The bus rolled slowly along the highway, passing wide stretches of rice fields and neat rows of houses resting at the foot of distant mountains.
Morning light reflected off the windows, but almost no one seemed to care. Everyone was absorbed in their own small worlds.
Screens.
Music.
Games.
Cheap laughter.
Danu stood in the aisle, a camera hanging from his neck, his face bright with excitement, like a child holding a new toy.
He pressed the record button and leaned closer to Jaka's seat.
"Jak," he called teasingly.
"Your expression is perfect for a documentary titled 'Ancient School Trip Torture.'"
Jaka glanced up briefly, staring into the lens with unmistakable laziness.
"Tch. I'm just not in the mood."
"Classic," Danu grinned.
"It must be the destination. Prambanan, man. A masterpiece. Built under insane deadlines, too. Overnight miracle style."
"What nonsense," Jaka muttered without looking up from his phone.
"No matter how big they are, stones are still just stones."
From the back seat, Anindya immediately turned around, clearly annoyed. She leaned forward.
"You're unbelievable, Jaka. Always downplaying things. That's not just 'some stones', you know. It's history. Imagine how people back then built something that massive without machines, without cameras, without…"
"Without signal, like now?" Jaka cut in, shaking his phone while searching for reception.
"Oh my god," Anin rolled her eyes. "That is our cultural heritage. If I become a journalist someday, I really want to write about it. The history. How it was built. The legends."
Jaka scoffed, cutting her short with a forced smile.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Good luck with that."
Danu swung the camera forward again.
"So what's Ranti doing?"
"Sitting pretty, staring at clouds. Planning debt or something?"
Anin shot Jaka a look and immediately chimed in.
"See? People with class know how to appreciate Prambanan. Not glued to gadgets all the time. Right, Ranti?"
Ranti only smiled faintly.
"Yes… it's beautiful," she said softly. "The place. And the memories."
Her gaze drifted back out the window, as if unwilling to join the debate any further.
The bus kept moving. Music and laughter filled the air.
No one noticed that the morning sky had begun to look slightly paler than usual.
A few minutes later, the wheels rattled as the bus entered a rocky road.
From a distance, the silhouette of Prambanan came into view.
Dark.
Towering beneath the pale blue sky.
Standing proudly in the middle of a vast green field.
"Thank God, we're finally here!" the driver exclaimed through the microphone, greeted by enthusiastic cheers from the students.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Eyes that had been glued to screens now turned into gazes of awe and quiet murmurs.
Even Jaka glanced up for a moment, though his expression remained flat.
The bus came to a stop.
The doors opened, and warm Yogyakarta air mixed with the scent of damp earth rushed toward them.
One by one, the students stepped out.
Some rushed to take selfies, others video-called home, while a few simply stretched their stiff bodies.
Danu jumped out first, recording from outside, jogging backward as he shouted, "This shot is going to be the sickest opening ever. I swear."
Anindya followed closely behind, already scribbling notes in her small notebook.
Her eyes sparkled as she took in the massive temple complex and its towering gates.
Jaka stayed behind, still focused on his phone.
His face looked empty, as if he hadn't fully stepped out of the bus yet.
Ranti was the last to descend.
Calm.
Quiet.
Unhurried.
Her gaze never left the temple.
She stared for a long moment, as if seeing something beyond stone and history.
Something only she could see.
["Alright, everyone line up. Briefing time!"] the student council leader's voice echoed through a portable speaker.
["Remember, this isn't a picnic. We're here to survey locations for the graduation event and future school trips. So stay focused."]
Complaints immediately erupted.
Some scoffed.
Some fake-coughed to hide laughter.
Others openly muttered, "What is this, chasing quotas or something?" A few students sighed in disappointment.
They had hoped to relax and enjoy the place.
The leader waved dismissively.
["Alright, move it. Team A checks the parking area. Team B handles documentation. Photos, videos, notes if needed. Team C coordinates with management. The rest stay in formation. You'll be assigned later. We regroup here afterward."]
The group split up. Some moved with enthusiasm, others with half-hearted obedience.
Amid the bustle, Danu leaned toward his two friends and whispered, "Hey, we're Team B, right? What if we explore inside on our own? Just say we're looking for footage. Following them nonstop sounds boring."
Jaka sighed, lightly patting his bag.
"Fine. But don't wander too far. If we get caught, we're dead."
Danu blinked with the expression of a seasoned truant.
"That's the point. The farther we go, the better the angles. Aesthetic. Original. Cinematic." He shot a mischievous wink at Anin. "Right, Miss Reporter?"
Anin chuckled softly, fixing her hair that had been blown messy by the wind.
"I'm fine with it, as long as we're actually documenting. Not just running away for fun. Since we're here anyway, it'd be a waste to do something pointless."
The three of them drifted away from the main group, slipping through a quieter side path. The noise of their classmates faded, replaced by the rustle of wind and the flap of distant birds.
As they went deeper, the air began to change.
It felt cooler, even though the sun was climbing higher. Shadows of relief carvings stretched and shifted along the temple walls, as if watching their every step and breath.
Anin shivered as the breeze passed through her.
She wasn't sure if it was the wind… or something else.
"I feel like… something's off," she murmured.
"I just don't know what."
Danu aimed his camera at the wall, still relaxed.
"Probably just camera pressure. Instant star syndrome." He laughed.
Anin reflexively smacked his arm.
"Hey, be careful. I'm holding the camera," Danu protested lightly.
Jaka only shrugged.
But his pace slowed, his eyes unconsciously tracing the carvings.
They looked far more intricate than anything he'd seen on Google or in textbooks.
They eventually stopped at one of the smaller temples on the eastern side.
Jaka stepped inside first.
"Let's go in. It's cooler. Might be a good angle for documentation later."
"Excuses," Danu muttered.
"But fine. I'll grab some interior shots."
Anin exhaled and followed them inside.
Sunlight filtered faintly through the entrance, reflecting off ancient stone walls.
The air was damp and cold.
The scent of old earth and moss made breathing feel strange.
Danu focused on close-up shots of the carvings.
Jaka sat down on the stone steps to cool off.
Anin walked slowly, her fingers brushing against the reliefs.
Then…
She saw it.
A carving near the ceiling reflected a faint shimmer of light.
The etched lines trembled.
Dust in the air refused to fall, hovering unnaturally.
A glow seeped from between the stones.
Small.
Brilliant.
Like glowing flecks of gold.
Everything froze.
The light didn't just illuminate the space.
It made time itself feel suspended.
Dust.
Breath.
Even the pounding in their chests seemed to stop.
The glow spread, crawling along the carved lines as if alive.
Then the relief began to break apart, dissolving into golden particles that hovered briefly before vanishing into the air.
Anin froze.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Several seconds passed.
She forgot how to breathe.
"…Nu…"
Then she shouted, panicked, "Danu! Jaka! Hey! HEY!"
Jaka turned lazily.
"Yeah, yeah, what is it now…"
He fell silent the moment he saw what Anin was staring at.
For the first time, logic failed him.
Danu turned too, the camera still recording.
"What is it now, An? You always sca..."
His words cut off.
"Wait. WHAT. WHAT?!"
He hurriedly aimed the lens at the glowing relief.
The camera shook.
The screen only captured flickering darkness, like a glitch.
They stared upward.
The relief was gone.
Only an empty cavity remained.
As if nothing had ever been carved there.
No sound filled the space except their ragged breathing.
Danu slowly lowered the camera.
"Just now… you guys saw it too, right?"
"Saw what?" Jaka hissed, though his voice wavered.
"That relief. It was glowing, then turned to dust. I'm not the only one who saw it, right?"
"I saw it too," Anin whispered.
"Which means… we have a problem." She lowered her voice, afraid someone might hear.
"No one would believe us. We could get accused of something. Stealing temple stones or worse." She swallowed. "What are we supposed to say? That the relief disappeared by itself?"
Jaka took a deep breath.
"That's it. We're going back. Now. We didn't see anything."
Danu nodded quickly, still tense.
Anin looked up one last time.
The space was still empty.
She bit her lip, steadied her breathing, then followed them out.
The moment they stepped outside, the world rushed back in.
Laughter.
Shouting.
Phone cameras.
Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
As if what they had just experienced was nothing more than an illusion.
Their expressions stayed stiff.
Their steps stayed close together.
No one spoke.
Danu hugged his camera as if guarding a secret.
Jaka pretended to focus on his water bottle.
Anin walked straight ahead, eyes scanning the distant temple silhouette.
["Alright, everyone. Get ready to head back to the bus!" the leader's voice echoed. "You have thirty minutes to eat or drink. Move!"]
Complaints rang out once again.
"That's it?" "Seriously? No time to walk around or take photos?"
Still, everyone complied.
Exactly thirty minutes later, they boarded the bus.
It rolled away from the Prambanan complex.
The dark silhouette of the temple shrank against the bright midday sky.
Anin leaned back, staring out the window, wondering if what she'd seen was real or just her imagination.
The farther the bus traveled, the more distant the memory felt.
Like a fading dream.
The bus slowly returned to its usual state.
Earphones went back in.
Laughter returned.
Nothing had changed.
Except they all knew something had cracked in their reality.
They simply chose not to say it out loud.
"Our next stop, Alun-Alun Kidul, Yogyakarta," the driver announced.
"For snacks, photos, or the twin trees challenge. We'll make a short stop."
The midday sun blazed brightly.
And for some reason, every reflection on the bus window reminded them of the light inside the temple.
Danu glanced back one last time.
At the far end of the bus, he saw Ranti sitting quietly by the window, staring outward.
She wiped condensation from the glass and gazed at the sky above Prambanan, as if looking through time itself.
Her lips moved softly, almost soundlessly.
If anyone had listened closely, it might have sounded like a prayer.
For a brief moment, he thought he saw a faint glow slip through her fingers.
The bus kept moving.
Toward Alun-Alun Kidul.
Toward the twin banyan trees.
A gate leading to something far greater than any of them could imagine.