Ayish was a teenager who loved studying Southeast Asian folklore. It wasn’t just about the creatures themselves, but the cultures and communities connected to them—the rituals, the beliefs, the quiet understanding passed down through generations. Even so, he kept this interest to himself. To others, it was strange, unnecessary. So Ayish lived a normal life on the surface, keeping his curiosity hidden, like it was something that didn’t belong in the modern world.

It had been a week since the feeling started.

—————-

Khairil POV

Khairil couldn’t explain it. Uneasy. Subtle at first, but impossible to ignore now. Something was coming. He didn’t know what it was, only that his body reacted to it before his mind could understand. The feeling stayed with him constantly, like pressure building beneath the surface.

He had just finished training at the gym and was on his way home, a sling bag resting against his back, headphones covering his ears. Music filled his head, steady and familiar, easing the tension—if only slightly.

Then something changed.

A boy passed by him.

And just like that, the feeling sharpened.

No longer distant.

Now—it had direction.

—————-

Ayish noticed it before he could explain it. The street felt wrong. Not empty—just quieter than it should be, as if the usual noise of the world had been pulled away, leaving something hollow behind. Even the distant sound of traffic seemed muffled, like it was coming from somewhere far away. He slowed his steps slightly, his eyes scanning the surroundings without fully realizing why. A flickering streetlight buzzed overhead, its weak glow stretching shadows unnaturally across the pavement. Each flicker seemed to hold the darkness a second longer than it should.

He glanced behind him. No one was there. Still, the feeling didn’t go away. It lingered at the back of his neck, like someone walking just out of sight, matching his pace. “Just tired,” he muttered under his breath, though the words didn’t convince him.

He turned into the narrow shortcut behind the commercial buildings, a path he had taken countless times before. The front-facing shops were still alive, their lights spilling warmth onto the street, voices faintly drifting into the night. But the moment he stepped behind them, everything changed. The sound disappeared completely. No wind. No distant chatter. Even the air felt still, as if it had been waiting.

That was when he noticed the smell—faint, damp, like something left too long in the dark.

Then came the sound.

A soft, irregular tapping. Not footsteps. Lighter. Sharper. Like fingernails brushing against concrete.

Ayish froze. His throat tightened as he looked ahead. “Hello?” he called out cautiously.

The tapping stopped.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just silence pressing in from all sides.

Then he saw her.

A woman stood at the far end of the alley, near the edge of the overgrown field. She faced away from him, her long black hair hanging unnaturally still down her back. Her white dress looked worn and stained, clinging in places where it shouldn’t.

Ayish didn’t move. Something deep inside him told him not to get closer.

“…Miss?” he called again, quieter this time.

No response.

The streetlight flickered.

For a split second, he thought she had moved closer.

He blinked. She hadn’t.

The light flickered again.

Her head tilted.

Slowly. Too far.

A faint, wet crack echoed through the alley, subtle but unmistakable.

Ayish’s breath caught as the woman began to turn—not her body, only her head, twisting unnaturally until her face came into view. Her skin was pale, almost lifeless, but it was her eyes that froze him completely. They glowed faintly in the dark, a deep, unnatural red.

In that moment, something inside Ayish shifted.

Not shock.

Not disbelief.

Recognition.

The thing in front of him had always been real.

The Kuntilanak stared at him, her expression empty but focused, as though she had finally found what she was looking for. Then her lips stretched into a smile—too wide, too unnatural—and a sharp, piercing scream tore through the air. It didn’t sound distant. It felt close, as if it came from inside his own head. Ayish staggered, his vision blurring.

Before he could recover, she moved.

One moment she stood at the end of the alley—

The next she was in front of him.

Her claws slashed toward his chest. Ayish stumbled backward, barely avoiding the strike before falling hard onto the ground.

She didn’t rush him.

She stepped forward slowly, deliberately, her movements uneven, her head twitching slightly with each step. That smile never faded.

“Why…?” Ayish whispered.

Her lips parted.

“…you…”

The word barely formed—but it was enough.

She knew him.

“Oi!”

The shout cut through everything.

Khairil rushed in without hesitation. “Over here!”

The Kuntilanak turned, irritation flashing—but not fully. Her gaze kept drifting back to Ayish.

Khairil saw it immediately.

She wasn’t here for him.

He stepped in as she attacked again, but instead of meeting her directly, he shifted—just enough for her claws to miss him by inches. His movements were controlled, precise, like he was reacting before the attack fully happened.

He redirected her arm and drove a sharp strike into her side.

The hit landed—but there was no proper resistance.

“Not fully physical…” he muttered.

The Kuntilanak shrieked and attacked again, faster now, more erratic. Khairil adjusted with minimal movement, always just outside her reach.

But something was wrong.

Every opening he created—

She ignored.

Every time he pulled her focus—

It returned to Ayish.

“…You’re not here for me,” Khairil said under his breath.

The Kuntilanak paused.

Her head turned toward Ayish again.

Then—

It jerked.

Sharp.

Unnatural.

For a brief moment, her expression changed.

Not hunger.

Not rage.

Something else.

Like resistance.

Like something was forcing her.

Ayish felt it immediately. A cold weight settled in his chest.

“She’s not…” he whispered.

Khairil’s eyes narrowed. “…Yeah. Something’s driving her.”

The Kuntilanak’s gaze locked onto Ayish again.

That smile returned.

Wider.

Hungrier.

She lunged.

Ayish reacted.

He grabbed a broken metal pipe and swung with everything he had.

The impact connected.

For a brief moment, everything slowed.

Then something inside him shifted.

A sudden warmth surged through his body. The world warped—space bending, stretching—before snapping back.

He was no longer where he had been.

Several feet away.

No movement.

No transition.

Just—

Gone.

The Kuntilanak froze.

For the first time—

Confusion.

Then anger.

Khairil didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, grabbed her from behind, and forced her still. His hand moved to the back of her neck, searching—

Then stopping.

“A nail…”

He pulled it out.

The Kuntilanak let out one final, distorted scream before her body collapsed inward, folding unnaturally before dissolving into black mist.

Silence returned.

Ayish stood frozen, breathing unevenly, staring at where she had been.

“…She knew me,” he said quietly.

Khairil looked at the empty space, his expression more serious now.

“Yeah,” he said. “And she wasn’t acting on instinct.”

Ayish looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Spirits don’t focus like that,” Khairil replied. “Not unless something binds them.”

Ayish felt his chest tighten.

“So she was sent.”

Khairil nodded slightly.

“…Or controlled.”

That word felt heavier.

“For me?” Ayish asked.

Khairil glanced at him.

“Or because of you.”

Ayish looked down at his hands, his thoughts racing.

“They’ve always been around…” he murmured. “Haven’t they.”

Khairil studied him. “You’ve seen things before.”

Ayish nodded slowly. “…Since I was a kid.”

“Then this isn’t new,” Khairil said. “You just can’t ignore it anymore.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Ayish called. “If this happens again—how do I find you?”

Khairil paused for a moment, then continued walking.

“You won’t need to.”

The streetlight flickered above.

Ayish stood alone in the alley.

But now he understood something he hadn’t before.

The silence wasn’t empty.

It never was.

The man staggered across the rooftop.

Each step felt heavier than the last. His body trembled, veins darkened and crawling beneath his skin like something alive. One of his eyes had already turne clouded, half-blind, consumed by shadow.

“You failed.”

A woman’s voice cut through the silence.

Cold. Calm. Unforgiving.

The man flinched.

He turned too quickly, his weakened legs giving out beneath him. He collapsed onto the concrete with a dull thud, breathing uneven, panic rising in his chest.

“He got help…” he stammered. “There’s another Gelana… My devil…it’s basic, weak! They already know its weakness. What should I do?”

His voice cracked, desperation spilling through every word.

The woman said nothing at first.

She walked slowly around him, her footsteps soft against the rooftop. Her gaze drifted upward, admiring the pale moon as if nothing else mattered.

Then, she stopped.

Her eyes returned to him.

“Failure is failure,” she said flatly. “You should be grateful for what you still have.”

A pause.

“Do you really think he would let you live after this?”

The man froze.

Fear tightened around his throat.

“I… I did my best…” he whispered, almost choking on his own words. “Please… give me another chance. I’ll finish the job. I swear.”

The woman tilted her head slightly.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t come here to check if you’re okay.”

Her eyes darkened.

Completely.

Something unseen tightened around the man’s neck. His body jerked as an invisible force lifted the necklace from his chest. It hovered in the air for a brief second

and shattered.

Crack.

The sound echoed.

From the broken fragments, a presence emerged.

A chilling, suffocating aura filled the rooftop.

Long hair. Pale skin. A twisted smile.

The Kuntilanak revealed itself.

Before the man could even scream

it attacked.

———

Three days had passed since the night Khairil and Ayish faced the Kuntilanak, but the memory lingered like a notification you couldn’t clear.

Inside a cozy café, the world felt normal. Soft chatter filled the air, mixed with the hiss of coffee machines and the faint clinking of cups and spoons. And in the middle of it all Khairil. He sat like he owned the place, leaning back in his chair, one arm resting lazily on the table while the other held a glass of iced coffee. The ice shifted with a soft clink every time he tilted it. His sleeveless hoodie exposed his muscular arms, effortlessly catching attention even if he didn’t care. Or maybe he did.

The bell above the door rang, and Ayish stumbled in. Literally. He pushed the glass door a bit too hard, stepped in too fast, and nearly bumped into a chair before catching himself. Khairil watched the entire thing.

“…Wow,” he muttered. “That entrance alone tells me your life is not going well.”

Ayish ignored him, breathing slightly heavier than normal. He walked over and dropped into the seat across from Khairil like his body had just given up. Up close, it was worse. Messy hair, wrinkled clothes, and dark circles under his eyes like permanent shadows.

Khairil squinted. “Did you sleep at all?”

Ayish shook his head slowly. “Not really.”

“Study?”

“No.”

“Gaming?”

“No.”

Khairil paused. “…Girlfriend problem?”

Ayish looked at him, deadpan. “I’m being teleported randomly when I close my eyes.”

A beat passed. Khairil took a sip of his drink.

“Ah,” he nodded. “That makes more sense.”

Ayish blinked. “…That’s your reaction?”

“What? You want me to scream?” Khairil replied. “We already fought a flying ghost lady. My standards have changed.”

Ayish leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I’m serious. Every time I close my eyes, I just move. Like… poof. Different spot. Nearby. No control.”

Khairil chuckled under his breath.

Ayish frowned. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because,” Khairil said, setting his drink down, “you look like you’ve been bullied by your own ability.”

“…It’s not funny.”

“It kind of is.”

Ayish sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I can’t even sleep properly. I close my eyes I wake up somewhere else. Yesterday I ended up in my kitchen. The day before? Outside my house.”

Khairil raised an eyebrow. “At least your power is convenient. Mine just punches things.”

“That’s not helping.”

Ayish raised his hand toward a passing waiter. “One iced coffee,” he said, then after a pause, “…make it strong.”

Khairil nodded approvingly. “Good. You need it.”

A short silence settled between them, more comfortable this time. Ayish leaned back slightly, exhaling.

“Okay… wait,” he said. “How did you even know where I was? And how did you get my number?”

Khairil didn’t hesitate. “I know a guy.”

“What kind of guy?”

“A guy who’s very good at stalking people.”

Ayish stared at him. “…That’s illegal.”

“Probably.”

“…That’s creepy.”

“Definitely.”

Ayish shook his head slowly. “I regret coming here already.”

Khairil smirked. “But you still came.”

“…Yeah.” Because he didn’t have a better option.

Khairil picked up his drink again. “Anyway,” he said casually, “I got something.”

Ayish groaned softly. “Please don’t say another ghost.”

“Close,” Khairil replied. “Crocodile.”

Ayish blinked. “…What?”

“There’s been attacks at a village near Sungai Sarawak,” Khairil continued. “People injured. Some dead.”

Ayish frowned. “Okay… but crocodiles exist. That’s normal.”

Khairil didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at Ayish.

Then

Flick.

“Hey!” Ayish grabbed his forehead. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Focus,” Khairil said calmly.

Ayish muttered under his breath, rubbing the now-red spot.

“This isn’t a normal crocodile,” Khairil continued. “It’s big. White. Hunts at night. Targets people.”

Ayish’s expression shifted, the casual mood fading slightly. “…That’s not normal,” he admitted.

“Exactly.”

Ayish leaned forward, thinking. “…Wait,” he said slowly. “I think I read something like that.”

Khairil nodded once. “Good. That’s why you’re useful.”

Ayish looked up. “So what are you going to do?”

Khairil met his eyes. “You’re coming with me.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.”

“Why me? You handled the last one alone, right?”

Khairil exhaled, clearly done with the questions. “It’s hard to fight this thing while putting the pieces together,” he said. “That’s where you come in.”

Ayish crossed his arms. “You just want free help.”

“I want useful help.”

“That sounds worse.”

Khairil leaned forward slightly, his tone dropping just a bit. “And if you ask one more question,” he added, “I swear you’re going to be my personal punching bag.”

Ayish froze. “…You know what, that’s fair. I’ve asked a lot.”

Khairil leaned back again, completely relaxed.

Ayish looked down at his hands. Honestly… he wasn’t agreeing because he was scared. Well—maybe a little. But mostly? Khairil was the only person who understood what was happening to him. The only one who didn’t think he was crazy. And maybe… the only way for him to understand this power was to follow him.

Ayish exhaled slowly. “…Fine. I’ll go.”

Khairil’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smirk. “Good choice.”

Right then, Ayish’s drink arrived. He grabbed it immediately and took a long sip.

Then winced.

“…Why is this so strong?”

Khairil didn’t even look at him and hope Ayish can be useful.

The plane cut smoothly through the sky, cruising above an endless stretch of white clouds. It was a two-hour flight to Kuching, Sarawak, but for Ayish, it felt like an entirely new experience. He leaned toward the window, eyes wide with fascination, completely absorbed in the view outside. Every few seconds, he lifted his phone and snapped another picture clouds, sunlight, shadows anything that caught his attention.

Beside him, Khairil sat in the middle seat, fast asleep. His arms were crossed, his head tilted slightly, completely unbothered by the world around him. Ayish, however, was the exact opposite. He shifted, leaned closer to the window, then back again, occasionally whispering to himself in awe. At times, his excitement got the better of him, and he accidentally nudged Khairil, disrupting his sleep.

Khairil stirred slightly, frowning without even opening his eyes. “Quiet…” he muttered under his breath.

Ayish froze for a moment, glancing at him guiltily. But the silence didn’t last long. A few seconds later, another photo. Another small movement. Another interruption.

“Ayish…” Khairil’s voice came again, low and warning this time.

“Okay, okay… last one,” Ayish whispered, though both of them knew it wasn’t true.

Khairil sighed deeply, clearly annoyed, but too tired to argue. He leaned back and forced himself to sleep again, while Ayish continued quietly admiring the sky.

After two hours, the plane finally descended and landed smoothly on the runway. The soft thud and gradual slowdown pulled Khairil out of his sleep, while Ayish immediately straightened up, energized.

“Wait… we’re already here?” Ayish asked, looking around.

Khairil rubbed his face tiredly. “It’s been two hours, bro…”

They unbuckled their seatbelts and followed the other passengers out of the plane. As soon as they stepped into the airport, a wave of warm, humid air greeted them. It felt different from the mainland—heavier, thicker, almost unfamiliar.

Ayish looked around curiously, taking in his surroundings. “So this is Kuching…” he murmured.

They walked side by side through the terminal, but the peaceful moment didn’t last long.

“I’m hungry,” Ayish said casually.

Khairil ignored him and kept walking.

A few steps later, Ayish spoke again. “I’m really hungry.”

Still no response.

Another few steps. “Seriously, I’m starving. My stomach sounds like a broken engine.”

Khairil stopped walking. He closed his eyes for a second, clearly testing his patience.

“Be quiet,” he said flatly.

Ayish grinned, completely unfazed. “Can’t.”

Khairil turned to look at him, irritation written all over his face. The person they were supposed to meet hadn’t arrived yet—no message, no call, nothing. And now he had to deal with this.

He exhaled slowly before clicking his tongue. “Fine. Let’s eat.”

Ayish’s face immediately lit up.

They made their way to a fast food restaurant inside the airport. Bright lights, cold air-conditioning, and the strong smell of fried food filled the space. Ayish stood at the counter like a man who hadn’t eaten in days, scanning the menu with intense focus.

“I want this… and this… make it large… oh, and add another one—”

Khairil pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bro… are you ordering for yourself or a whole family?”

Ayish didn’t even turn around. “Just me.”

A few minutes later, their table was completely filled with food. Burgers, fries, fried chicken, and large drinks. It was almost excessive.

Ayish didn’t waste a single second. He immediately grabbed a burger and took a huge bite, clearly satisfied, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

Khairil sat across from him, staring in disbelief. For a moment, he said nothing—just watching as Ayish devoured the food like a starved animal.

“…I made a mistake bringing you here,” Khairil muttered quietly.

Ayish, mouth full, simply gave a thumbs up.

————

After finishing their meal, Ayish and Khairil made their way to the pick-up lobby. The atmosphere was calmer there, filled with the sound of rolling luggage and occasional announcements echoing through the space. Ayish leaned against a pillar, still feeling full, while Khairil stood nearby, arms crossed, scanning the area with quiet focus.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

Ayish shifted his weight. “How long more?”

Khairil didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the entrance.

Not long after, a man approached them with a steady pace. He looked older, weathered by time, with a serious expression that immediately told them he wasn’t here for small talk.

“Pak Pali?” Khairil asked.

The man nodded.

Without wasting time, they exchanged brief greetings and headed toward the parking area. The air outside was warmer, heavier. Pak Pali opened the trunk of his car, and Khairil placed their bags inside. Ayish followed, still observing everything quietly.

They got into the car.

The engine started.

As they drove out of the airport, silence filled the vehicle for a moment before Khairil spoke.

“You’re late.”

His tone was calm, casual but firm.

Pak Pali kept his eyes on the road. “There was another attack.”

That immediately caught Ayish’s attention.

“What do you mean?” Khairil asked.

Pak Pali exhaled slowly. “Another victim. The crocodile.”

The word hung heavy in the air.

“He survived,” Pak Pali continued, “but barely. He lost his left arm.”

Ayish’s eyes widened in shock. “What…?”

He fell silent right after, the weight of the statement sinking in.

Khairil, on the outside, remained composed. His expression didn’t change much—but inside, something tightened. This wasn’t just another case anymore.

“I thought your people already warned everyone,” Khairil said, his voice slightly sharper now. “No one should be going near the river.”

“We did,” Pak Pali replied. “We told everyone to stay away. Especially at night.”

“Then why was he there?”

Pak Pali’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

“He insisted,” he said. “Fishing is the only way he feeds his wife and children. He had no choice.”

Silence filled the car again.

Ayish sat quietly at the back, listening to every word. For once, he didn’t interrupt, didn’t complain, didn’t joke. He simply absorbed the conversation, his earlier excitement completely gone.

Outside the window, Kuching slowly faded into quieter roads.

And the deeper they drove, the heavier the air felt.

———

The car slowed as it turned off the main road and entered a narrow dirt path leading into the village. Tall trees lined both sides, their shadows stretching across the ground as the evening light faded. The deeper they went, the quieter it became. There were houses, but no movement. No voices. No children. It felt as if the entire village had retreated indoors.

Pak Pali parked near a cluster of wooden houses built on slightly raised ground. The air was thick and humid, but there was something else beneath it something uneasy. Ayish stepped out of the car and glanced around, immediately sensing the tension. Most of the houses had their doors shut, windows covered, and not a single person lingered outside.

As they walked along the narrow path, Ayish’s attention was drawn to a large construction signboard standing near the roadside. It looked new and out of place compared to the worn surroundings. He slowed down and studied it briefly before turning to Pak Pali.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Pak Pali followed his gaze. “A new dam project,” he replied.

Pak Pali shook his head as they continued walking. “But we really are against it. If the dam is built, it could flood the upstream areas and reduce the river’s depth here. That means less fish and difficulties for irrigation.”

Ayish nodded slowly but said nothing more. His eyes lingered on the signboard for a moment before he turned away and followed the others.

They soon arrived at a slightly larger wooden house. An elderly man was already waiting outside, standing straight despite his age. There was a quiet authority in his presence.

“I am Tok Badr,” he introduced himself.

Khairil stepped forward politely, followed by Ayish. After a brief exchange of greetings, they were invited inside. The atmosphere quickly shifted from formal to serious.

“You came because of the attacks,” Tok Badr said.

Khairil nodded. “Yes.”

Tok Badr took a slow breath before continuing. “Then you must understand what you are dealing with. The villagers believe it is Bujang Senang.”

The name alone carried weight. Ayish and Khairil exchanged a glance but remained silent as Tok Badr began his story.

According to the villagers, Bujang Senang was no ordinary crocodile. It was described as a massive white creature, far larger than any normal crocodile. However, what made it truly terrifying was its origin. Some believed it was once human. A man who had made a pact with dark forces, transforming into something no longer bound by human limits.

The creature did not behave like a typical predator. It did not hunt randomly. It chose its victims. It appeared without warning, dragging people into the river and leaving no trace behind. Entire communities once lived in fear, never knowing when it would strike again.

Many had tried to hunt it, but most never returned. Those who survived spoke of something unnatural, something that could not be defeated by strength alone. In the end, the villagers turned to rituals and knowledge passed down through generations. Instead of killing it, they managed to drive it away or seal it, depending on the version of the story.

Tok Badr’s voice lowered as he finished. “But things like that do not simply disappear.”

A heavy silence followed his words.

After they left Tok Badr’s house, Pak Pali led them back through the quiet village and offered a place for them to settle down at his house for the night. With no other options and the sky already darkening, Ayish and Khairil agreed.

When they arrived, the house was simple but well-kept. However, it was clear Pak Pali was not planning to stay. He moved quickly, gathering a few documents and keys, his actions hurried but controlled.

Khairil noticed immediately. “Where are you going?” he asked.

Pak Pali paused briefly before answering. “I need to go to the council. I’m asking for help.”

He continued packing as he spoke, his voice steady but weighed down by exhaustion.

“Too many people in this village have suffered already. They can’t go to the river anymore. Fishing was their main source of food. Now they depend only on whatever crops they can grow… and even that isn’t enough.”

He stopped for a moment, gripping the edge of the table.

“Some have already left to stay with relatives. The ones who remain…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “They’re struggling.”

A brief silence filled the room.

“I just hope someone at the council believes me,” Pak Pali added quietly. “For them, crocodile attacks are normal here. Just another incident.”

Ayish and Khairil listened without saying a word. The weight of the situation was heavier now—no longer just a story, but something that was breaking people’s lives.

After a moment, Ayish spoke.

“We’ll make sure this ends,” he said.

His voice was calm—but firm.

Pak Pali looked at him, a faint, tired smile appearing on his face. “I appreciate that. But don’t push yourselves too hard. We do what we can.”

With that, he grabbed his keys and stepped outside. The sound of the jeep engine broke the silence as it started up.

Moments later, the vehicle drove out of the compound, its headlights disappearing into the darkness.

And just like that—

Ayish and Khairil were left alone.

———

As night fell, the village grew even quieter. Lights dimmed one by one, and the already empty paths became completely deserted. It was clear that no one dared to stay outside for long, and more importantly, no one went near the river.

Ayish and Khairil sat outside Pak Pali’s house under a large tree at the edge of the compound. A dim light from inside the house barely reached them, leaving most of their surroundings in shadow. A small tray of tea and snacks sat between them, untouched at first.

Khairil looked around, his expression serious. “You notice something?” he asked.

Ayish nodded. “No one’s outside.”

“They’re scared,” Khairil said quietly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant sound of insects filled the silence.

“You think it’s really a crocodile?” Khairil asked after a while.

Ayish took a slow sip of his tea before answering. “Devils can take many forms, especially the ones humans fear the most. For this village, it takes the form of a giant white crocodile.”

Khairil frowned slightly, surprised by the certainty in his voice. “How do you even know that?” Monolog.

“But killing people like this is too much,” Khairil continued, shaking his head.

Ayish lowered his cup and looked at him. “A devil does not kill on its own,” he said calmly. “If it’s killing, it means someone is controlling it. A human. Someone who made a pact.”

Khairil fell silent, processing the idea. “You have a theory?”

Ayish nodded slowly. “I think it’s connected to the dam project. I don’t have proof yet, so I can’t accuse anyone. But something feels wrong.”

Khairil stared at him, disbelief flickering across his face. Just hours ago, Ayish had been complaining about food. Now he was speaking like this.

After a moment, Khairil sighed. “Then we check the construction site first.”

Ayish agreed. “Yes.”

The wind moved softly through the trees, carrying a faint, distant sound from somewhere beyond the darkness. It was subtle but enough to remind them of one thing.