Listen to me, your father. You see murder as abhorrent, death as a lamentable event. But in reality, it is an inescapable aspect of our ephemeral existence. If one is not felled by the hand of another, then nature will do it. If one is not felled by the nature, then fate will. Do not fear death when you experience it, or see it, or become its instrument. Acknowledge the impermanence of all things and recognize that death, and even killing, may serve a higher purpose.
Adult Wisesa was taken to places of his past. In his youth, he sought the wisdom of countless shamans and spirits, delving into the mysteries of shamanic Knowledges. Yet, more often than not, he employed these hard-earned skills to end the lives of those who posed a threat to the grand vision of his father—the realisation of the Yawa Nation's glory. But each time the final breath left his victim's body, he felt the weight of their lifelessness crush his soul.
The people of Yawadwipa must wake up from their slumber…
Another apparition, with its unwelcome familiarity, dragged the young lad back to a time when he had cursed a family. Somehow, this dream was able to conjure up images of the cursed victims, their grim fate laid bare before him. In those days, the young lad had been indifferent, heart callous and cold. He had not known the pain of long-distance magic, nor the horror of watching each member of the family struck down, their lives snuffed out, and their bodies blackened. It was only when the dream's curse compelled him to experience the agony and fear behind the mother and son's tortured eyes that Wisesa felt a pang of remorse.
As he turned to leave the family's lifeless forms, the same deer that had appeared before returned, to feed on their ravaged remains. When the deer snatched up the mother's face and wiggled the skin with its jaw, sympathy seethed Wisesa's anger. Thus, he bolted to that cursed being.
The realm of Lojitengara should be aware…
Wisesa instead busted the door to a grimy walled room full of dried blood streaks, rusted metal shackles, and newly-sharpened giant cleaves. Within, he found the younger version of himself sitting cross-legged with some magical paraphernalia, while before him, a figure—likely an interrogator—was doing his duty to one of the chained captives.
As Wisesa blinked, his point of view shifted to that of his younger self. He was now the one holding the razor blade and the enchanted doll. No quivering ever struck those rough hands as he was ready to plunge the blade into the doll. Witnessing the bitter traces, the Adult Wisesa tried to resist the urge to follow the path of his past self, a fool of his father's whim and a merciless killer. Those efforts were rendered nonexistent; his hands proceeded with their action, and he could only look on. Because of him, the captive before his eyes met the same fate as those in the past—spewing out razor blades and blood until death.
The deer he was chasing earlier entered the room, sipping the spilt blood out of thirst.
The whole world must be affirmed…
After returning to his original body, Wisesa resumed his pursuit of the deer, but it had already escaped through a door to a different location. There, he found his friends and close relatives, both male and female, shrouded in silence, surrounded by a sea of weeping people. The sky above Alas Purwo was darkened by the smoke rising from the heart of the city.
Sjittordam had launched a military aggression on Uwentira and Limun, the states of Lojitengara, after a long period of peace. A great heartbreak, but most of all, the crippling of the nation. Alas Purwo was not spared from the siege, and the duchy of Pulomas fell victim to the occupation.
Back then, the hatred of those labelled as "Westerners" stemmed from the incitement of his father and a people traumatised by history. When the aggression came, he shared in the trauma. His eyes witnessed the fruits of unstoppable greed for spices. The lives of those he knew and loved were lost in the flames of war. Kins perished at the hands of spice raiders.
The Sjittordam offered them a treaty, but what reasonable person would negotiate with robbers in their own home? The conflict was brief, as Alas Purwo's spies managed to obtain portraits of Sjittordam Prime Minister and her family. They performed an act beyond reason, deemed a record, a breakthrough in the realm of the mystic art of shamanism, instilling fear within the invading country for years to come: Hundreds of shamans, including Wisesa, performed a collective ritual, mobilising their power together to commit genocide of the whole family of the leader of a country far from the west with a stroke of the curse. Once again, Wisesa had the "privilege" of the curse he had done, to watch his victims pile up in a pool of blood. He still harboured hatred for them in his heart, albeit now with a tinge of sympathy. The destruction did not just impact Sjittordam's influential relatives; Wisesa was one of the few shamans who were lucky enough to escape of paying a steep price for the ritual's immense toll. The Gate of Hades.
Once more, the deer emerged, gleefully cackling from the summit of the mountain of corpses. The braided-haired woman carrying the deer on her back was the Prime Minister of Sjittordam.
The Yawa nation is the mace of gods upon the earth. They build the prosperity of those who take shelter, and destroy those who disobey.
"What do you want, Boko Rombeng?" Wisesa finally fathomed. "What do you want me to see all this for? Yes, I did all this! I never denied it. You might make me feel a little sorry for them, but if your goal is to make me depressed while you're free to control Barong, guess what, I've been depressed since the fucking day I united with that tiger!"
Drawing his kris, Wisesa continued, "You can't keep me trapped here forever. If you are indeed the dreaded robber, I hope you don't run away, because I’ll slaughter you like a fucking proper sacrificial animal you are!"
Indeed, Wisesa had already endured numerous violent actions, but it was all just a prelude. The deer knew his weakness all too well. Its white eyes bulged, and its muzzle smiled, blood dripping from it.
As Wisesa's foot slipped towards the deer, it vanished once again. The whole stage changed again too; this time into the interior of the sunanate palace. Wisesa accidentally plunged his kris into the chest of his father, who was arguing with the young Wisesa. As before, the thrust of the kris was not felt by the royal man.
From afar, the Adult Wisesa's gaze fixated on his younger brother Gading, who was carrying tools into the adjacent room. Tears welled up in his eyes once again, and he almost withdrew, but the conversation between the father and the eldest son delayed him.
"Why does Father love Gading more than me?" Young Wisesa demanded to know.
His father's eyes crinkled. "I never said that," he replied.
"You're lying! Your treatment of me and Gading is blatantly obvious! What makes him so special while I... am nothing more than a thrall, a palace coolies?"
"'Your brother has just as important a role to play as you do, only in a different way. The way he's treated is just a means to help him fulfil the goal of his role,'" Real Wisesa said, as if reciting someone else's words.
Indeed, his father approached young Wisesa and uttered, "Your brother has just as important a role to play as you do, only in a different way. The way he's treated is just a means to help him fulfil the goal of his role."
Young Wisesa's expression darkened with anger. "But he's happier than me! He always gets what he wants!"
"Wisesa..."
Young Wisesa remained deaf. "Whenever he asks for something, you always grant it. Whenever he needs attention, you are always there. But as for me, I'm not even allowed to go out and celebrate my birthday! I'm doing all the dirty work that you assign to me, and I'm being smothered and neglected by my own family! My mother won't even talk to me like I'm her unwanted child!"
The Adult Wisesa grabbed his father's shirt and thrust the old man's thick-browed face multiple times. "Did you hear that, old bastard? Couldn't you understand my plea at that time? Do you need gods' revelation to comprehend my philosophical words? No. You simply didn't care. Gading and I are just your tools! You… can feel this pain, can't you? Answer me, you son of a bitch! Fuck you! Die! Die!"
The whole atmosphere came to a halt, waiting for the real Wisesa to finish venting his anger.
Even in the dreaming, Wisesa was exhausted. His knuckles ached. His father's face remained clear despite those vicious stabs. The Sunan of Alas Purwo materialised, continuing what was left of the conversation.
"Are you done, Wisesa?" the father asked the past Wisesa.
"I’m not done until you hear my request!" retorted the younger Wisesa, but he was greeted with a hard slap from his father. His eyes widened back at the sight of his parent.
"You've lost sight of your priorities. Your duty now is not to indulge the fleeting pleasures of this world!" rebuked The Sunan of Alas Purwo.
"I don't care!" replied the downed young Wisesa. "Don't treat me like a monk after what I've done for you! I deserve to have something to enjoy!"
"And you will have it!" his father assured. "You will have it when the ideals of our ancestors are realized. When that happens, the satisfaction of your labor will be sweeter than any royal banquet or the embrace of the women you're so eager to touch."
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The Alas Purwo leader reached out to his son, then placed his hands on both shoulders. "A little more, Wisesa. Just a little more. The spies and shadow troops have already positioned themselves in every state. The final stage is near. Now it's just a matter of preparing you to become Yawa's 'god of war', and silencing the Pulomas rebels...! Can you restrain yourself until then?"
Cold sweat was already pouring down the body of Adeult Wisesa as he paced. He beat himself up. Why did he still obey his father's orders? How foolish could he be? He had fallen into the trap set by the cunning deer. The climax of the event was drawing near.
The scene changed again on the back terrace of the palace. Wisesa saw his younger brother, Gading, approaching his past self while carrying a box filled with engine assemblies.
"Big brother!" Gading's soft voice rang out, but the adult Wisesa covered his ears, seemingly hating the innocent sound and wishing to throw his ears into the desolate darkness of the underworld.
"Is there anything wrong, Brother?" Gading caught young Wisesa sitting there, looking downcast.
The adult Wisesa's tight ear plugs were ineffective; the deer seemed to want to torture himself with the affectionate scene.
"I'm fine," Young Wisesa replied curtly. "Leave me alone."
Gading persisted, "I want to tell you something..."
"Then say it quick."
"Alright! So, I've learnt the dynamo theory to be created in a smaller form..."
The Adult Wisesa tried his best to turn his younger brother's babbling into a droning sound. Gading took things out of their boxes and assembled them while giving lectures on the world of machines. Watching his younger brother immersed in putting together the components of unknown origin was something he could not bear. Tears would break free from his swelled eyes at any moment. Not to mention the engine sundries that escaped his brother’s excited lips were their motivational incendiary speech. He had to get out. Escape from this nightmare. He did not desire to hear Gading blather on about the inner workings of automatons as excitedly as he was now. Wisesa would rather die than have that happiness!
"Oh, come on, Gading!" Young Wisesa protested. "Don't you see I'm not in the mood? What on earth do you want to show me?"
The look on Gading's face changed. Instantly, a feeling of regret graced his older brother's face. "I talked too much, huh…? Sorry. I just wanted to show you this." Gading assembled the last component of his assembly, and gave it to young Wisesa. "For you."
The younger brother handed him a wooden human figure wrapped in dyed cloth. To the astonishment of both Wisesas, it was modelled after him, complete with all of his trinkets, except for its two large, bulging eyes. A fine engineer, not a proper artist.
"This is... me?"
Gading nodded with a smile. "Watch what it can do!" The wooden Wisesa figure began to move, mimicking every action that the real Wisesa had ever performed. Even better, it could fly! It swung its legs towards the pole of the house, then jumped to the opposite pole, and landed in front of the real Wisesa's feet. Now, there were three Wisesas in total.
"I heard from Father that you had to go on a mission to many states. I also heard you won't be back for a long time," said the younger brother, his voice low and innocent. "I made you this for... I don't know, a memento in case you miss me? Wait a minute, why would I make a figure based on you, anyway?" Gading patted his head. "It should’ve been a figure of me, so you can remember home! Ah, never mind, seeing an automaton version of myself assembling other automatons would bore you to death anyway." Gading's laughter grated the nerves of Wisesa's hearings.
In a fit of rage and desperation, the Adult Wisesa kicked the figure out of the gate!
"Fuck, fuck! Stop this, you sick fuck! Stop it! Where are you, fucking deer? Get out!"
Wisesa knelt down, his back to himself. He could not bear the sight of the young, emotional him hugging his brother, then coming up with banters for the figure. The man's tears finally flowed.
"Please, make it stop!” Wisesa pleaded. “You want to kill me, capture me, and seize Barong, just do it! Don't make me relive this nightmare... Take me to Layaloka, anywhere, as long as I don't have to remember this anymore!"
A chilling chuckle echoed from inside the palace door. The deer stood on the threshold, its mouth agape, responding to Wisesa's plea, "But Barong is busy massacring the villagers. You must accompany me to play a little longer."
"Are you deaf? I don't want to remember all this anymore. Stop it right now!" Wisesa screamed.
The deer materialised behind the adult Wisesa, its neck bending down to observe the siblings playing. "Oh, look at you and your little brother! So cute, so adorable. I'm so envious of you. I wish I had a relationship like yours."
"I said stop!" shouted Wisesa as he tried to cast an inner power spell on the deer, only to find that his magic had no effect here.
"Why do you loathe this bond so much? What's wrong with you?" the deer taunted with a sneer. "Never mind. I'll find out for myself!"
"You loathsome creature! Don't you dare!" yelled Wisesa as he charged towards the deer at lightning speed. Suddenly, everything went black, and Wisesa collapsed to the ground.
The Yawanese is one of the ancient nations, its knowledge and civilization eternal. The West, Roma at its center, is the servant of Wredharaja, corrupted, drowning the fruits of Sukra's labor once again! Roma may display Kalimasada with pride, but it must also admit, its time is past. Another nation will rise, Yawa is that rising one.
Wisesa's eyes shot open, taking in the night sky. His feet and hands were chained. Armies had surrounded him behind the dancing tongues of torch flames, the Bhayangkara unit loomed behind them like giants, shielding him from any hope of escape. The Yawanese shamans took the front row, cross-legged, their hushed prayers filling the air. But not all of them were Yawanese. Among them, shamans in shrouds stained with blue ink were present—the Girahite leyaks. A number of Kasunanan officials stood on the side of the gate before the young man's presence. As if weary of hiding hypocrisy, a handful of Westerners—whom they shunned and desired to subjugate as slaves if they could—mingled with them like allied siblings.
At that moment Wisesa forgot how to breathe. Trauma ripped through his heart in wild abandon. This memento would always linger in his mind. He attempted to break free, but his strength betrayed him. He attempted to plead, but the mankind in his gaze was as silent as idols adorning the field they congregated.
Before him also, The Sunan of Alas Purwo stood, right at the mouth of the gate. He had just recited a speech addressed to his chained son, about Yawa being the chosen nation of the gods, about its origins as the first to receive magical Knowledges from the Four Aspects of Sukra, and how the Yawa Nation was mandated by Sang Hyang Sukra to be the companion of his four aspects and the whole world should recognise that. Then the father approached Wisesa with a vase in his arms.
"My son," said the father. "You are about to receive one of the most powerful powers in the world of thaumaturgy. Part of Sang Hyang Sukra himself. Who joined in the creation of the earth and its contents. Praise Sang Hyang Sukra for bestowing this upon you!"
"No, please. Don't do it, I beg you. We're your children, damn it!" The original Wisesa possessed himself from the past, pleading with his father. What a fool he was. He still had not learnt that creatures in dreams did not acknowledge his existence.
The evil deer circled the line of soldiers. Their eyes met again.
The sunan echoed again to his followers. "In order for my son to receive this much power, Sang Hyang Sukra demands payment in kind. My heart breaks at the thought of this. My body shivers, tempting me to stay in my room and refuse Sang Hyang Sukra's gift. But in the end, I-I... I must... I must rejoice, for the one who will be sacrificed has done nothing less than realize the dream of our ancestors, as guardians of the world along with the Four Aspects of Sukra!"
The assembled crowd cheered ecstatically, hundreds of krises and rifles brandishing into the heavens. The original Wisesa, trapped in the body of the past, roared in desperation for release.
The sunan pointed to the archway and commanded, "Bring forth the offerings to Sang Hyang Sukra!"
This was the culmination of the nightmare. From the archway emerged a group of Wisesa's relatives and family members, with Gading at the forefront dressed in his finest royal garb. His mother accompanied him by his side.
Screaming Wisesa quaked against his chains, but the metal restraints rendered him completely helpless in the dream world. "No! Please, just let me die! Not this dream again!"
Gading approached his father, concern and worry on his visage, unable to bear witnessing his brother being shackled even if it was for a ritual.
"Why he has to be chained like that?" Gading asked. Wrong question, indeed. He should be worrying about himself, worrying about why people were looking at him with mournful eyes, as if he was already a corpse.
Before Gading could approach his brother, their mother turned him around and embraced him. A faint weep was no less depressing in his ears.
"I am grateful that Sukra has entrusted you to us. I love you always!" whimpered the mother.
"Mother, why are you saying these words?"
The mother's mouth was sealed ever since. She broke the embrace with her youngest child and ran away, no longer showing her face again. Her grieving was heard until it disappeared along with her being. Gading turned to the two men in front of him, puzzled. The past Wisesa was probably just as confused, but unfortunately, it was not him in the chains. The adult Wisesa was still roaring. The more poignant his voice became, the more the deer lost the will to cancel his dream.
"Father, I'm scared." Gading clung to her father and buried his face in the silken surface. The sunan’s face twisted in a bitter smile, tears streaming down his cheeks as he forced his son to face the unthinkable.
The father replied, "If Sang Hyang Sukra and the gods want you with them to see us triumph on earth, I advise you not to be afraid."
"Stop it! Stop it, fucking old man! I will never recognise you as my father again if you don't stop! My mouth shall always cast curses in the name of all gods until your torture is realized in all worlds and beyond! Stop it!"
The anguished screams of adult Wisesa echoed in the darkness, but they fell on deaf ears.
The ceremonial blade was set free. With an imperative gesture, Sunan Alas Purwo compelled Gading to avert his gaze towards the shackled form of Wisesa.
Without warning, the dagger sliced through the tender flesh of Gading's immaculate neck.
Wisesa's eyes gradually widened. His jaw dropped to the point of pain, seconds before a guttural screech strained his throat until his voice was lost.
The night sky turned sickening blood red, and it erupted a queer, deafening roar.
Blood spewed from Gading's mouth and throat. His father held him aloft like a macabre offering, collecting the blood in a vessel with cold, steady hands. His body convulsed, and his eyes nearly popped out as he, too, witnessed every ounce of his life's essence drained away.
No one knew how many times the Sunan whispered empty apologies while patting his youngest child. He and Wisesa accompanied Gading who drowned in his own blood, until his very life, too, was drained.
"I see," came the deer's scorn, whispering right next to Wisesa's ear. With Gading’s blood, the father carved strange symbols and markings into Wisesa's chest, etching the shapes of animal faces into his skin.
"Why do I have to have this life?" Wisesa said quietly, shaken. "What did I do to deserve this, to lose the person I loved most for that wish of that insane wish of that fucking bastard?”
"Such is the price of greatness," the deer sneered. They were both spellbound as the shamans chanted, the thunder roared, the sky twisted into a sinister grin, and the father laboured to draw the mighty power from the vase—Banaspatiraja, Sukra's umbilical cord, the Patron of Lands, Barong.
"I never wanted to be great! I just wanted a normal life with my family!"
"Fate does not care for your desires, only its own," the deer replied.
Using its teeth, the deer dragged Gading's lifeless body by the hair and presented it to Wisesa.
"However, if you don't mind, I can be your little brother... if you let me wear his skin!" The deer cackled maniacally above the screams of the panicked crowd amid flashes of sickly yellow light. Wisesa's gaze met his brother's empty, accusing stare fixed upwards. A stare demanding justice.
Wisesa bellowed and his skin turned a sickly yellow, tearing into a grotesque, wide-eyed monster! []