After spending countless hours in the company of Grandfather Har at Wira Falls, the fading light of day signalled the inevitable call to return home.
The evening air had turned crisp, and the golden hues of the setting sun now gave way to the dusky embrace of twilight.
Grandfather Har, ever the practical man, straightened his back and let out a sigh, "Oi, lad! Let's be off! Or do you fancy spending the night here, with naught but the cold earth for a bed?"
His voice carried the weight of experience, tempered by the quiet amusement of a man who had long since learned to appreciate the impatience of youth.
Havi hesitated. He had spent the better part of the day immersed in thought, his mind weaving plans and possibilities, yet the road ahead seemed more uncertain than ever.
What had first appeared to be a simple task, the construction of a waterwheel was now proving far more intricate than he had imagined.
Every answer led to another question, every certainty to another doubt.
Even so, he nodded at last, "Very well, Grandfather Har. Let's go."
With deliberate care, Havi moved to assist the old man, guiding him down the treacherous slopes that surrounded the falls.
The path was uneven, its stones slick with the mist that rose from the cascade, but step by step, they made their way back to solid ground.
As they walked, Havi's thoughts drifted to the swamp he had discovered only days before, a secluded place where Percha trees grew in abundance, their gnarled roots twisting through the earth like veins of some ancient, slumbering beast.
It had been a strange and wondrous sight, and now, as they approached the crossroads leading back to the village, an idea took root in his mind.
"Grandfather Har, let's take the shortcut," he suggested, his voice measured but purposeful.
The old man cast him a wary glance, "A shortcut, is it?"
"Yes," Havi confirmed, nodding towards the dense forest ahead. "Through the trees. It'll save us time."
Grandfather Har's gaze lingered on the path before them, his expression unreadable.
"Ah, that forest," he murmured. "Are you not troubled by the stories? The guardian spirits, the watchful eyes in the dark… the old tales still whisper of those who entered but never returned."
A smile ghosted across Havi's lips, "I put no stock in such superstitions. Trust me, Grandfather Har, you'll be glad we took this route."
The old man exhaled sharply through his nose, 'Sudirjo's grandson is certainly not lacking in boldness,' he mused silently.
Then, with a shrug, he relented, "Very well. Lead the way."
A flicker of satisfaction passed across Havi's face as they ventured into the forest's embrace.
The trees stood tall and solemn, their thick branches forming a canopy that filtered the last vestiges of daylight into shifting patterns of shadow.
The scent of damp earth and aged wood filled the air, mingling with the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth.
For fifteen minutes they pressed forward, their footsteps muffled by the soft carpet of fallen leaves, until at last, they reached the thicket Havi had been seeking.
Beyond the tangled mass of foliage lay the swamp, the secret he had uncovered, the place he had yearned to reveal.
Havi turned to the old man with barely contained excitement, "Grandfather Har, let's stop here for a moment! I have something incredible to show you."
Grandfather Har let out a small huff of exasperation, "Oi, lad! Don't go wandering off and getting yourself lost in this cursed place!"
"Trust me," Havi insisted. "It's safe. Just come and see."
With a grumble, the old man followed. They pushed through the dense vegetation, the branches scratching against their clothes as they stepped into the clearing beyond.
And there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, lay the swamp.
Grandfather Har froze. For a long moment, he simply stood there, his eyes widening in astonishment as they swept across the landscape before him.
"This… this swamp…!!"
Havi beamed with pride, "Well? What do you think, Grandfather Har? Isn't it remarkable? I was the first to find this place! And look at the Percha trees, so many of them, thriving here, right in our village!"
The old man turned his gaze to Havi then, his face unreadable.
And after a beat, he let out a low chuckle, "Don't be so quick to pat yourself on the back, boy."
Havi frowned, "What do you mean?"
Grandfather Har exhaled, his expression softening, "You may be the first to stumble upon it in recent memory, but you were not the first to set foot here. This place is not as forgotten as you might think."
Havi's brow furrowed, "I don't understand."
Grandfather Har let out another chuckle, shaking his head, "Of course you don't. Not yet. But you will."
And then, with a knowing smile, he added, "Because this swamp did not simply come into being on its own. It was created."
"Created?" Havi echoed, incredulous.
"Aye," Grandfather Har said. "By two men, many years ago."
Havi's heart pounded in his chest, "Who?"
The old man's gaze turned distant, his voice quiet but certain, "Your grandfather and I," he said at last.
Silence fell between them. Havi's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.
"What?!!!"
His voice rang out across the swamp, startling a flock of birds from their roost.
Grandfather Har winced, "For heaven's sake, lad, must you always shout like that?" he grumbled.
"We've only known each other two days, and already you've nearly deafened me three times. Carry on like this, and I'll not see the end of the week!"
Havi stood frozen, his mind reeling from Grandfather Har's words.
The idea seemed utterly preposterous, how could two men, no matter how skilled, create an entire swamp?
His thoughts churned like the restless waters before him.
He had assumed that the marshland was a natural phenomenon, shaped over centuries by the unseen hands of time and the elements.
Yet here was Grandfather Har, claiming otherwise with the casual certainty of a man recalling an old tale from his youth.