After piercing through the sky at speeds surpassing wind and sound, the four souls of Baskara hovered above an ancient forest long abandoned by mankind. The towering trees stood stiff and unmoving, as if holding whispered secrets of the past that were never spoken aloud. At the heart of the forest stood a colossal tree, its bark charred black like burnt coal, rising high with twisted branches like the claws of a demon.
From the gaps between its roots and trunk, horrifying creatures emerged. They were neither human nor beast. Some had long necks dangling like cursed ropes; others had heads embedded in their chests; several were only half-bodied, crawling while shrieking and laughing maniacally. These were lost souls—beings who had lost their original forms, eroded by lust, hatred, and the world's rejection.
Seeing this, the four souls of Baskara halted mid-air. One of them, embodying courage and resolve, stepped forward. His voice echoed from the sky, calm but heavy with judgment:
"O restless demons, you are creatures cursed by the world. Life and death have both rejected you. You should return to your origin—to the afterlife, not linger between realms like this."
The creatures turned to him, some laughing, others howling in fear. But before they could flee, Baskara's souls raised their hands—and from their palms burst swirling lights, spinning like spiritual black holes. Instantly, the wandering spirits were sucked in, screaming hysterically:
"Nooo!! Don't absorb us!! We're not done!! We still want to live!!"
But there was no mercy in Baskara's eyes—only a vacant gaze filled with deep understanding. As the spirits were absorbed into the bodies of his souls, he closed his eyes. In the silence, waves of information flooded his awareness—like a massive surge crashing against the cliffs of his mind. Swelling lust, explosive emotions, madness for power and possession… all flowed into him.
"Hmmm…" he murmured inwardly.
"How deep and terrifying desire becomes when it is left unchecked. But all of this can be purified."
He brought his palms together, "Clap!" The sound echoed within the soul realm. With that single motion, the dark spirits absorbed were purified. They weren't destroyed by wrath, but returned to nothingness—to a sacred origin, free from form and longing.
Through this process, Baskara strengthened his mission—he was in search of fitrah, and these four souls were his instruments:
The Soul of Wisdom, capable of discerning true truth from worldly illusion.
The Soul of Perseverance, ever seeking even through loneliness and long silence.
The Soul of Fear, not fear of the world, but fear of straying from the true path.
The Soul of Observation, seeing from afar with a clear and steady heart.
With these four souls, he was not only pursuing the essence of fitrah, but also clearing his path of darkness that might cloud his vision. And before he journeyed further, he knew one thing:
Fitrah is not something sought by sight—but something found when the soul returns to its true self.
And so the night returned to stillness. But the journey had only just begun.
---
After the matter with the restless souls was resolved, the four souls of Baskara floated calmly in the cold night sky. They exchanged glances, sharing a silent understanding without uttering a word. These four parts of his soul were now ready to fulfill the mission he had set for them: to seek the meaning of fitrah—within the world, beyond feeling, and deep into realms of meaning he had never touched before.
Then, with slow movements, they dispersed. One to the north, one to the south, one to the east, and one to the west. Each would follow a different path of destiny. Searching for life. Searching for truth. Searching for the way home.
Meanwhile… in the outer world.
At Eyang Pradipa's residence, the night felt colder than usual. Tirta, Baskara's mother, sat restlessly inside. Her eyes were swollen, her face weary. Two years had passed, and yet her beloved son had not emerged from his meditation. Two years without a voice, without light, without a hug. Longing had turned into a wound that settled quietly within.
With a soft voice full of hope, she said,
"Father… please take me to where Baskara is meditating. I'm worried… I can't bear this anymore."
Teguh, her husband, sitting beside her, could only hold her tightly, feeling the same tremor of sorrow.
Eyang Pradipa, who had been silent all along, finally looked at them and said quietly,
"Very well… tonight, we shall go."
It didn't take long for them to prepare. As they were about to depart, Tirta and Teguh looked confused at the direction they were headed.
"Father… why are we going to the Ancestral Lands?" Teguh asked, puzzled.
Eyang Pradipa stared straight ahead, then answered in a heavy tone,
"My son… I forgot to tell you. All this time, Baskara has been meditating in one of the temples… in the Ancestral Lands."
Hearing that, Tirta and Teguh fell silent. Their faces turned pale. Their eyes widened.
"What…? But… Father… that place is not just the resting place of our ancestors… it's also—"
"The dwelling of spiritual beings. Guardian spirits. Monsters that defy reason," Tirta whispered, her body weakening. Her legs seemed to lose the strength to stand.
Now their anxiety turned into a real, tangible fear.
They realized—they never truly knew what condition Baskara was in all this time. They had no idea what realm he had immersed himself in. And worst of all:
They didn't even know… whether he was still the same child, or had become something they could no longer recognize.
The night sky above the ancestral land was gray, as if even time hesitated to touch that place. When Eyang Pradipa, Teguh, and Tirta arrived at the complex of ancient temples, they were greeted by a thick silence and the soft rustling of leaves swayed by the wind. Rows of ancient temples stood in a haunting stillness. Some had been swallowed by age, nearly overtaken by wild creeping plants, and a few even had large trees growing atop them.
The scent of damp earth and old moss filled the air. Moonlight filtered through the clouds, illuminating the cracked, moss-covered stones of the temples. This place… truly felt like a world separated from life itself.
As they ventured deeper, Eyang Pradipa stopped in his tracks, then raised his hand to point at one particular temple—taller than the rest, though no less weathered.
"This is it… the temple where Baskara is meditating," he said softly, yet firmly.
Teguh looked at the temple with disbelief in his eyes. "Father… is this real? But… this temple doesn't show a single sign of human presence. There's no smoke, no footsteps… it feels lifeless."
"There's no doubt," replied Eyang Pradipa. "This is the place. Let's get closer."
But when they were just a few meters from the temple entrance, their steps halted. The air around them suddenly tensed, and their bodies seemed to collide with something invisible—a soft wall, yet impenetrable.
Teguh froze. "Father… what is this?"
Eyang Pradipa narrowed his eyes, placing his palm on the air. He could feel the subtle pulse of a protective formation, invisible to the ordinary eye.
"This… is a protective sigil. Very precise and strong."
"A sigil…? Who placed it here? No one else knows about this place besides our family!" Teguh looked confused and increasingly anxious.
Eyang Pradipa nodded slowly. "Perhaps… Baskara himself placed it. At that time, the ancestors had entrusted him with all the scrolls and scriptures about alchemy, sigils, and protective formations. It seems… he's understood them far deeper than we thought."
Teguh gazed at the temple, his eyes filled with desperate hope. "If that's the case… then let's break through. My wife and I can't be at peace until we see our son with our own eyes!"
Eyang Pradipa took a deep breath. "Don't be reckless… this is no ordinary sigil. Even I can't force my way through it. It's better… that I call upon the ancestors first. Truth be told, I cannot even see inside the temple…"
That last sentence shook Tirta's heart. Her body weakened, her knees trembled. If even Eyang Pradipa couldn't see inside… what if the one in there wasn't Baskara? What if her child was gone… replaced by something else?
But she held back her tears.
She lowered her head, gripping Teguh's hand tightly.
"Very well, Father… then please… help us."
Amidst the ancient temples and whispers of the night, they waited. Awaiting an answer from a world unseen… to confirm whether the soul she once carried… still lived, or had become part of something unexplainable.
Without wasting time, Eyang Pradipa sat cross-legged on the moss-covered ground, before the temple veiled in invisible sigils. His eyes slowly closed, his breath steady, transcending ordinary consciousness. Within himself, he called out to the ancestor who had long secluded himself in meditation—Ancestor Nala. Though the ancestor rarely appeared, when it concerned Baskara, his extraordinary grandson, Pradipa knew his call would be heard.
Minutes passed without a sign. But Pradipa opened his eyes and said softly, "Wait a moment… the Ancestor is on his way."
And sure enough.
In the silence of the night, without wind, without tremor, the air suddenly changed. Tirta and Teguh felt only a gentle stirring in their chests, a soft pressure that made the hairs on their necks stand. Pradipa bowed respectfully, "Greetings, Ancestor."
Tirta and Teguh looked up to the sky. A gray-robed elder hovered silently, as if suspended between the stars and the wind. His face was serene, lined with wisdom and deep aura. Without speaking, Ancestor Nala gave a faint nod, his gaze immediately drawn to the temple.
His spiritual sight pierced through the stone walls.
Inside, he saw a young man sitting cross-legged in the middle of a quiet chamber, radiating a calm, steady white light. Ancestor Nala froze. That face… nearly identical to Tirta's. Up close, one could think them twins. But that wasn't what stunned him.
What stunned him was the absence of a soul within Baskara's body.
The body was empty, yet it still emitted spiritual energy as though deep in meditation. Ancestor Nala frowned. "Strange…" he thought. Still in the Jagat Sukma stage… but his soul has fully departed? That shouldn't be possible. This surpasses ordinary limits.
He pondered for a moment. Should he intrude? But… if this was part of Baskara's spiritual journey—then even the slightest disturbance could ruin everything.
At last, he made his decision.
Ancestor Nala looked at Tirta, Teguh, and Pradipa. His voice was deep and resonant, "The three of you must not worry… Baskara is still within. He is meditating. We must not disturb him now. He is not in danger."