The sun finally sank completely below Velvetide’s western horizon, leaving behind a golden-orange glow that slowly faded, painting the sky a deep, tranquil blue. The cold of night began creeping gently down from the peaks of the towering pines, sweeping across the surface of Danau Kaca, so still and beautifully shimmering.
Inside the old cabin, the warmth of the fire in the stone hearth radiated steadily, casting soothing dancing orange shadows across the sturdy wooden walls.
The old man who owned the cabin rose from his seat and strolled toward the corner of the room to retrieve an antique brass oil lantern. With a wooden match, he lit the wick with practiced precision, bringing forth a warm yellow glow that instantly illuminated their teak table with a cozy atmosphere.
"Night in this place always brings a different kind of silence, my boy," the old man said as he set the lantern in the center of the table, beside their earthenware cups. "A lot of people from the city run here just to find some peace, but very few can truly sit still, take it in, and listen to it."
Arka gave a faint, sincere smile, wrapping his warm fingers around the earthenware cup that still held the lingering warmth of the pottery-brewed coffee. "I think I’m finally beginning to understand what you mean, sir. In the city, everything is so loud and busy that we often forget how to listen to ourselves."
The old man nodded slowly, leaning his back against the wooden chair. "Stay here tonight," the old man offered in a voice warm with kindness. "There’s a comfortable wooden sleeping space in the little loft upstairs. Tomorrow morning, the thin mist over the lake will be the most beautiful sight you could see while brewing yourself some hot tea."
Arka didn’t need to think twice before nodding in agreement. "Thank you very much, sir. That’s a truly generous and meaningful offer."
After they finished the last earthenware coffee pot, Arka took the initiative to help tidy the earthenware cups and carefully place them on the wooden shelf beside the water spout. The old man merely watched with a warm smile beneath the arch of his silver mustache.
Arka then climbed the small wooden steps, which creaked softly beneath him, toward the cabin’s loft. The room beneath the roof smelled of pure pinewood and a distinctive natural fragrance. A thick folding mattress covered with a warm brown knitted blanket had already been neatly spread beneath the slightly open skylight, allowing the fresh night air to drift gently inside.
Arka draped his jacket over a nearby spot, crawled onto the bed, and rested his back against the soft cushion. Through the opening in the skylight, he could see stars scattered across Velvetide’s vast night sky—so clear, so bright, and seemingly close enough to reach with his hand.
The chirping of night crickets and the gentle flap of an owl’s wings in the distance became the sweetest lullaby. Arka reached for his grandfather’s old notebook and wrote down a few brief lines before extinguishing the little lantern beside him.
In the warm, peaceful, undisturbed darkness of night, Arka pulled his brown knitted blanket up over his chest. For the first time in years, he closed his eyes without a burden weighing on him, without anxiety about tomorrow, welcoming the deepest, most peaceful, restorative sleep beside Velvetide’s lake.