The stone had once been full. Full of echoes from the past, full of wounds, full of hope. But one morning, it was empty.
In the Carving Garden, the stone from Kalimantan that had carried the echo of the first betrayal suddenly stopped glowing. No sound. No pattern. No feeling. As if everything it had held… was gone.
Yohwa approached. He pressed his ear against it. But there was no echo. Only silence. "This stone has forgotten," he said.
Rava wept. "How can a stone forget? Aren't echoes the memory of the soul?"
Numa tried reading its frequency. His instruments didn't move. :This ins't los," he said. "it's erasure."
Raka stood beside it. "In my season, there was a legend of the Stone That Forgot. A stone that chose to erase wounds instead of holding them. But people feared it, because they believed forgetting was a form of death."
In the village, children began dreaming of pasts they no longer knew. They asked their elders about events once told. But the elders stared blankly. "We don't remember," they said. "As if it never happened."
Yohwa sat before the stone. He asked, "Is forgetting a wound, or healing?"
The stone didn't answer. But its silence became a new echo. An echo of emptiness. An echo of a feeling that no longer wanted to be repeated.
The Soul Eclipse approached. It tried to absorb. But there was nothing to absorb. It spun slowly, then stopped. For the first time, it wasn't a threat. It was a witness
Rava recorded: "This stone didn't lose. It chose to forget."
And that night, the Satria realized: not all echoes must be remembered. Sometimes, forgetting is the soul's way of making space for something new.