Azazel and Shadow made their way back into Simpang as the afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the terraced rice fields. Despite the beauty of the scenery, an air of tension hung over the village. Groups of people had gathered in the square, voices raised in heated argument.
Azazel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Looks like we came back just in time for a… lively discussion," he muttered, glancing at Shadow. The wolf gave him a weary look that seemed to say, More human drama? Great.
As Azazel approached the square, he saw the villagers divided into two main groups. On one side stood a tall, stern man named Harun, a local farmer with a booming voice. On the other side was Laila, a gentle woman with kind eyes who often helped take care of the children. Between them, the village chief, an elderly man named Ketut, looked exhausted as he tried to keep the peace.
"We have to destroy that cursed relic before it brings more misfortune!" Harun shouted, his arms crossed over his chest. "We've lost too much already. We can't take any more chances."
"And I say we should use its power to defend ourselves!" Laila countered, her eyes flashing with determination. "What if another attack comes? We need every advantage we can get!"
Azazel stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Excuse me," he called, raising his hand. The villagers turned to him, their faces a mix of hope and suspicion. Shadow sat by his side, ears perked up and eyes watchful.
Chief Ketut let out a sigh of relief. "Ah, Azazel. Thank the spirits you've returned." He motioned for the crowd to quiet down. "Please, everyone, let's hear what our guest has to say."
Azazel nodded, grateful for the chief's support. "I've been to the Whispering Hills and found the relic," he began. He reached into his satchel and pulled out the pendant, holding it up. The villagers recoiled slightly, as if the mere sight of it carried a curse.
Harun's eyes narrowed. "So, you've brought that thing here? Have you lost your mind?"
Laila stepped forward, her expression hopeful. "Did you learn anything about it? Can it help us?"
Before Azazel could respond, a small voice piped up from the edge of the crowd. "I know stories about that relic!" A young boy with messy hair and a mischievous grin squeezed his way through the crowd and stood before Azazel. His name was Amir, one of the more curious and playful children in the village.
Azazel knelt to Amir's level, smiling. "Oh yeah? What kind of stories?"
Amir's eyes lit up. "My grandma used to tell me about the ancient guardians of Simpang," he said excitedly. "She said the relic belonged to a protector, a hero who promised to keep the village safe but was betrayed by someone close. That's why the hills whisper, you know. It's the guardian's voice, full of sadness and anger."
Azazel's smile faded slightly as he remembered the vision he'd seen in the cave. The young woman and her betrayal. "Did your grandma ever say how to lift the curse?" he asked.
Amir frowned, thinking hard. "Hmm… she always said that curses come from broken hearts and broken promises. To break a curse, you have to fix what was broken."
Azazel considered this. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but he still needed to figure out how to put them in the right order. He ruffled Amir's hair, earning a giggle from the boy. "Thanks, Amir. That's really helpful."
Amir puffed out his chest proudly. "I'm happy to help, Mister Hero!" He ran off, leaving Azazel with a small but warm smile.
Azazel stood and faced the villagers once more. "The curse isn't something that can be beaten by brute force or ignored," he said, addressing both Harun and Laila. "I've seen the relic's power. It's dangerous, yes, but it's tied to your village's history. Destroying it might only make things worse."
Harun scowled, his face flushed with anger. "Easy for you to say! You don't live here! You don't have to see your friends and family suffer every time something bad happens because of that cursed thing."
Azazel's expression hardened. "I understand how you feel, but if you let fear drive your choices, you'll only keep the cycle going. Trust me, I know what it's like to feel powerless." His voice softened. "But that's why we have to be smart about this."
Laila stepped forward, her voice steady. "So, what's your plan, then? How do we end the curse without endangering the village even more?"
Before Azazel could answer, Shadow suddenly perked up and trotted over to a nearby vegetable stall. He sniffed at a basket of cucumbers and, with surprising dexterity, grabbed one in his mouth. The vendor, an older man named Pak Budi, gasped in mock outrage.
"Hey, you furry thief!" Pak Budi exclaimed, waving a hand at Shadow. "That cucumber is not for eating!" Shadow, however, seemed quite pleased with himself and trotted back to Azazel, cucumber still in his mouth.
Azazel groaned, trying to suppress a laugh. "Shadow! Come on, not now." He tried to take the cucumber from the wolf, but Shadow darted away playfully, tail wagging.
The villagers watched in surprise before a few of them started laughing, the tension easing ever so slightly. Even Harun's stern expression softened. "That wolf of yours," he said, shaking his head, "has a sense of humor."
Azazel finally managed to wrestle the cucumber away from Shadow and returned it to Pak Budi. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "Shadow has… questionable tastes."
Pak Budi chuckled, waving him off. "Ah, at least he made us laugh. Spirits know we needed it."
With the laughter fading, Azazel took a deep breath. "Listen," he said, addressing the villagers. "I believe we can break this curse, but it's going to take trust and unity. We need to confront the pain that caused it, not run from it or let it control us."
Harun folded his arms, his expression skeptical. "And what if you're wrong? What if your plan fails?"
Azazel met his gaze steadily. "Then I'll take responsibility," he said. "I'm not asking you to trust me blindly. I'm asking you to give me a chance to make this right. For your ancestors, for your children, and for the future of Simpang."
Laila looked around at the villagers, many of whom were murmuring to each other. "We have to try," she said softly. "Living in fear isn't really living at all."
Chief Ketut stepped forward, his voice steady. "Azazel, we will trust you," he said. "But know this: the safety of this village is our greatest concern. We will support your plan, but we expect you to keep your word."
Azazel nodded, his heart pounding. "I won't let you down."
The villagers slowly dispersed, some still uneasy but willing to give Azazel a chance. As the square emptied, Azazel felt Shadow nudge his leg. He looked down at the wolf, who seemed to say, No pressure or anything, right?
Azazel chuckled, though his nerves were still taut. "Yeah, no pressure," he murmured, scratching Shadow's ears. "We've got this. Somehow."