Lawang Sigotaka

Chapter 17

The door clicked shut behind Dimas, its sound echoing through the quiet corridors of the museum like the final note of a requiem. He stood there for a moment, his hand still on the doorknob, his mind a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions. The stillness of the museum, usually a comfort, now felt suffocating, as if the very air inside had grown thick with the weight of the secrets he had uncovered.

Pak Joko's words lingered in his mind, a subtle warning that refused to be ignored. The line between knowledge and obsession is thin. Dimas had always believed himself to be a man of reason, driven by logic and a thirst for understanding, but now that thirst had turned into something more a hunger, insatiable and consuming, that gnawed at him with every step he took.

He knew he was standing on the brink of something monumental, something that could change everything he thought he knew about Borobudur, about history, about the world itself. But with that realization came a deep, creeping unease. The Sigotaka was not just a gateway it was a threshold, and crossing it meant leaving behind the safety of the known, stepping into a realm where the rules of reality no longer applied.

Dimas let go of the doorknob and turned to face the long corridor stretching out before him. The museum, with its dim lighting and silent exhibits, now seemed more like a tomb than a place of learning a mausoleum for forgotten knowledge, where the past lay buried beneath layers of dust and stone. But it was also a treasure trove of secrets, a labyrinth of clues waiting to be deciphered, and Dimas was determined to unravel its mysteries, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, he started down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Each step felt like a journey in itself, a movement away from the safety of the familiar and toward the unknown. The exhibits that lined the walls, once so familiar, now seemed to watch him with a silent, judgmental gaze, as if they were aware of the path he was about to take and were questioning his worthiness to tread it.

As Dimas neared the museum's entrance, the light filtering in through the tall windows grew brighter, the golden rays of the afternoon sun spilling across the marble floor in a wash of warmth and light. But the warmth did little to ease the cold knot of tension in his stomach. The museum, with all its secrets and shadows, had been a sanctuary, a place where he could explore the mysteries of the past at his own pace. Stepping outside meant facing the reality of what he had uncovered, and that reality was far more daunting than any ancient text or forgotten relic.

He paused at the base of the grand staircase, his gaze drifting up to the massive painting that dominated the wall above. It depicted Borobudur in all its glory, the temple's spires rising majestically toward the heavens, bathed in the golden light of dawn. The painting had always inspired a sense of awe in Dimas, a reminder of the greatness of the past and the achievements of those who had come before him. But now, as he looked at it, all he could see was the dark shadow that seemed to lurk behind the spires, a shadow that hinted at the secrets buried deep within the temple's stone walls.

The Sigotaka. The word echoed in his mind, a siren's call that pulled at him with an almost physical force. The gateway to the realms, where the divine met the mortal. Dimas knew that once he left the museum, there would be no turning back. His quest would become more than just an academic pursuit it would be a journey into the unknown, a quest for understanding that could cost him everything.

But the alternative turning away, leaving the mystery unsolved was unthinkable. The Sigotaka was real, and it was calling to him. He had to find it, had to know what lay beyond that ancient gateway, even if it meant confronting dangers he could not yet comprehend.

With a final, resolute breath, Dimas turned away from the painting and climbed the staircase, each step taking him closer to the bright sunlight streaming in through the museum's front doors. The air grew warmer as he ascended, the light brighter, until he stepped out into the entrance hall, the large double doors ahead of him standing wide open, inviting him to leave the confines of the museum and step back into the world outside.