In the dead of night a small child was crying under the moonlit blanket of a world called Ethura. His parents lay beneath his palms in a pool of crimson. He didn't know how this had happened - one moment he and his parents had been having a wonderful time at the festival , and the next , everything just went dark . no sound came from his parents . just the cold , unfeeling bodies that were once his protectors - his shields of comfort , his light - now lay cold in the moons embrace. After a long while, the child's eyes glowed gold , and something unexpected happened. He stopped crying. He looked… lost."
