"Extraordinary," Professor Nyala murmured. "Your grandmother's understanding of Veil mechanics rivals Academy scholarship from that period."
Diagrams of the village showed three distinct points marked with symbols: a stylised flame, a wave, and a mountain. Lines connected these points, forming a triangle that encompassed what was then the village center.
"The ritual of containment," Professor Nyala explained, pointing to a detailed description beside the diagram. "It requires three anchors, each aligned with an elemental domain."
"The same elements we control," Radji observed.
"Yes," Professor Nyala continued, turning the page to reveal more detailed instructions. "Each anchor must be activated by its corresponding element, then linked through a harmonic resonance."
Saguna studied the ritual requirements with growing concern. "This says each participant needs to maintain their position for the duration of the ritual, which could be hours. We'd be vulnerable."
"That's why it requires three," Old Man Reza said. "One person couldn't maintain all three points. The triangle distributes the burden."
As they continued reading, Saguna felt the whispers return, faint but distinct:
Home now, little brother. Close to me. Follow the cold to its heart.
Sahara's voice, clearer than it had been since the banyan tree vision. Saguna's hand went to the back of his neck, feeling the marks burning with renewed intensity.
"What is it?" Osa asked, noticing his reaction.
"The whispers," Saguna replied quietly. "Sahara. She knows we're here."
"And so do they," Old Man Reza said grimly, pointing toward the window.
Outside, in the blue-lit darkness, shapes moved between the buildings, not human shapes, but flowing, undulating masses of deeper shadow. They seemed to be patrolling, searching. Some moved with purpose, others drifted aimlessly. All were heading generally in the direction of Reza's hut.
"Can they sense us?" Radji asked, already calculating escape routes.
"Not specifically," Professor Nyala answered, not looking up from the journal. "But they can sense disturbances in the Veil. Our arrival created ripples."
"My wards will hold," Old Man Reza assured them, though his hand trembled slightly as he drew additional symbols on the windowsill with what looked like sea salt. "They have before."
Saguna moved to the window, standing just to the side to avoid being silhouetted. The shadow entities continued their slow advance, some flowing across rooftops, others oozing between buildings. None had the distinctive form of the Soul Drainer they'd faced at the Academy, but there was something equally unsettling about their amorphous nature.
"They look like... pieces," he observed. "Fragments."
"Lesser shadows," Professor Nyala confirmed, finally looking up from the journal. "Servants, extensions. The breach itself would house the greater entity."
"The Soul Drainer that took Sahara?" Saguna asked.
"Or something it has become," she replied carefully. "Twelve years feeding on a fire-marked individual... it would have grown powerful. Changed."
The implications sent a chill through Saguna. Had Sahara been feeding the same entity for all these years? Was she still trapped with it, sustaining it?
Professor Nyala closed the journal, a new resolve in her eyes. "Elder Reza's grandmother's account gives us something to work with. According to this, the last incursion was sealed through a ritual involving three power points—the eastern shrine, the mixing pool, and the village meeting hall."
"But the meeting hall is gone," Saguna said. "The spire stands where it once was."
"Not exactly," Old Man Reza corrected. "The meeting hall was built next to your family home. When the shadows expanded from the breach point in your house, they consumed the hall first, but they're separate structures."
"The ritual requires three anchoring points that form a triangle around the breach," Professor Nyala explained. "The shrine, the pool, and the meeting hall ruins would serve perfectly."
"Earth, water, fire—each at their corresponding point," Osa said, understanding dawning.
"Exactly," Professor Nyala confirmed. "The Triumvirate is needed because each point requires a specific elemental affinity to activate it."
She carefully laid out three small objects from the journal—a crude drawing of each location, with specific instructions written beneath them. "Each of you will need to prepare your anchor point according to these specifications. Mr. Loma, you'll need to construct a stone circle at the shrine. Mr. Hann, you'll prepare the pool by adding these salts and herbs." She looked at Saguna last. "And you, Mr. Taksa, will need to kindle a special flame at the meeting hall ruins—using this."
She held up a small vial of red powder from between the journal's pages. "Ember dust. It will ignite at your touch, but only if your intention is pure. The flame it produces can burn even in the spirit realm."
Radji was already considering the logistics. "So we split up? Each go to our respective point?"
"Not yet," Professor Nyala cautioned. "First, we study the breach itself. Learn its specific nature. Each incursion is different, shaped by what feeds it and what guards it." She looked at Old Man Reza. "We'll need a safe path to the spire, one that avoids the heaviest concentrations of shadows."
The old man nodded. "There are ways, old tunnels beneath some of the houses, drainage channels that run under the village centre. Many have collapsed over the years, but some should remain passable."
"That's our approach, then," Saguna decided. "Underground, when the sun is highest. We study the breach, learn what we need to perform the ritual, then split to the three points."
"And finally," he added, his voice hardening with determination, "we close the breach — with my sister on this side of it."
Outside, the shadows continued their patrol, ignorant of the plans being made within the warded hut. But as one passed particularly close to the window, it paused, turning what might have been a face toward the dwelling. For a heartbeat, pinpricks of cold light appeared in its formless mass eyes, searching. Then it moved on, rejoining the others in their endless circuit.
The Triumvirate had come to Teluk Jati. The shadows were aware. And somewhere at the heart of the breach, something ancient and hungry waited to see who would make the first move in a game twelve years in the making.