In the end, as time continued to flow in the stillness of the ancestral temple, Baskara began to realize something deeper than just the fractured strength of his soul. He gradually understood that the four souls were not merely extensions of his consciousness, but bridges—gateways to something far more fundamental: fitrah.
Fitrah was not merely an innate trait or mere instinct. In his long meditation, Baskara saw fitrah as a sacred core connecting him to the universe. It was not just a part of the soul, but something deeper—fitrah was the original seed, the eternal source of light, the place from which one's intentions and life's direction were born.
The rational soul helped him decipher the logical meanings of life. The emotional soul lit the fire of passion, bringing love, anger, and compassion that made him feel alive. The instinctive soul stood as a basic guardian, preserving his existence in unconsciousness. And the core soul, the center of all, slowly guided him toward a point of deepest silence—where the voices of the world faded, and only one whisper remained: the voice of fitrah itself.
At that point, Baskara realized that people often go astray not because they lack strength, but because they forget their fitrah—they forget why they were born, what their purpose in this world is, and where they truly came from. To him, fitrah was no longer just a spiritual concept, but a light within that could not be forged, nor shaped by the outside world. It had always been there, since the very first breath of the soul.
And now, with the four souls beginning to unite and harmonize, Baskara began walking the path back to his fitrah. A journey not outward, but inward. A journey to his truest self.
In the silence of that temple, beneath a sky changing with the seasons, Baskara's soul continued to grow—and slowly… he began to find the true meaning of being human.
To Baskara, fitrah was no longer merely the starting point or a human's innate condition at birth. It was an essential truth embedded within the soul—like a divine seed planted by the universe long before the body ever knew the world. Fitrah was the original light, the deepest honesty that could not be taught, only rediscovered.
Fitrah is silent, yet always knows the way. It does not shout, but always gives signs. In the noise of the world, fitrah is often buried by the voices of ego, desire, and false achievements. But it never disappears—it only waits to be heard.
In his meditation, Baskara understood: fitrah is not something one can own, because it is not a possession. It is a way home—a path back to authenticity. It does not take sides, does not hate, does not crave power. Fitrah only wants a person to be as they truly are, not who they try to appear to be.
When Baskara's souls were fragmented and each viewed the world from a different angle, he began to see that every inner conflict was just a shadow cast by an unrecognized fitrah. And when the four souls began to unite—not through force, but through mutual recognition of a single truth—he understood: fitrah was not about uniting power, but about recognizing the same light within each division.
Fitrah is the deepest silence. It is a truth that seeks no recognition, and a strength that never harms. In a world constantly demanding us to "be something," fitrah gently whispers: "Come back. Not to become more... but to become who you truly are."
When sacred light exploded from Baskara's body, illuminating the once-dark and silent temple chamber, time seemed to bow in reverence to a soul that had finally found itself. His body, once appearing as a twelve-year-old boy, now transformed into the figure of a mature twenty-two-year-old—his true age, bound by the secret of a long ten-year birth in his mother's womb before entering the world.
In the brilliance that dazzled the eyes of the world yet soothed the conscience, Baskara opened his eyes and murmured softly, "Fitrah..."
To him, fitrah was not merely an inborn trait—nor a sacred status passed down. Fitrah was the way home, the path to rediscover the essence of being. It was like a seed of light long asleep within, waiting to be awakened through honest recognition—a search free from pretense.
Fitrah was the soul's compass, not pointing to the world, but to the depths of being. It wasn't about choosing between what is right or wrong by human standards, but about being true to the deepest calling—to the quiet voice that whispered goodness, even if it made no sense to the world.
Baskara realized, this world is full of masks and roles. But fitrah could never be disguised, wrapped in accomplishments, strength, or validation. Fitrah did not seek judgment—it only wished to be understood and lived. So when he "created" his own fitrah, it did not mean he forged something from nothing. It meant he unveiled the veil hiding the light already within him. He chose to live—not as a symbol of power, nor as the hope of others—but as his truest self, without performance, without masks, and without fear of being different.
And in that stillness, fitrah united with body, with soul, with the universe. Baskara was reborn—not as a child whose fate was questioned, but as the bearer of a path he had discovered on his own.
In the stillness of the outside world, amidst an ancient temple shrouded in the wind's breath and the scent of ancestral earth, Baskara sat cross-legged at the threshold between two realms—the corporeal and the spiritual. His face was calm, yet his gaze was vacant, as if piercing through time and space, diving into a depth of meaning that no ordinary words could convey.
In a voice barely audible, he whispered,
"Fitrah..."
One word, yet it seemed to shake every corner of his inner world.
Then he asked himself—not to find an answer, but to feel and contemplate,
"Is fitrah destiny? Or is destiny a part of fitrah? Is fitrah a path already determined, or is it a path we must rediscover on our own?"
The question echoed within him, reverberating like the toll of a bell in a silent valley. He knew the answer would not be found in books, teachers, or external teachings. That answer could only arise if he succeeded in piercing through himself.
Fitrah...
It is not destiny in the sense of a fate stretched out from the heavens. But neither is it a mere freedom of choice taken at will. Fitrah is a seed planted by the universe in the soul of every being. It is not a command, not a prohibition, but a silent yet powerful calling—like the breeze felt only by a heart in stillness.
Destiny can come in the form of trials, blessings, even pain and loss. But fitrah is how the soul responds to it all. It is the way home—not to a house, but to the purest form of the self. Thus, the true life path is not the loud one, not one full of glitter and applause. But the silent one, the one we walk alone, when we decide to no longer be someone else, but to become our true self, destined to grow.
Fitrah is the path back.
Not back to the past, but back to the origin of consciousness—to the point where we recognize who we truly are before the world forced us to wear masks.
Baskara took a deep breath, feeling warmth in his chest.
Within him, four souls were now united—not as conflicting voices, but as a harmony of awareness. He did not yet have all the answers. But he knew he was on the right path—the one outlined by his own fitrah.
And for the first time in his life…
Baskara truly felt alive.
---
In the thick silence of the night, when the world outside seemed frozen in stillness, Baskara closed his eyes again, diving deeper into the ocean of his soul. Now that his soul had fused into harmony, he began to see the complete form of his own awareness—four souls once divided now stood calmly before him in a realm untouched by ordinary logic.
He whispered,
"Can these souls reveal what fitrah truly is? Is the path within them… or must I seek it alongside them?"
His thoughts churned endlessly. Fitrah, a single word, yet a vast mystery deeply rooted in his very being. Not content with mere union, Baskara once more split his soul into four perfect aspects.
"It's better I seek it through them…" he declared resolutely.
As those words were spoken, the four souls detached from his body, floating above the temple's ceiling. His physical form remained seated in stillness, unmoving like ancient stone—but his soul now journeyed, swirling around his body, touching one another in a unified consciousness. They were not separated, though now in four forms—four perspectives from one awareness, four paths to seek one truth.
Suddenly, amidst the silence, Baskara felt something—a faint yet fierce wave from afar. Hundreds of kilometers away, yet unable to hide its intent from Baskara's soul.
Entities moved within unseen dimensions, like the creeping night bearing grudges.
"Hmph… I'm not a fool," he muttered coldly.
"They must be the demons from another realm, eyeing my body like last time."
Baskara knew—without a soul, a human body is just an empty shell. And in a world full of dark entities and imprisoned spirits, a body like his was a coveted prize. But he was no novice. Surrounding the temple, he had placed protective seals—not just of spiritual energy, but also physical defenses, manifested through mantras and dimensional markings impervious to ghostly beings.
"Very well…" he exhaled, his voice echoing through all four souls.
"Before seeking the true meaning of fitrah, let's clear the path first."
Baskara's four souls trembled, then in speeds unseen by mortal eyes, they flew from the temple—rushing toward the oncoming darkness. They were not just light, but blades. Baskara's souls manifested as sharp awareness—each bearing different colors and strengths. One represented rage, one silence, one wisdom, and one doubt that had made peace with itself.
That night, the sky above the ancestral land lit up—not with lightning or fire—but with the soul's light of a young man seeking the essence of life. And before he found the answer to fitrah, he would ensure no darkness dared to block his path.