Meanwhile, Safir gazed into the haze ascending from the
groundless black they knew as End of the World.
'There cannot be any living', he said by hisself.

But there he was, sent out as last hope of his tribe.
Safir nervously touched the Ring of Ritornel and listened.
Nothing. He shook his wings as sign of embarrassment when
he realized how spurious his instinctive longing for
advice happened to be here, so far from home. His neckchains
started to pulsate in amusement, tomorrow when Zaratan had raised
to the zenith, he'll recharge his energies and meditate. In the
shadow of a second he calmed down, sank into crystalline condition,
locked to just wait for a certain key in the eternal cosmic melody.