CESAGA

In the tranquil embrace of twilight, a vast, primordial swamp unfolded, its shallow waters mirroring the crimson sky. Moss-covered stones, ancient, vine-clad ruins, and lush mangrove forests painted a scene both eerie and serene.

As the crickets' stridulations filled the air, a spectral aura descended upon the land. Here, human souls, tethered to earthly memories, lingered at twilight. Invisible to mortal eyes, the Celestians perceived these wandering Atman, yet the spirits remained oblivious to the living, trapped in their own void of recollection.

A translucent spirit, veiled in a colorful dust, drifted through the scene. Purnama and Suria passed through the spirits without disturbance, their presence unnoticed by the ghostly figures.

For a brief moment, the ruin on the swamp projected a vivid vision of its original state; a bustling town with lined cottages, a manor house, and shops built with sturdy bricks.

Purnama and Suria exchanged a silent glance, their eyes filled with wonder and respect for the spirits. Suria, always eager for adventure, reached out to touch one of the ghostly figures. Her hand passed right through the spirit, as if it were merely a wisp of smoke. 

"A remarkable sight, Purnama," Suria whispered, observing the spirits as they wandered aimlessly, their expressions serene and contemplative.

The spirits seemed content, their memories serving as a comforting companion in their ghostly existence. Their ethereal forms, bathed in the twilight's glow, seemed to radiate a sense of tranquility and acceptance. 

"Evil souls won't hesitate to knock on Darkseed's door as soon as they die to become one of them, while the good or lost ones are always welcomed to Rona, where a mysterious keeper guides those kinds of souls," Purnama explained. "And here, are the souls that reject both paths, choosing to linger where their memories and loved ones once were." 

"It's kind of dull, though, watching all this but not being able to interact," Suria remarked, spreading her arms toward the specters.

"I agree. If we could communicate with them, imagine the knowledge we'd gain. I heard Aurea is developing a device for that in Alexandrite," Purnama added.

"That would be amazing! I'd start by asking them where their treasure is hidden!"

"You'd better hurry then—these spirits only appear during twilight," Purnama replied with a smile.

As twilight deepened, the lingering souls faded like fleeting forms, leaving behind a silent, eerie stillness. The vibrant scene that had once illuminated the swamp vanished into the encroaching darkness.

Ahead, Purnama spotted a cluster of towering trees, their silhouettes rising like sentinels against the misty sky. With renewed energy, the twins pushed through the dense undergrowth, their chappals squelching into the muddy terrain.

The air grew thick with the scent of decay, punctuated by the distant, mournful hoot of an owl.

Purnama and Suria emerged from the swamp, climbing the steep, slippery incline. The trees grew taller and denser, forming a canopy that blocked out most of the moonlight, casting the forest floor into deep shadow. The air was cool and refreshing, a welcome respite from the oppressive heat of the swamp.

The twins cleaned up their feet in a puddle of water, then gathered dry branches from the ground and kindled a bonfire, Suria flicking her finger to ignite the flames. Exhausted from their journey, they began to relax, their eyelids heavy with sleep.

Just as they were about to close their eyes, the eerie snap of twigs pierced the silence, startling them. A figure emerged from the shadows—a knight, clad head to toe in a suit of steam-powered armor, his hands raised in surrender as he approached. 

"Greetings, noble Purnama and Lady Suria. We have awaited your arrival," he said calmly, his voice echoing through the clearing. His speech carried a hint of archaic language, reminiscent of ancient legends. 

"Who are you? How do you know our names?" Suria asked, her irritation evident in her voice, disturbed from her slumber. 

"...You mentioned we. Who are you referring to?" Purnama added, his eyes narrowing slightly, keeping himself on guard.

The knight, his sword sheathed at his belt, slowly lowered his hands. His armor glinted faintly in the firelight. A gust of wind swept through the trees, revealing the intricate details of his suit—the gleaming metal plates, the intricate gears, and the faint glow of steam escaping from the joints. His helmet was shaped like the head of a Leviathan, with large, glowing eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness. 

"I am Lancelot, a knight of the realm," the knight replied, his voice firm. "All your questions shall be answered in due time. For now, follow me. Your friend, Sir Gema, awaits you." Without waiting for further questions, Lancelot turned and began walking back the way he had come. 

Purnama and Suria were taken aback upon hearing the name, but without much thought, they followed. Curiosity about the connection between Gema and the mysterious knight led them forward.

Making a torch from the bonfire, they embarked on a journey through the forest, the crackling flames illuminating their path as they ventured deeper into the unknown.

The wind howled across the barren plain, a mournful dirge that echoed the distant, haunting wails of wolves. Torches flickered and died in the gusts, plunging the landscape into a chilling darkness. A solitary, moss-covered boulder stood sentinel on the plain, its ancient, gnarled form a stark contrast to the surrounding desolation.

Lancelot approached, his heavy iron armor clanking against the ground with each step. As he drew closer, he placed his hand on the boulder's cold, rough surface, feeling a surge of warm, pulsating energy course through his body. A blue aura emanated from Lancelot, enveloping the boulder in a soft, ethereal glow.

Slowly, the rock split upward, revealing a hidden passage. The path was narrow and winding, leading them deeper into the heart of the hill.