He nodded slowly. "They didn't leave by choice."
The air in the villa grew colder, pressing down on them like invisible weight. They hadn't just lost their friends, they were losing time. And if they delayed, they might lose everything.
The night sky deepened; the stars hid behind drifting clouds. A chill wind rustled the branches above as Isabel and Raphael stood frozen at the doorway, their eyes fixed on the ancient tome.
Her hand trembled as she touched it. The moment her fingers brushed the cover, the first page fluttered open. Black ink began to swirl, forming letters that shimmered faintly.
"I can use it too..." she whispered under her breath. She swallowed hard, then asked, "Where are my friends?"
The ink moved swiftly across the page: They have all been taken. To the Malabar Radio Station.
Raphael, standing behind her, narrowed his eyes. His jaw clenched. "A radio station? Why would they be taken there?" he muttered, mind racing.
Isabel looked up at him, fearful, yet steadfast. She turned back to the tome. "What should we do to save them?"
The ink shimmered again: Open the compartment beneath the car trunk. There is a letter from Kaivan inside.
Their eyes met. In silence, resolve hardened between them. Time was slipping away. Without hesitation, they stepped out into the cold night. Isabel pulled her jacket close; Raphael's strides were firm and steady.
Frans's black SUV stood under the pale moonlight, quiet and still. Without pause, Raphael went to the back, his movements sharp with purpose. Beneath the scattered supplies, his eyes caught sight of a black box. His breath hitched as he reached out carefully, fingers trembling ever so slightly.
Isabel stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the object. "Open it," she whispered, as if knowing that whatever lay inside that box would change everything.
Raphael nodded and slowly lifted the lid. The dim glow of the flashlight revealed what was inside, firearms, smoke grenades, flashbangs, and well-maintained combat knives. His eyes widened, his fists tightening. His heart pounded, not from fear, but from something far deeper, guilt.
"What the hell…? When did Kaivan manage to take these supplies?" he muttered under his breath.
Isabel looked at him softly, empathy glimmering in her gaze. She knew how heavy the weight of his past was, and now, it seemed fate was dragging him back to the path he thought he had left behind. Yet this time, the reason was different.
With slightly trembling hands, Isabel reached for a neatly folded white letter lying inside the box. "Kaivan… he prepared all this," she murmured, carefully unfolding the letter.
Some time earlier…
The first light of dawn slipped past the horizon, turning the sky from black to a pale, misty blue. Inside the quiet workshop, two figures stood among rows of mechanical tools and weapons.
"You're serious? We're bringing all this... for a vacation?" Radit's tone dripped with sarcasm, though the worry behind it was clear. He stepped carefully toward the table, as if every inch of floor might explode beneath his feet.
Kaivan didn't answer right away. He took a long breath, choosing his words in silence. A faint smile appeared, gentle, but restless.
"Better to be prepared. We don't know what's waiting out there. Besides, these came from the Purwakarta raid. If we leave them here, who knows what might happen?" Kaivan turned a magazine in his hand, his fingers moving with precise, practiced ease.
Radit frowned, unconvinced. He traced his hand along the handle of a short weapon.
"Still... this feels excessive. You sound like we're going to war."
Kaivan paused, eyes dark with too much understanding."You know this world doesn't promise safety. And if everything turns out fine, we'll just store them back."
Silence thickened between them. The only sounds were the ticking of a clock and the soft hum of the generator. Radit exhaled, his gaze softening, though doubt lingered.
"This isn't just paranoia, is it?"
Kaivan stayed quiet for a while, then met his eyes directly."I don't know. But I can feel it... something's coming. And I won't let us face it unprepared."
Radit searched his face for a moment, finding nothing but that calm, unshakable resolve. Finally, he sighed and nodded."Fine. But if this turns out to be just another one of your weird hunches, I'm never letting you live it down."
Kaivan chuckled softly, sliding the last weapon into the bag before patting Radit's shoulder with his metal hand. "If I'm wrong, I'll gladly take it."
Their laughter broke the stillness, though it couldn't chase away the quiet unease that hung in the air. Deep inside, Kaivan knew this was necessary. The Tome of Omnicent had already spoken to him. He had written a letter, white paper, black ink, now sealed and waiting in the box.
Raphael watched as Isabel began to read: "If you've opened this box, it means I and a few others have been taken. Isabel, you'll lead Raphael forward. Raphael, take your gear, and use it again, this time, for the right path."
Raphael froze. A weight pressed hard against his chest. Kaivan... trusted him. After everything that had happened. He looked back at the weapons in the box, then at Isabel, who held the letter tightly in her trembling hands.