Hawk flies above the clearing in the woods, below is the stone tablet marking the final resting of a nameless figure, rooted and leafed he does not watch, he, like all plants, simply feels. And he feels the sorrow of the child now seeking guidance from an ancient treant. He asks, 'Little A'ir, why do you cry?'
A terrible civil war haunted the wooden lands, fought by the Lusaan rebels led by a ruthless warlord against the Ursaan, claimed to have been a move to take back power from the supposed rulers. The war ended when one captain struck down the revolutionary warlord near an unnamed outpost. 17 years later, a young boy living in this same village bears the blood of both races, but is the revolution truly laid to rest? Or will the demons born from battle return to finish what was started years ago?
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