under his breath.
Radit half-covered his mouth. "News to me, man…"
They didn't realize, it was only a façade. A ploy.
Raphael's gaze lingered on each of them, piercing and deliberate. He paused on Ethan, then on Radit, curious, yet inscrutable.
"Friends, huh?" he muttered. His arms crossed, his head dipping slightly. "This path isn't for everyone. Only those who truly understand."
Kaivan didn't flinch. His eyes locked with Raphael's, his voice calm and firm. "We're ready. We seek the truth of life."
The morning breeze brushed through his hair. Tension thickened the air. Felicia inched closer, aligning her stance, her weight shifting subtly. One wrong move, and she'd strike.
Finally, Raphael stood, adjusting his worn robe. "Very well," he said, voice low but with a faint undercurrent. "Follow me. You'll meet the others."
They followed a narrow path that grew quieter with every step. The light dimmed beneath the thick canopy, and the once warm park turned into a maze of shadows. Felicia walked just behind Kaivan, her eyes scanning every corner. Ethan and Radit trailed close, their steps light but tense.
Raphael led them without hesitation. His posture was firm, his stride steady, as if guiding them not just toward a place, but toward the edge between faith and ruin.
The old building loomed ahead, its walls covered in moss, its cracked windows veiled in age. The door creaked under Raphael's touch, the sound slicing through the silence like a quiet warning: a line had just been crossed.
"Same place as yesterday," Radit whispered to Ethan.
Ethan only nodded, his face drawn tight. They stepped inside. Damp air clung to their skin; the stench of rotting wood and dust filled their lungs. An oil lamp hung from the ceiling, its trembling flame painting the room in flickering gold and shadow. The silence was heavy, alive, somehow.
A group of men sat cross-legged on a worn carpet, dressed in plain white tunics. Some looked calm, others wary. When Kaivan and the others entered, tension rippled through the air.
Raphael moved to the center. "New recruits. They came to learn our teachings. Welcome them as brothers."
No one spoke. The flame flickered, and the shadows seemed to lean in, studying every move.
From the far corner, an old man with a white beard stared sharply. His voice was deep, steady. "Are you truly prepared? This path is not for those who hesitate."
Kaivan stepped forward, meeting his gaze. "We are," he said firmly. "We came to understand, not to watch from the outside."
The old man's eyes searched his face, probing, measuring. Silence followed. Then, a slow nod, like a silent verdict. "This road is steep. There is no room for doubt."
Felicia gently touched Kaivan's back, her silent way of saying I'm here. Ethan and Radit exchanged a look; their wariness didn't fade, but conviction had begun to take root.
In the thick silence, Kaivan drew out the Tome of Omnicent. A soft glow spread from its pages, painting the cracked walls and faces around them in pale light. The ink moved like liquid stars, whispering in forgotten tongues.
Felicia leaned closer. "What do you see?"
Kaivan read for a moment, then closed the book carefully. "I'll explain later," he murmured, eyes distant, already haunted by what he saw.
He signaled Ethan and Radit with a subtle tilt of his head, enough to say stay alert. They nodded, understanding without words.
Kaivan tucked the Tome back into his jacket. But before they could move, a man with sharp eyes and a blank face called out, "You. Follow me."
The iron door groaned open, the sound heavy as grief. Beyond it stretched a narrow corridor, dimly lit by flickering bulbs. The air was thick and damp. Kaivan stepped forward first, silent but steady. Felicia, Ethan, and Radit followed. Their footsteps echoed, a quiet drumbeat of defiance.
"Your bags," barked a guard built like a wall, his voice as cold as the steel door. His eyes were knives.
With no choice, they handed everything over. When Kaivan let go of the bag carrying the Tome, it felt like giving up a part of himself.
Radit leaned in, whispering, "The Tome, "
Kaivan replied softly, "I know where it is. Wait for the right moment."
A voice called from deeper inside. They were told to follow. Their steps traced a path through a stone hallway that swallowed sound. The walls felt alive, watching. The people they passed didn't just look, they judged.
At the end was a wide room. Rows of old chairs lined the walls, and the members of the organization stood in a circle, enclosing them. A man in his forties, his face carved from stone, stepped forward.
"State your names. Your origin. And your purpose."
Kaivan stood tall. His gaze didn't waver. "Kaivan, from Bandung. I seek understanding, a truth the ordinary world cannot give."