Lawang Sigotaka

Chapter 30

The air around Dimas was thick with anticipation, a quiet tension that seemed to vibrate through the very ground beneath his feet. He could feel the weight of the forest pressing in around him, the ancient trees leaning forward as if to listen in on the conversation that was about to take place. His footsteps were heavy against the earth, each step stirring up a soft whisper of dust that seemed to hang in the air, suspended in the heavy atmosphere of Tuksongo.

As Dimas made his way further into the village, he noticed the villagers had begun to emerge from their homes, their eyes following him with a mix of curiosity and caution. They kept their distance, lingering in the shadows, their expressions inscrutable. He could feel their silent presence, a watchful energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

The path led him to the largest hut in the village, a structure that seemed to sag under the weight of its own age. Its thatched roof was thick with moss, and the wooden beams, though weathered, held a quiet strength. Two stone lanterns stood at either side of the entrance, their bases adorned with offerings flowers, fruit, and small bowls filled with rice. Smoke from burning incense spiraled upward in thin, delicate tendrils, merging with the mist that lingered just above the ground.

Dimas paused at the threshold, taking a deep breath. He could feel a presence inside, something old and powerful, a force that seemed to resonate with the very air around him. The doorway was dark, the interior shrouded in shadow, but he could just make out the figure of a man seated cross-legged on a woven mat.

"Masuklah," a deep voice called from within, its tone calm and commanding. "Enter."

Dimas stepped inside, the cool air of the hut a stark contrast to the warmth outside. His eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light, and he saw the village elder before him. The man was old, his face lined with age, his hair a thick white mane that framed his sharp, dark eyes. He wore a simple robe, its fabric worn and faded, but he sat with a dignity that spoke of his position, of his wisdom.

"Selamat datang," the elder said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo off the walls of the hut. "Welcome, traveler. We have been expecting you."

Dimas nodded, his throat suddenly dry. "Thank you," he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I am honored to be here."

The elder nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You have come far, Dimas," he said. "Farther than most who seek the truth of these lands. But you are not the first to walk this path, nor will you be the last."

Dimas felt a shiver run down his spine at the elder's words. He could feel the weight of history in the man's gaze, the sense that this was not just a moment in time, but a continuation of something much larger, much older. He felt small in that moment, like a single thread in a vast tapestry, his place in the world suddenly uncertain.

"I have come seeking answers," Dimas said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Answers about the Sigotaka, about the realms it connects."

The elder's eyes seemed to sharpen at the mention of Sigotaka, his gaze piercing. "Sigotaka... gateway to the realms," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It is a name that carries great weight, great power. And it is not one to be spoken lightly."

Dimas nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the tension in the air, the sense that he was standing on the edge of something profound, something that would change everything he thought he knew.

"I understand," he said softly. "But I need to know. I need to understand what it means."

The elder studied him for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. "Understanding is a journey," he said finally, his voice soft but firm. "It is not something that can be given, only earned. The Sigotaka is a path, a test, a trial of spirit and will. It is not just a doorway between worlds, but a challenge to those who seek to pass through it."