The light had not been restored to the part of the building they were in yet, but it was plenty bright inside the halls with the moon hanging low from the sky, in perfect view by the window, illuminating every step of the way.
They followed winding corridors and twisting halls, walking together in silence, before finally arriving at the detainment room.
There was no lookout in front of the slightly open door.
Using her chain to push the door ajar, Sariya behind her back while they entered the fishy-smelling room. Buzzing sounds of flies had filled the space with their noise, as it was, covering the window in the form of a pulsing, moving, living flesh curtain.
The other three students were covered with flies, already rotting and withered far longer than they should be; if the dried, mummified hand that had fallen off one of the beds was any indication of foul play happening.
And in the center of it all was a man who had stayed seated in his bed, untouched, an invisible line had been drawn between him and the other side of the room.
On his side, it was quiet, but calm. Bathed in dark shadows where light were void, the kind in which humanity found terror and agony from a brief stare. An abyssal zone where the unthinkable and unexplained took place.
"Was it hard to get our sincere president to evacuate your granddaughter at the first sign of something being amiss?"
A chuckle rang hollow. Dry, tired, but strangely, amused.
"So you realized."
"It wasn’t hard," Sariya replied in a monotone voice, portraying her calm indifference to the situation that was playing at hand. "All of the students were born on the same day with the same blood type, written right there in their medical clip—yours was the only one different. If I have to guess, they also have the same birthdate as your son, down to the hour?"
Sir Jaya nodded, his smile soured by bitter regret and exhaustion, a cough making its way past his dried lips. "They were all of the same build as him. Makes the transplant less likely to be rejected."
"Oh Theseus, how maddening is the legacy you left us with, how horrifying is the way our grief works." Sariya walked over to swat away the flies from the window, the buzzing creatures evading her hands with deft speed, though the swarm remained unprovoking, as if in fear.
"Like the ship, you tried to replace them bit by bit with pieces of your son. But none of them worked, did they? Those vessels could not contain your ambition, and each time, each time you put the ship together, it sank."
"But… it’s not actually for him, isn’t it? No, I think you’re too afraid to use his body first; the material is limited after all. So you experimented."
Sariya closed her eyes briefly, glancing up at the barely visible moon hanging in the sky with forlorn eyes. "You said you buried him, buried him with your own hands, but where was the body of your daughter-in-law?"
"It would have worked!"
Opening the window had done the trick to disperse most of the insects, allowing the full brightness of the moonlight to pierce through the dark room. The barest hint of a crescent it was, but its light reflected in the cloudless, starless night and was strong enough to allow one's eyes to see in the dark.
The line was now drawn into equal halves of the room. A line made out of an outline of shadow and contrast. "It would have worked. I just need more time–"
"What happened to his wife?" Sariya cut him off before he could ramble, spouting her theories with a calm, calculated tone. "Did you lie? Maybe said that there was nothing left of her? Dismemberment was an easy enough task to do while everyone else was still stuck in the chaotic situation, if the wolves had not done it for you already, since all you needed was…"
"I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO!"
"You did what you needed to do to live in a delusion!"
Sariya growled back as her eyes glinted dangerously in the dark, her brows furrowed to the point of meeting with a smouldering, burning rage.
"Your son, your wife, neither of them are going to come back because death is permanent! You have no right–"
She stalked forward and unlatched her backpack to retrieve the book again with one hand, "NO RIGHT, in meddling in the affairs of those who still live because you can’t cope with the ghosts of those who left you behind!!"
The book floated from inside the bag, pages turning open by themselves upon Sariya’s open palm as she voiced her ultimatum, her voice rising with the tide of her wrath.
"What. Did. You. Do?!!!"
Jaya leaped off the bed and ran out of the corridor, passing her by in the process. Tira made a show of trying to catch the man and failing, then waited until she heard the footsteps getting a bit farther away before she chained Sariya by the torso to begin their chase.
Giving a man a false sense of hope was far deadlier than any other poison known to man. It could destroy them completely, and reduce them to the husk of their former selves.
They allowed him to gather his strength, to monologue and to let the old professor have his head start because no matter what, there was no winning over age.
She had to follow him close enough to not lose track of him, but also not be too close as to be able to be seen on his tail.
This was what her role had been before the world had turned on its axis. How fitting that, even now, serving a different master, she would still be fit to be a hunting dog once more.
It was only when they were sure that the man was gunning for the graveyard site that she dug her toes into the earth and sent her chain out like a bolt, air pressure be damned, aimed to spear through his flailing hands to stop him from ever reaching his destination.
"AAARRHH!!!"
He wailed and fell and tried desperately to untangle his arm from the chain, but, as her aim had hit true, it wasn't about to let go without inflicting more pain on himself. Setting down Sariya by her side, she shot her second chain through his other arm, a crooked stake through flesh, effectively pinning him to the cold, hard ground of freshly dug up earth.
They approached at ease as Jaya fought hard for his freedom, but as she had aimed between the gap of his arms, the hook would not rip out his flesh. It was firmly nudged in between the gaps of his bones.
Still, he desperately crawled forward, despite the pulling of the chain to the grave by the pond. In that upturned mass of land that was still wet, still fresh and that grass had yet to take over mounds of earthen clay.
The night was dark, but not blinding. The crescent moon hung peacefully in the sky, shining its light on all that were seeking refuge and peace in its gentle touch. It was enough for her eyes to read the name inscribed on the stone.
Akarna Prasista. Beloved son to his father. A loyal husband. A kind father to his child.
A single name on a single tombstone. Yulia's name was nowhere to be seen.
Jaya wailed at the distance he could not cross, weeping at the chains that had kept him apart from his one and only son. She watched with cold eyes as Sariya walked before him, the book of judgement open in her hand and her eyes glaring down at a sinner.
But before she could utter a single word, a figure stopped her track, hand splayed open in a universal gesture of a shield of protection, unwarranted.
"Move."
Ayunda shook her head in tears, refusing to budge from between them and the man she called her grandfather. "Please… I don’t know what’s wrong, why are you doing this?!"
Tira heard Sariya nearly choke, but sighed instead, seeing her anger deflate in mere seconds as her darkened eyes turned colder instead. "Why don’t you ask your grandpa what he did, hm? Ask him about it."
"Ayunda!"
By the side, the rest of the group had gathered again. Dharma, Henry, and Gunawan were holding back a single man trying his best to get to his friend’s side. "Ayu—Jaya! Jaya! JAYA!!"
"Go on, ask your beloved grandfather, sister." Sariya offered with her other hand, her tone almost mocking how genuine she sounded.
"Grandpa..."
"Ask him about what he did to his wife."
"I KILLED HER!"
The screaming stopped. The pleading stopped. The earth rumbled from the water and blood shed by the man kneeling on the ground. His voice was carried by the still, unforgiving coldness of the cloudless night.
And his sins began to be laid bare.
"I killed her." Repeated the man, his voice hollow, an echo. "I killed her…"
"That’s impossible! You said–" Sir Lucas had stopped his struggle, breathless as he denied the confession, denying it for himself and for his dear friend. "You said she was—that it was the robber's doing!"
"I couldn’t trust her." Jaya futilely grabbed the handful of dirt under him, his defeated figure slumping backward as he glanced at the sky. Black eyes as empty as the expanse of the void he was gazing into, or the reflection of his own heart? "She was beautiful, wasn’t she? So beautiful, my beloved.."
Sir Lucas grimaced as he nodded, finally ceasing to resist while being held in the arms of three young men who had to strain themselves to keep their mouths shut. "Yes, she was. And you won her heart."
"And that’s why I couldn't trust her."
He said with a grin, cupping his dirt-stained hands to his cheek as he maniacally smiled, "She was so beautiful, but it wouldn’t have lasted. She was so beautiful that many had not given up on her even after I had her. I was so jealous! So jealous!! And who was I at the time? Just some nobody poet with a sliver of luck and a bit of a brain."
Laughing and cackling, he gripped his hair to the point of almost tearing his head out. "So I asked her. I asked her if she was mine and mine alone. I ask her every day and–and, her answer was warm, Lucas. Oh, she was so warm and lovely, but soon. Yes, too soon, she had our first son. The flush that she had when she told me she was pregnant broke my heart, because now that love was no longer directed at me."
"I had to get her back! I tried feeding her the red tea and the acidic fruits, but they did not work. No no no, the baby was too strong!!" The broken man pounded his temples with his fist, crying and laughing. The words no longer make sense until the very end. "...Since she loved being a slut so much, I punished her."
"Jaya, what have you done…?" Lucas gasped in horror, before shifting to anger as all he received was laughter.
Mocking, uncaring, desperate. "JAYA—"
"BHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO AYUNDA?!"
His laughter stopped. Abruptly. He glanced at the man who had called himself his friend and asked in a sweet and broken voice. So genuinely confused about the question that he even took the time to reflect that in his tone.
"What do you mean, Lucas? Ayunda is here!"
Those empty eyes shifted to a girl, barely of age, standing still in shock under the light of the celestial body. His hands tried to reach her, but the chain prevented him, pulling out bits and pieces of the flesh as wounds reopened, hanging in the air. "Ayunda is here, see? I’m over here. Why are you so sad, love?"
Her hands cupped her mouth as she sobbed. The girl's face fell between sad and sickened, or perhaps both. The blood had smeared her skin like paint, like a brand, staking his claim over the pure, unsullied concept of love he was presented with.
She said nothing as her feet took a step back.
"AYUNDAAAA!!!"
His scream was animalistic, tugging harder on the chains uselessly, trying to lunge forward but his struggle only bound him further in his constriction.
A hand covered his head from behind. "I command you to be still."
His body stilled. Petrified. Screaming in agony as its agency was taken by force.
"I command you to be silent."
His voice cut off. The tears and blood still flowed down and stained the earth. Forming the pool of his confessions and sins.
"I command you to know your place."
With an invisible impact, his head that had been raised high in defiance was struck down. Leaving an indent in the soft dirt underneath them. Weighed, he couldn't look up, couldn't breathe, and could only drown in a lake of his own blood, piss, and tears as the dry earth suffocated him out of the air that was no longer his to take.
Sariya kept reading in an even voice, the pages flipping furiously as they floated in place, hovering over her small, shivering palms. "At the behest of the power bestowed upon me, I have heard your confession loud and clear."
"Each of your sins were committed on purpose, deep. Each one far heavier than the last, as you had not learned from your mistakes and plunged yourself to the ends of depravity and mania."
Your eyes are blinded by the horror you created, your ears are deafened by the cries of innocents, and your tongue is slimy and slickened with lies you told in the name of self-interest, which may not save your fate."
"Sinner, face the wrath of your judge."
Finally lifting his face again, his eyes blazing with fury and hate towards the figure who had blocked his view of his beloved, she enacted her judgement. "Let me tell you the truth, of which you were misled throughout the years."
"There was a belief in the soul being stored in your head. That is true. But what you did not realize is that in a way to ensure that said soul may escape the confines of the body, it was recommended for one to take away the crown of the deceased, so that it may have a safe passage."
"What are you..."
Sariya narrated a tale, a custom, another one that was buried in the pages of her book and left forgotten through the passage of time, continuing to talk despite Jaya's pleading. "Humans have made up such strange customs, don’t they? It makes you wonder how much else was wrongfully interpreted without the context of the time it was among the living and the thriving."
It was not slow, nor too soon when he realized what she was trying to say. "No, stop—!"
"That by transplanting your wife's crown to her, you have, instead, made sure her soul would remain untethered."
"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"
The regretful, mournful cry that escaped the man’s lips was the last of his will. Tira had let her chains loose when she heard it, because she knew, from experience, that scream was a familiar one of defeat. Even without her meddling, there was no longer a need for him to be bound.
With still eyes as calm as a still lake, Sariya glanced at the girl who had pleaded for the safety of her one and only family member left, the one who had killed everyone else, so he may be the only one to remain, and she looked at that girl with pity. "Did you remember the hymn?"
The call returned her to the present moment, perplexed and terrified. But still, the girl nodded.
"Oftentimes, haunting does not happen only in specific locations, sometimes.. And it was more often than just some times, you carry your ghosts with you." Sariya patted the shivering girl on the shoulder, walking away from the shell of a man she had just deconstructed to his most basic form, a husk. "Give them a proper send-off, all of them."
At last, the final steps were left to the executioner. An unreliable girl, young at the age of sixteen. There was a chance that she would bail, that she would turn away and let that soul who had sheltered her but was now revealed as her tormentor all along, to rot without any chance of salvation.
This time, she stared ahead. This time, the girl did not look away.
"Grandpa." She called out, wiping her tears as she found her voice back, "Grandpa, do you remember? Do you remember? Back then, when papa and mama were out working, and you were babysitting me, yes?"
"Do you remember when I found Grandma’s photo, and you told me stories about her? You said she was the most beautiful, talented, and kindest woman you ever knew, and you loved her so much that you told me that you could see her in me every time I sing." She took a deep breath, wiping away the snot that had blocked her nose haphazardly with her shirt. "I was so proud. So proud that I was named after the most wonderful woman because I could tell that I was loved."
"I could tell that you loved her. And you missed her, dearly." With a shake of the head and a smile, the flower of the school was no more, now blooming as a woman. "You missed her so much that you never looked at me, after that, there was always someone else in your reflection."
She opened her mouth, and an angel sang.
Different from Rizal’s re-enactment, this was a proper hymn, with stable tones and properly enunciated prayers and impactful melodies. The song was cold, sad, biting to the one who heard it– almost as if it could suck the soul right out of their body.
It was the memory infused in those prayers that made it hurt. The love for her father, her mother, for the grandmother she never met but would have loved nonetheless.
And for her grandpa, her beloved grandpa, who was now a dead man walking without a purpose after he killed her.
The songs were designed to weaken the will of the dead, to ask them to let go with the promise they wouldn’t be forgotten. A lovely invitation for death to come and whisk their beloved so that they may join the origin of life once more and rest.
Rest. So time will move for the living.
As she gets to the second verse, continuing where the cut-off recording had left blank, her voice has changed. Deeper, experienced, an older voice was rich with kindness and love that a young girl could not dye with her tone from the lack of time living in this world.
He glanced up, and in front of him was not the figure of his granddaughter. By her side stood his ghost, his beloved, smiling down at him. Beckoning him, to let himself go.
In that moment of clarity, his eyes were no longer clouded, he saw his beautiful little girl and smiled.
Her last note pulled out his last breath, and the sinner died satisfied, redeemed, and in his eyes, she was herself.
Ayunda. Ayunda Putri Prasista. Ayu to her friends and family.
An unfair ending. The book closed another chapter of its collection of stories. Its price already paid with the cost of another life lost and a performance of a lifetime.
Accompanying Sariya to her floor, exhausted as she was, the girl had remained silent the rest of the way back. Although her figure was lagging, with steps taken twice as she was unsure and drained, not once did she complain until they reached the stairs of her apartment. "I hate that this case turned supernatural in the end."
"You hated all cases equally." Tira remarked, pulling the girl onto her back as she climbed up to the fifth floor. She has some energy left; let her spoil her friend a bit after a hard day.
"Yes, but I hate the supernatural more." Sariya yawned mid-answer, fighting back on her drooping eyelids with each sway of their body as Tira took another step up the flights. "It just keeps docking points, at this rate, I might as well throw myself at the police force so I don’t go insane."
"I’ll see what I can do for you about that. We’re here." She dropped the girl at her apartment, returning the backpack plus that cursed book to Sariya as she knocked on the door. "Sleep well."
"Mhm. You too, be careful."
Her mother opened the door and, despite her worry, didn't fuss over her child for coming home at nearly midnight and instead thanked Tira for escorting her all the way home, before finally ushering Sariya inside. The lady did resemble her daughter, in a way that maybe, once her friend grew a little older, they could have passed as sisters from afar.
She walked back to school, holding back a smile at the thought. She entered the corner room alone, burying that moment for herself and herself only. Sparing Dias from the recounting of that private, quiet scene, she relayed the event in its entirety to him, relaying the meaning of the hymn back to him in its fullness, all while fetching away her bathing supplies to the outside.
It was just a feeling. An instinct that told her she would need them at hand.
"I see," he said. Then, "Thank you for telling me, I’m going to retire early."
She didn't ask why he excused himself after that. The anger was practically rolling off his shoulders as he shut the door to his room.
Ensuring the usage of the one-sided lock for the first time and for her to experience a dreamless night. One filled with thoughts constructed of regret, pain and the singing of a young girl maturing too early.
