The sailor lay completely silent, motionless amongst the black and white tall grass, imagining himself to have already become a real corpse.
The wind blew chaotically from all directions, stirring the wilderness grasses into swirling waves, among which faint sounds seemed to gradually emerge—sounding like distant murmurs, indistinct conversations, vague sighs, and ethereal melodies like music.
The sailor closed his eyes, allowing the calm of the dead to engulf him, submerging himself in this endless wilderness.
Agatha held her staff, slowly circling the sailor three times. The runes on the ground lit up under her steps, and the pale flames gradually emitted a bright glow before she stopped again near the sailor's head, inserting her staff into the ground and slowly spreading her arms.
