CHAPTER 1: STALKER

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.

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