Standing on the cliff with the moon being quickly enveloped within the storm clouds, the young girl wonders what she has wrought. The grass blows in pulsating waves like liquid marble, giving her vertigo. As she dizzily teeters towards the steep drop, an ancient hand grabs her cloak from behind.
She is spun around and is blinded by a sharp light radiating from a point just higher than her head. As the light wanes, she finds an elderly face looking down at her disapprovingly. With a swift movement of his arm, he hurtles her away from the edge of the cliff and into the roots of a nearby tree, which cushions her fall.
Her rough hands grasp the roots and her arms feebly push against the wind, placing her in a hunched position. The air inside the canyon has become a swirling vortex of white clouds that face her like a giant eye. The light streams around her now on both sides, leaving her inside a deep black triangle whose apex ends the man standing before her.
He is facing the cloud eye with his arms up high. Even in the shadow, she can see his cloak is more ragged and stained than hers. She brushes back the hair pasted near her left eye and struggles towards him. Midway on her journey, she stumbles onto her fists into the grass. A weathered hand grabs her chin forcefully and pulls her face up.
“Run, you fool. The dragons are coming!”
What in the world does this have to do with Team Sekol?