On a boundless plain composed entirely of black, white, and gray, a disorderly, chill wind never ceased to sweep across the land.
Waves of grass rolled on and off; strange bi-colored plants swayed their lifeless limbs in the wind.
Tiny motes of faint light rose from the grass from time to time and drifted above the wastes like lost souls, wandering in this forsaken realm of the dead.
The whole country lay shrouded beneath a dim sky that was almost like night.
There was neither thick fog nor clouds above, only a whirlwind of murky, swirling tint that never stills.
The Lost Homeland and the Brilliant Star slid silently across the endless wastes.
The scene was inexplicable — Lady Lucretia had sent two tin men off the ship to inspect the “land” outside and had confirmed that beneath the rolling grass there was indeed solid ground.
Yet the two ships still sailed upon that ground; the hulls below the waterline seemed to sink into the earth as if they were afloat at sea.
It was as if the concepts of “ocean” and “waste” had merged here in some uncanny way.