The old lady held Aria's hands tightly while pleading with her to go back to the land of the living. The Greater Coucal bird is known in Aria's tribe legend to be crying for dead souls. Their coos symbolizing their sorrowful wails. Since they were unable to save souls that have crossed the narrow bridge to the land of the dead.

'Maybe if she cleans up her house then the souls would have stopped by her house instead of going straight to the narrow bridge.'

Aria shakes her head but does not dare to say the words directly to the sad old lady in front of her.

"I do not have anyone left in the world that cares about me. So I want to cross the bridge since at least I can live with my grandmother in the netherworld."

Aria smiles bitterly because she does not want to go back into the world where everyone could not wait to stab her back. Both figuratively and literally.

"I understand your decision. You can cross the narrow bridge and make sure to not fall into the whirlpool jet black river underneath. Your soul will be transported into the unknown."

The old lady gives Aria one last hug before waving her goodbye from the steps of her house.

The bridge is only enough for one foot at a time and there is no railing on each side. The wind makes Aria's thin body sway as she is trying her best to not fall down to the eerie-looking river.

By the time Aria almost reaches the other side, there she starts to see thousands of ships and boats of a variety of sizes by the river bank. Sounds of music from traditional instruments begin to liven up the blood-curdling ambiance. Crowds can be seen lining up by the river banks. Everyone is wearing fancy and beautiful outfits. There are men in tuxedos and ladies in gowns as well as in traditional costumes that are only worn during festivals.

"Grand-grandmother?"

A recognizable silhouette wearing the same gown that Aria has chosen for grandmother's funeral can be seen waving. However, after focusing on her vision then Aria realizes that her grandmother is signaling for her to go back instead of welcoming her.

"W-why grandmother? I have no one else there?"

Glass beads forming a pool in both of her eyes.

Disturbed by the idea that her grandmother not welcoming her presence has made Aria lost her focus. In a split second, she lost her balance and she was swallowed by the dark pit filled fluid.

'Ouch! My head hurts.'

Sharp throbbing pain lingering at the back of her head. Aria woke up in a strange room with a heavy musty odor. Once she adjusted to the dim-lit room, she saw a bunch of people being crammed together. Yet there she is sitting in a corner while trying to understand the language of the people around her.

Hugging her tiny backpack like it is her last lifeline. Seeing that some of the people were being pulled out from the room, she kept her head down so that she would not be picked next. No matter how much she tries to blend in yet her white dress has made Aria stand out from the rest.

A rustling sound can be heard as one burly man walks towards her. Immense pain can be felt on her forearms as the man drags her out of the dimly lighted room. Aria manages to comprehend the words coming from the people in the captivities.

"She will be dead soon. It is a pity since she is too beautiful which is a curse on its own."

Knowing that crying and resisting tend to make the kidnaper get agitated thus Aria willingly follows the person. The bright light blinded her for a good moment as they went out of the building that appeared to be a warehouse. After blinking her soft eyelids multiple times then she is greeted by a sight of a familiar longhouse that belongs to one of a tribe in Borneo.

'Seem like I can talk some sense to these people since I am from the same tribe. No wonder I can understand their language. Although it has some ancient words which no one apart from the magical shaman use in their daily life.'

Aria is having a hard time to follow the man's long strides and occasionally stumbles along with her steps. Few shallow laceration wounds and bits of dried blood can be seen on her exposed feet.

'Dang it. Why did I have to lose my high heels back then? I should have worn sneakers instead. At least it will be snug comfortably on me.'

Her mouth gape as they get closer to the longhouse. The pillars are fully made of Belian wood or also known as Borneo ironwood. The structure looks sturdy despite standing on long stilts. The roof is made of thick palm leaves that are closely tied together. She roughly measures that the longhouse length is about 500 meters.