Bab 91: 91. The Three Flutes and Primeval Isle

The darkness of the night had passed, and the dawn's light arrived. A gentle breeze carrying the morning dew swept through the slightly open window, brushing softly against the face of a sleeping figure and gradually waking him. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing pitch-black eyes that now gazed upon the bitter reality of the world once more.

Staring blankly at the ceiling made of lontar leaves and dried reeds, the nameless young man could sense that his body had recovered considerably. He still felt somewhat weak, but the exhaustion from yesterday had faded, and the searing pain that had tormented him was now completely gone.