CESAGA

Hrakas laid out thick old cloths in the center of the shop after moving the tables and chairs against the wall with the help of Purnama and Suria.

"Have a good rest. Tomorrow, I can show you around Jyala," Hrakas said to the twins.

"I need to clear my head," Purnama muttered, pulling his scarf over his face and stepping out into the cool night air.

"Did... Did I say something wrong?" Hrakas asked, guilt flickering across his face as he watched Purnama leave unexpectedly.

"Ah, it's alright, Hrakas. He's probably just thinking of a good way to... discuss 'things' with Erabis. Don't worry about him," Suria calmy reassured him, glancing toward the door as if she could sense her twin's thoughts.

"Purnama..." she whispered silently to herself.

Purnama walked toward the open square where the carriages were assembled. He carefully lifted the cloth covering one of the carriers and caught sight of the tribute intended for Erabis. His fists clenched as tension rippled through him. With a slow, deliberate movement, he covered it back up.

Then, in a single, fluid motion, he leaped onto the triangular wooden arch of the Jyala village, his balance impeccable.

Standing tall on the arch, he paused, his gaze drawn to the hill to his left.

In the distance, hundreds of torches flickered, illuminating a fortress. It had to be Yurok, just as Hrakas had described.

Purnama scanned the landscape, searching for Renok, but the hills obscured his view. He would have to pass through Yurok before Renok came into sight.

His hand reached for the kris at his waist. His blue eyes locked onto the intricate moose-shaped hilt, focused and unblinking, as if waiting for some unseen sign to guide his next move.

A biting wind howled, carrying with it the icy breath of the winter storm. The air was thick with swirling snowflakes, obscuring the world in a veil of white.

Slowly, a dark shape began to emerge from the tempestuous maelstrom.

It was Purnama's guardian protector, a mystical moose, his antlers gnarled and massive. His translucent body shimmered, revealing the intricate patterns of frost that flowed within. His eyes, a piercing blue, seemed to gaze into Purnama's soul.

As he moved, the air swirled around him, carrying the chilling breath of a winter storm, wrapping both him and Purnama in its icy embrace.

"You're fine," a soothing voice, as familiar as the wind itself, echoed in Purnama's mind. He circled Purnama, his translucent form a beacon of hope.

Purnama nodded, his grip tightening on his kris.

"I know, Zirko," he thought.

"But I must protect Suria. I hope I can wield this blade against any threat."

Zirko's icy form shifted, growing larger, his antlers gleaming like frosted branches. The translucent moose's body twisted, surrounding Purnama as if guarding him from unseen dangers.

"This time, I won't just scout without taking action, Zirko," Purnama declared, his tone resolute.

"I will assist and eliminate that wretch," the voice from the swirling ice-formed moose responded, the winds carrying his words with a low, icy hum. Zirko's presence felt like the heart of a storm—untamed, powerful, and protective.

"Now, rest," Zirko's voice echoed before the ice moose vanished into thin air, as if blown away by a sudden gust of wind.

Purnama jumped down and returned to Hrakas' shop.

As he stepped inside, Purnama saw Suria asleep in an awkward position, while Hrakas had dozed off behind the counter.

Gently, he took the cloth from Suria's feet and covered her, then leaned against the wall. Pulling his scarf over his head, he quickly fell asleep.

All of a sudden...

"Purnama! Purnama! Wake up!!" A small voice pierced through his dreams.

Purnama opened his eyes, his vision blurry at first, but soon focused on the figure before him. "Su-Suria?!"

Suria, appearing as a frightened child, stood in front of him, tears streaming down her face, calling out to him in distress.

Through the window, he could see flames engulfing a nearby house, debris falling from the ceiling, and people fleeing in panic, their screams mingling with the cries of children.

"Pur... Purnama, we have to go..." Suria pleaded, desperation clear in her voice.

Purnama touched his head, feeling blood smear across his hands. To his shock, he realized that he too appeared as a child.

The raging fire sent roof beams crashing to the ground.

Despite the pain, an overwhelming urge to rise surged through him. But the blood loss left him pale and weak; his eyes began to close as Suria desperately tried to pull him back to consciousness.

"Purnama! Wake up! Purnama!! Wake up!!" Suria's frantic voice jolted him awake.

His eyes flew open, and he found himself back in Hrakas' shop. Suria stood in front of him, while Hrakas calmly counted SAGA coins at the counter, placing them into a leather pouch.

"Hey Purnama, go wash your face at the back of the shop. Don't be so heavy-headed! Tomorrow we're heading into Renok. Let's enjoy some fresh morning air in Jyala today," Suria encouraged him.

Still dazed from the nightmare, Purnama rubbed his face, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease.

He quickly got up and made his way to the wooden water barrels behind Hrakas' shop to wash up.

The atmosphere that morning felt peaceful, as if something good was on the horizon, promising change after a long period of stagnation.

Villagers were busy packing their tribute to bring into Renok, while the traders on the main street had already begun setting up their tents for business.