Kilometers above, Pü woke up just as the amber star disappeared below the horizon. The child had grown to about 1.90 meters tall, the average height of a male Zorai. Seven years had passed since he had returned from his forced ritual exile. Seven years that had allowed his doubts to subside. Gradually, and in spite of the deep disagreement that opposed him to his father and brother, the young homin's convictions had begun to touch some members of the tribe: according to him, it was necessary to stop blindly following the precepts of the Black Cult of Ma-Duk, without disowning the Great Genitor. Moreover, despite his father's insistent requests, Looï and Grandmother Bä-Bä did not take sides and let things happen without intervening. To mark his opposition, the Black Mask had refused to allow his youngest son to receive the tattoos of merit which, in principle, came to complete the one received on return from exile by every Black Warrior. But for Pü, all that mattered little. He was not dreaming of  the advent of the Happy Days, he was already living them, with his mother. For the young idealist, everything was going well, and there was nothing to suggest that under his feet, the most terrible enemy of hominkind was waking up…}}