Unity Tested

The temple’s inner sanctum, hidden deeper within the ancient structure, exudes an eerie stillness. The blue flame at the center of the chamber flickers restlessly, mirroring the emotions simmering within the group. The walls, adorned with faded inscriptions of past battles and lost civilizations, seem to whisper ancient warnings.

The air is thick with tension. Though they stand in the same circle, they are worlds apart in belief.

The sanctum grows colder, the fire dimming with each disagreement.

Somchai's fists clenched, voice sharp. "We can’t just wait and watch. The Nine Dragons won’t stop unless we force them to. We need action... and we need it now."

Siti is calm, yet firm. "Violence feeds violence. The land does not need more blood. We must resist, but with wisdom, not wrath."

Somchai's anger rising, stepping forward. "Wisdom won’t stop their machines, Siti. You think prayers and patience will save our people? Sometimes, fire must fight fire."

Kyla crossed her arms, her tone biting. "And what happens when the fire spreads? When do we become the very thing we swore to destroy? Destroying them makes us no better than them. We must expose their lies, not become monsters ourselves."

Mira was cold, calculated, her gaze locking onto Sebastian. "You speak of truth... yet you hide secrets. How do we trust someone who wears so many masks?"

A charged silence follows.

The accusation hangs in the air like a dagger. The group turns to Sebastian, their eyes searching for answers he is unwilling to give.

Sebastian merely smirks, shifting his weight lazily, arms crossed. His body language is deliberately unreadable, his loyalty wrapped in shadow.

Sebastian nonchalantly, a slight chuckle. "Trust is overrated. You don’t need to trust me, Mira. You just need to decide whether we want the same thing."

Mira's eyes narrowed, voice edged with steel. "And what exactly do you want?"

Sebastian was grinning, but his eyes were dark. "That’s the fun part—you’ll have to stick around to find out."

The flames flicker violently, as if reflecting the unease in the room.

—

Putri shifts uncomfortably, glancing at the fire. Her mind is elsewhere—haunted by Tessa’s smear campaign, the words still clawing at her confidence.

"Am I even fit to lead... or am I just a pawn?"

The weight of expectation sits heavy on her shoulders, doubt creeping into her resolve.

In the shadows, Bintang watches.

Unseen but ever-present, he studies them like a chessboard in motion. His eyes flicker between each speaker, calculating.

"Will they break... or will they rise?"

The question lingers, but only time will tell.

The fire pit flares, casting their faces in sharp relief, as if demanding their true convictions.

This is their first test—a battle not of fists, but of ideologies.

And not all of them will walk away unscathed.

—

Outside the ancient temple, beneath the sacred trees that have stood for centuries, their roots entwined like silent sentinels guarding forgotten history. The evening breeze carries the scent of damp earth and whispers through the leaves, rustling like distant voices.

Putri stands alone on the temple’s stone steps, gazing at the fading sun, its dying embers casting an orange glow across the treetops.

The sky shifts from gold to deep indigo, a quiet metaphor for the storm in her heart.

She grips the fabric of her sleeves tightly, her nails pressing against her palm, a silent battle against the rising storm within.

She hears Tessa’s voice, as sharp as a dagger in her mind— "A leader? You? You’re nothing but a fraud hiding behind good intentions."

"People follow you out of convenience, not trust. When things fall apart... they’ll see you for what you are."

The weight of accusation, of betrayal, coils around her chest like iron chains.

"How can I lead them... when I can’t even trust myself?"

Putri was whispering to herself, voice trembling. "I wanted to inspire... to protect. But now... all they see is a fraud."

She presses a hand to her temple, exhaling sharply, trying to push the thoughts away.

Putri's eyes were dark, voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t afford to break. Not now... not ever."

She closes her eyes, forcing back the tears that threaten to escape.

—

Sebastian’s Presence – A Silent Understanding

A presence lingers behind her, footsteps barely audible against the stone.

Sebastian stands at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, his gaze steady yet unreadable. He watches her in silence, a flicker of something almost human in his eyes—understanding, perhaps even recognition.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t offer empty reassurances or false comfort.

He simply exists in that moment, his presence a quiet acknowledgment of her pain.

Putri doesn’t turn to face him, but she knows he’s there. And somehow, that is enough.

The sun disappears behind the treeline, leaving only shadows.

But despite the darkness, she is not alone.

—

Spiritual Binding Ritual

Back inside the ancient temple, the air is thick with incense and the whispers of unseen ancestors. The blue flame at the center of the chamber flickers in response to the unseen forces at work, casting elongated shadows on the carved stone walls.

The ceiling above is adorned with celestial symbols—ancient constellations mapped out by those who walked this path centuries before. The sacred space feels alive, charged with something beyond mere human presence.

Siti steps forward, her posture serene yet commanding.

In her hands, she carries a woven cloth, its fibers etched with ancestral symbols of unity and protection. It is old, worn from time, yet it vibrates with unseen power.

She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, then begins to chant.

Siti’s voice rises and falls in rhythm, a melodic chant in her native tongue, weaving through the chamber like a river carving its path through stone.

The flame pulses in response, its light bending and stretching as if it, too, is listening.

The others watch in solemn silence, some with skepticism, others with reverence.

Mira’s arms are crossed, her face impassive—but her fingers twitch, betraying curiosity.

Kyla tilts her head slightly, as if trying to decode the meaning behind Siti’s ancient words.

Somchai exhales sharply, uneasy but unwilling to break the moment.

The ritual demands participation.

Siti steps to each of them in turn, wrapping the cloth gently around their wrists. As the fabric tightens, the flame grows brighter, its light wrapping around them like unseen chains binding fate itself.

Siti softly, yet resonant. "By this bond, we are united. By this flame, we are guided. As Lotus Flames, we stand together… or fall alone."

The weight of her words lingers, the finality sinking in.

One by one, they answer:

Somchai was reluctant, but resolved, voice rough. "For my people... for justice."

Kyla was steadfast, eyes unwavering. "For truth... and hope."

Mira guarded, but with quiet determination. "For those who cannot fight."

Putri finds her strength, voice steady. "For the future... for all of us."

A moment of hesitation.

Then, a smirk.

Sebastian smirking, but his eyes serious, almost unreadable. "For the light… and the shadows."

Siti studies him for a brief second, searching for deception—but finds only conviction laced with something else... something unknowable.

She nods.

—

As the last vow is spoken, the flame surges upward in a brilliant golden burst, illuminating the temple walls like the dawn of a new age.

For better or worse, they are bound now—their fates tied to each other, their cause no longer just their own.

But even in unity, the fractures remain.

Somchai glances at Mira, suspicion still lingering.

Putri grips her wrapped wrist, shoulders tense.

Sebastian watches the flames with an unreadable expression—calculating, waiting.

Beyond the ritual’s glow, in the deepest shadows of the temple, another figure watches.

Bintang, unseen but always present.

His eyes flicker with amusement, with curiosity, with something far more dangerous.

Bintang murmured to himself, almost amused. "Let the game begin."

The flame flickers violently—as if it, too, has heard the unspoken challenge.