Chapter 1
"Careful! Don't damage it!" Dr. Aris's voice, strained with urgency, cut through the din of scraping tools and excited whispers. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing the canopy, illuminated by the halogen lamps. The air, thick with the scent of damp earth and ancient decay, vibrated with an unseen energy.
"I see it! Just... a bit more clearance on the right!" Dara, her own voice a hoarse whisper of pure adrenaline, barely registered the ache in her knees from hours spent hunched over. Her fingers, usually steady, trembled as she gently brushed away millennia of sediment. "Budi, hold that support. Don't let it shift. Aris, what are the readings doing?"
"Spiking, Dara! Off the charts! It’s like a localized magnetic storm, but… organic? I've never seen anything like it," Aris replied, his usual academic detachment replaced by raw awe. "Whatever it is, it's alive in there."
"Alive?" Budi gasped, his young face pale beneath the dirt. "Professor, the ground… it's vibrating. Is that normal?"
"No, Budi. This isn't normal," Dara murmured, her gaze fixed on the emerging form. It wasn't metal, nor stone. It was a swirling, opaque obsidian, reflecting no light, yet somehow… glowing from within. A deep, resonant hum resonated not just in her ears, but through her very bones. "It's… reacting."
"Reacting to what? Dara, step back!" Aris yelled, fear finally overriding his scientific curiosity. "The energy signature is unstable! You're too close!"
"It's calling to me," Dara whispered, ignoring him. She felt a pull, an undeniable connection to the ancient object. Her theories, once confined to academic papers, were coalescing into a terrifying reality. "Daya Mahapuri. The heart of Nusantara. I knew it. This is it, Aris. This is what we've been looking for." She reached out, her fingers instinctively seeking contact.
"No, Dara! Don't touch it!" Aris’s shout was lost in a sudden, deafening shriek from the depths of the earth.
Her fingertips grazed the surface. It was paradoxically ice-cold and searing hot, a burning touch that simultaneously soothed and scorched. A surge of raw, ancient power flooded her senses. Images, voices, centuries of forgotten history, flashed behind her eyes in a kaleidoscopic frenzy. She saw lush green rice paddies, towering volcanic peaks, bustling port cities, and the faces of countless people—joyous, despairing, defiant.
"Professor, your hand! It's radiating something!" Budi’s voice sounded distant, muffled.
"It's… glorious," Dara gasped, a laugh bubbling up, laced with hysteria. The world tilted. She was everywhere and nowhere, a conduit for something vast and immeasurable. "I understand… I see it all…"
"Dara! Your eyes! They're… glowing! Get back!" Aris screamed, but it was too late. A blinding flash of white light erupted from the artifact, engulfing her, and then, only darkness.
***
"No! Get off me! What is this place? Where is Aris? Budi?" Dara’s voice, raspy and unfamiliar, echoed strangely in the opulent chamber. Her head throbbed, a dull ache behind her eyes. Sunlight, filtered through intricately carved wooden screens, bathed the room in a golden glow, utterly unlike the harsh lamps of the dig site.
A young woman, with eyes wide and dark hair pulled back in a neat bun, leaned over her, her face a mask of concern. "My Lady, please. You must rest. You have been ill."
"Ill? I was just… at the dig! The artifact! Did we get it out? Where is it?" Dara tried to sit up, but her limbs felt heavy, uncooperative. The silken blankets tangled around her, foreign and stifling.
Another attendant, older, with a gentle but firm demeanor, approached the bed. "The Princess speaks of fevers, Kirana. Her mind is still clouded."
"Fevers? What are you talking about?" Dara stared at them, bewildered. "And 'Princess'? Who is 'the Princess'?"
The younger attendant, Kirana, smiled hesitantly. "You, My Lady. Dyah Ayu Pusparani. You have awoken from your long slumber."
"Dyah Ayu what? No, my name is Dara. Dara Permana. Who are you people?" Panic began to bubble in Dara's chest. This wasn't right. This wasn't real.
"She is distressed. Perhaps the royal physician should be called again?" the older attendant, Dewi, suggested softly.
"No, Dewi. She needs calm," Kirana said, her gaze steady. "My Lady, look around you. This is your chamber. The finest in Kediri."
Dara's eyes darted around the room. Intricate patterns adorned the walls, gilded carvings gleamed, and the air smelled of jasmine and something vaguely metallic. No stark concrete walls, no dusty archaeological equipment. This was… ancient. And lavish. "Kediri? That's an ancient kingdom... This can't be real. Is this some kind of prank, Aris? Because it's not funny!"
"There is no 'Aris' here, My Lady. Only your loyal servants," Kirana replied, her voice soothing, but her words only intensified Dara’s growing terror.
"Servants? Are you serious? Where's my phone? My tablet? I need to call someone. Get me out of here!" Dara pushed at the blankets, her legs protesting with a strange weakness.
"Such strength in her delirium! A miracle, after so long," Dewi murmured, sounding genuinely impressed.
"Delirium? I'm not delirious! I'm an archaeologist! I was excavating a site! The Nusantara site! Don't you understand?" Dara pleaded, her voice cracking. "The artifact! The Mahapuri artifact! It was glowing!"
Kirana exchanged a worried glance with Dewi. "Nusantara is our land, My Lady. Always has been. Always will be. And you are its Princess."
"No. No, I'm not," Dara insisted, struggling harder. Her hands, when they finally emerged from the blankets, were slender, pale, adorned with delicate, uncalloused fingers. Not her archaeologist’s hands, scarred and strong. "Let me see my hands. These aren't my hands! What have you done?"
"You are truly recovered, My Lady. Your skin is clear, your nails strong. A true beauty," Kirana said, trying to reassure her.
"Don't touch me! Get away!" Dara recoiled as Kirana reached for her. "Who are these people? Who are *you*?"
"She sees us as strangers. The fever's grip is strong," Dewi sighed, resignation in her tone.
"It's not a fever! This is insane. I need to see myself. Where's a mirror? Show me! NOW!" Dara demanded, her panic rising to a desperate crescendo. The faces of these women, their foreign clothes, the archaic language they spoke, the *room itself*—it was all a terrifying, undeniable reality.
Kirana hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "As you wish, My Lady." She turned, retrieving a polished bronze disc from a nearby table. Its reflective surface, though imperfect, showed a clear image.
Dara snatched it, bringing it close to her face. She stared. Her breath hitched. The face staring back at her was indeed beautiful: delicate jawline, smooth, unblemished skin, large, dark eyes framed by long, elegant lashes, and hair like polished raven wings. It was a face from ancient Javanese reliefs, serene and regal. But it was not *her* face.
"That's... that's not me," Dara whispered, the bronze mirror slipping from her numb fingers. It clanged softly on the silken bedding. "Who is that?"
"It is you, Princess Dyah Ayu. More beautiful than before," Kirana affirmed, her voice filled with quiet reverence.
"No. My face... My hair... This is impossible. What happened to me? How?" Dara stammered, her mind racing, trying to find a rational explanation, any explanation, for the impossible horror unfolding around her.
"The gods have blessed your awakening, My Lady," Dewi chimed in, stepping forward.
"Gods? This is not a blessing. This is... a nightmare." Dara clutched her head, the hum that had resonated at the dig site now a faint echo within her very skull. "I don't... I don't understand. Where am I, truly? What year is this?"
Kirana knelt beside the bed, her expression earnest. "It is the year Saka 1145, My Lady. And you are safe, here in your palace."
Saka 1145... Dara's mind, archaeologist to its core, instantly calculated. That's the 13th century. The reign of King Kertanegara. The end of Singasari. The rise of Kediri... Oh god. This can't be happening. She was trapped. Not in a dream, not in a hallucination. Trapped in a past that was not her own, in a body she did not recognize, centuries away from everything she knew, everything she was. Her breath caught in her throat. She tried to speak, tried to scream, but no sound escaped. Her vision blurred, the opulent chamber swirling into a terrifying vortex as the full, crushing weight of her impossible new reality descended upon her. The chamber doors swung open, a guard bowing low as a tall, imposing figure entered, his face shadowed, his voice deep and commanding, asking...
