Patches of dark clouds hung as if suspended by the fingers of an emerging, crescent moon. Drums throbbed in the heart of the land, a cast of round thatched abodes crowned with unexplainable symbols of peace, yet bearing impressions of horror. Pradai lay offshore, the winds blowing like whistles, making a rhythm of no life.

The young girl only knew what her mission was and that she had accomplished it. But then what? How does she get out of this unknown place? She didn't even know where her journey had brought her. All she could remember was getting down the mountains after taking the Book of Santacas, which was still with her. On this island, she knew not how she got there; perhaps it was the mystic power she had just obtained, she concluded. She couldn't sense nor seem to know where the road to home led.

"I am certainly lost in this wilderness," Pradai muttered, trying to get up from her laying spot, thinking it was all a dream, and that when she got up, she would be coming out of her illusion. She didn't believe she had left her home, peaceful and full of life, for an obsolete island, more or less a deserted village. Her thought of defeat brought along a realization that something was wrong. There was no way she could finish the finals. Poor girl—couldn't even feel herself. "I must be going insane, perhaps I should look around to see if I could get anything for shelter first, and wait for the morning light before tracing my way back home."