Chapter 1
Bathed in the silver glow of the full moon, Princess 1 perched atop the highest coconut tree, her gaze locked onto the horizon where the sea kissed the night sky. The breeze played with strands of her long, wavy golden hair, but her expression remained grave, a stark contrast to the serene beauty around her. Clad in the exquisite weave of a traditional songket, she was a vision of regal poise.
"I can feel something sinister coming," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an edge that cut through the calm of the coastal night.
As if summoned by her words, two figures materialized beside her, their arrival silent but for the rustling leaves underfoot. Princess 2, with her cascading curls of gold and eyes of verdant green, appeared on her left. Her breathlessness seemed at odds with her usual grace. "What an incredibly evil aura," she managed to say, her voice tinged with the weight of impending doom.
To Princess 1's right, Princess 3 shared the sentiment, her golden brown locks swaying as she gasped for air. "It feels like my life has been squeezed," she uttered, the radiance of her skin dimming slightly under the strain of the malignant presence they all sensed.
The wind grew fierce, whipping around them, tugging at their clothes and hair with increasing urgency. It felt like nature itself conspired to warn them, to push them into action. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, and the tremors in their limbs were not just from exertion; it was fear, too — a primal acknowledgment of the threat looming over their beloved Terengganu.
Princess 1's blue eyes hardened, her resolve crystallizing in the face of danger. "They are coming, get ready," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.
As if heeding a battle cry, an army of girls materialized in their ranks, an endless sea of determined faces and resolute stances. They wore their songkets like armor, their accessories gleaming in the moonlight, each a warrior ready to defend their homeland.
"This is Terengganu, we won't let you all disturb our state," Princess 1 declared.
But then, as quickly as it had escalated, the tension snapped. The girls, poised for battle, now wore expressions of surprise and confusion. Their eyes darted about, seeking the enemy that had vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.
Princess 1's heart raced, her worry etching lines on her otherwise perfect visage. "W-what happened?" She voiced the question that hung unsaid among them.
They looked at each other, seeking answers. But there was none to be found, only shared bewilderment. And within Princess 1, a thought took hold, as fleeting and elusive as the vanished threat: the evil aura is... completely gone.
***
Dutton's fingers, long and dexterous for his age, grazed over the faded text of the research papers strewn across the bed. His mother's handwriting, a familiar script that had filled birthday cards and school permission slips, now wove an intricate tale of academic pursuit. He lifted a sheet to the light, his curiosity piqued by the strange words that danced before his bright blue eyes-eyes that so often sought out the mysteries of the world around him.
"Mom, what is 'Ulek Mayang'?" he called out, his voice echoing slightly as he descended the staircase towards the kitchen.
His mother, Anna, paused mid-bite, a jellyball pinched delicately between her fingers. She turned towards Dutton, her chestnut hair swaying gently and her expression one of mild astonishment. "How do you know about 'Ulek Mayang'?" she questioned, a playful yet guarded note in her tone.
"I found your research paper while cleaning your bedroom," Dutton replied, holding out the crinkled document as evidence of his discovery. The paper crackled softly in his grip, as if whispering secrets from its past life in the hallowed halls of academia.
Anna's initial reluctance seemed to melt away under the heat of her son's earnest gaze. "Well, Ulek Mayang is a traditional Malay dance that originates from the state of Terengganu. It is a kind of dance where a unique song is sung," she explained, her own eyes-a mirror image of Dutton's-reflecting a spark of fond remembrance.
"Are these the lyrics?" Dutton pressed on, unfolding another sheet of paper with reverent care. The words scrawled upon it beckoned to him, a siren song of cultural lore and lyrical beauty.
"Ah, I forgot that I brought this paper." Anna's smile was warm, like sunlight breaking through the canopy of leaves during their hikes in the woods back home. She accepted the paper from Dutton's outstretched hand, her slender fingers tracing the lines of text as she read aloud:
"I entreat the Mayang,
Entreat with shining nets,
Entreat the Mayang,
Singing with her highness the princess,
Entreat the Mayang,
Entreat it with shining nets,
Entreat for the Mayang,
Singing together with the first princess,
First princess wears a slanted blouse,
First princess with a slanted hairknot,
First princess wears ivory earrings,
First princess has a yellow scarf,
Persuading the Mayang,
Persuade it with shining nets,
Entreating the Mayang,
Singing with the second princess,
Second princess wears a slanted blouse,
Second princess with a slanted hairknot,
Second princess wears ivory earrings,
Second princess has a yellow scarf,
Persuading the Mayang,
Persuade it with shining nets,
Entreating the Mayang,
Singing with the third princess,
Third princess wears a slanted blouse,
Third princess with a slanted hairknot,
Third princess wears ivory earrings,
Third princess has a yellow scarf,
Persuading the Mayang,
Persuade it with shining nets,
Entreating the Mayang,
Singing with the fourth princess,
Fourth princess wears a slanted blouse,
Fourth princess with a slanted hairknot,
Fourth princess wears ivory earrings,
Fourth princess has a yellow scarf on,
Persuading the Mayang,
Persuade it with shining nets,
Entreating the Mayang,
Singing with the fifth princess,
Fifth princess wears a slanted blouse,
Fifth princess with a slanted hairknot,
Fifth princess wears ivory earrings,
Fifth princess has a yellow scarf on,
Persuading the Mayang,
Persuade it with shining nets,
Entreating the Mayang,
Singing with the sixth princess,
Sixth princess wears a slanted blouse,
Sixth princess with a slanted hairknot,
Sixth princess wears ivory earrings,
Sixth princess has a yellow scarf,
Persuading the Mayang,
Persuade it with shining nets,
Entreating the Mayang,
Singing with the seventh princess,
Seventh princess wears a slanted blouse,
Seventh princess with the slanted hairknot,
Seventh princess wears ivory earrings,
Seventh princess has a yellow scarf,
Persuading the Mayang,
Persuade it with shining nets,
Entreating the Mayang,
Singing with her highness the princess,
Her highness the princess wears a slanted blouse,
Her highness the princess with a slanted hairknot,
Her highness the princess wears ivory earrings,
Her highness the princess has a yellow scarf,
Persuading the Mayang,
Persuade it with nets,
Entreating the Mayang,
Singing with her highness the princess,
I know your origins,
Let those from the hill to return to the hill,
Let those from the lowland to return to the lowland,
I present the coloured rice,
I persuade the Mayang,
Persuade it with shining nets,
I heal with Mayang,
Bringing back to health."
Together, they pondered the words, both drawn into the enigmatic world of the Ulek Mayang. In that shared moment, the bond between them was as palpable as the tropical heat of Terengganu that enveloped their holiday retreat, binding mother and son in their mutual love for discovery and the stories that lay hidden within the folds of history.
Dutton's fingertips hovered over the ancient text, tracing the contours of each foreign character as if by touching them he could absorb their secrets. His gaze, wide with intrigue, flicked back to Anna's face.
"There are seven princesses. Are they siblings?" he asked, his voice tinged with the thrill of a mystery unraveling.
Anna leaned back against the kitchen counter, her posture relaxed despite the sudden interrogation. "Well Dutton, there are many versions of this story, but in my opinion, they are not siblings." A knowing smile played on her lips. "In fact, they have been lying to everyone in Terengganu to protect their own identity."
"Really? So how many are they actually?" Dutton leaned in, elbows resting on the table, his curiosity an unquenched flame.
"Hmm..." Anna paused, her eyes glinting with the reflection of thoughts that danced decades into her past. "Just like numbers, they are endless. They are inaccessible cardinals and absolute infinite." She tapped the paper where another verse hinted at more of the enigma. "In fact, there is even a lyric that mentions Puteri Eight, Puteri Nine, and the list goes on. It's ad infinitum and forevermore."
"Wow, who exactly are these princesses?" Dutton's surprise was palpable, a physical presence in the room as much as the tropical humidity.
"Well, they are said to be supernatural beings, invisible to most humans." Anna's eyes softened, a wistful haze clouding her normally sharp gaze. "Only those with 'spiritual sight' can see them."
She smiled then, an expression rich with nostalgia, as though she were once again the young scholar immersed in her research. "I liked doing this research when I was young."
Dutton nodded, piecing together this new insight with the holiday puzzle. "Well, that explains why we're here on vacation."
"Of course," Anna agreed, standing up straighter, her researcher's demeanor slipping back into place. "But that's not the only reason. I also wanted to show you my favorite place in Terengganu - Payang Central Market."
The mere mention of the market sparked a new energy in Dutton. His eyes lit up, the mischief therein swirling with anticipation. "Ooh, I've heard so much about it. Can we go now?"
Anna chuckled, gesturing towards the staircase with a playful tilt of her head. "Not so fast, my dear. We can go, but only after you finish cleaning."
"Alright," Dutton sighed, the weight of chores momentarily dampening his excitement. He stood from the chair, his lanky frame unfolding like a series of levers and pulleys, and trudged back upstairs to finish his job. The promise of adventure at the market awaited him, a reward for completing his domestic duties, and it coaxed a whistle from his lips as he set about tidying the room with renewed vigor.
***
Dutton's fingers traced the vibrant patterns woven into the fabric of the sarong, his eyes lighting up with the same spark that came whenever he discovered something new. "Mom, look at this sarong! It's so beautiful, I have to buy it!"
Anna's gaze followed his excitement, her smile echoing his enthusiasm. "Oh, that's lovely, Dutton. We can get it for your sister as a souvenir."
Her approval sent a wave of satisfaction through him, and he watched eagerly as the stall owner wrapped the sarong in paper with practiced ease. Flavors and colors swirled around them in an intoxicating dance as they meandered through Payang Central Market's labyrinthine aisles, their senses overwhelmed by the symphony of sights, sounds, and smells.
"Look at these batiks, Mom," Dutton said, pointing to a cascading display of dyed fabrics, but Anna's attention had shifted. She noticed someone in the crowd-a face from the past-and with a gentle touch on his shoulder, she asked him to wait outside while she caught up with her old friend.
"Sure, Mom," Dutton replied, settling onto a bench amid the day's purchases, their bags huddled around him like loyal pets waiting for their next command.
As time ticked by, a tingling sensation crept over Dutton, a shiver that didn't belong to the humid air or the buzz of the market. He scanned the area, his curiosity piqued, but nothing seemed amiss. Shrugging off the feeling, Dutton reached for his water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip before letting his gaze wander once more.
That's when he saw her-the girl who seemed to be a figment of some mythological dream, draped in traditional Malay elegance. "Is she foreigner like me?" he thought, unable to peel his eyes away from her majestic aura. The songket fabric hugged her form gracefully, and each accessory complemented the next, from the bun in her hair down to the cloth gracing her lower body.
Dutton turned his head, feigning disinterest, only to sneak another glance her way. His heart raced; he couldn't explain why, but he felt as though the universe was holding its breath. Then, defying all reason, she walked straight toward him.
"Dutton." Her voice was a melody that knew his name, and his head snapped up in disbelief.
"H-How do you know my name?" he stammered out, his throat tightening.
"They are following you from America," she said, her bright blue eyes holding centuries of secrets.
"Wha-" Before he could finish, she whispered words that would echo in his mind long after she vanished: "We will meet again, Dutton."
His hands trembled as he grappled with reality. Had anyone else seen her? Was she even real?
"Come on, Dutton. Let's go back," Anna said upon returning, oblivious to the encounter that had left her son visibly shaken.
"Let's go," he managed to reply, the sweat on his brow betraying his attempt at normalcy.
He gathered the shopping bags in haste, pushing past the bewilderment that threatened to consume him, while Anna looked on, her confusion evident in the crinkle of her forehead. Something had unsettled Dutton, and although he wasn't ready to share it, the market's colorful chaos now hid a mystery that would unravel in due time.
***
Anna Smith's hands moved rhythmically as she chopped vegetables, the knife's steady thud against the cutting board a comforting cadence in the warm kitchen. Wisps of steam curled from the pots simmering on the stove, filling the room with the savory scent of herbed chicken and roasted garlic. A halo of soft light framed her chestnut brown hair, which was pulled back loosely, stray waves framing the determined set of her jaw.
The back door creaked open, and Dutton shuffled in, his lanky frame seeming to slump with each step. He sank into a chair at the kitchen table, his eyes distant, his usual mischievous spark dimmed under a weight that bowed his young shoulders. Anna turned at the sound, a bright smile ready on her lips.
"Oh, there you are. Dinner is almost ready, I hope you're hungry," she said, her voice carrying the warmth of a hug.
Dutton looked up slowly, his gaze not quite meeting hers, the gears behind his bright blue eyes grinding through thoughts she wasn't privy to. "Ah, yes. Dinner smells delicious, mom," he replied, but his words hung in the air, hollow.
Anna's smile faltered, replaced by the furrow of concern between her brows. She placed the knife down and wiped her hands on a dish towel before approaching him. "Is everything alright, Dutton?" she asked gently, leaning against the table to peer into his face.
"Ah, I'm okay, mom. I'm just tired," Dutton managed, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes, his gaze skittering away like pebbles kicked across pavement.
"Okay," Anna responded, though her instincts screamed that it was anything but. She returned to the stove, casting glances over her shoulder as they ate in a silence punctuated only by the soft clink of cutlery.
Dutton pushed his food around his plate, his mind ensnared by the enigmatic girl he'd met earlier—the one with haunting words about being followed. 'Who are "they" that following me from America?' he pondered, his appetite stolen by the riddle wrapped in a foreign accent.
Once dinner concluded, Dutton excused himself, his legs heavy as he trudged upstairs. The hallway seemed to stretch longer than he remembered, shadows clinging to the edges like whispers. He reached for his bedroom doorknob, fingertips grazing the cool metal, and felt an inexplicable shiver race up his spine—goosebumps blooming across his skin. 'This feeling again?' he thought, a chill of anticipation tightening his chest.
With a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Dutton pushed the door open. His room, usually a sanctuary of posters and scattered clothes, was now a tableau of surreal beauty. There, standing before him, were ten girls, each adorned in the rich textures of long-sleeved songket shirts and scarves cinching their waists, their presence an ethereal intrusion. Their accessories—a bun in their hair, earrings catching the lamplight, and flowing songket cloth—gave them an air of otherworldly grace.
His heart ricocheted against his ribs, thunderous in the stillness. Dutton's eyes widened, absorbing the impossible sight. Among them stood the mysterious girl he'd encountered, her smile soft yet cryptic, reaching out to him across the chasm of the unknown.
