he sun smashed down upon the poor settlers of Diamond Ridge. Their hearts beat faster than their worn hammers and axes. Molding, beating, and chopping. All in the life of the villagers. Their sweat irrigated the weary land they stood upon. Despite these influences, each man and woman went home knowing they had a good day. Amongst these hard workers was young Avion. He was around ten years old but with every tree that he fell, he gained maturity. Even though he was growing older, nothing could revive his youth like a good story. Avion and most of the men would loiter around a weak fire deep in the night. They would talk story until their throats burned. Every person somehow came up with new material. This night was slightly off though. The men were shaken by the presence of an uncommon memb