It had been a long time since Barlow had left this region. In another chapter of his existence, he had lived as a nomad. Traveling from country to country, seeing and learning as much as he could. During his wanderings, he had what one may call a fated encounter. In the hillside villages of Ule, he had learned of a strange apparition that roamed the land. The villagers warned him that after dusk, encounters with the spirit could precede harsh circumstances and that it was best to avoid the surrounding area during these hours. Barlow, however, was not easily dissuaded and knew that omens merely warned of events rather than caused them. To him, even a dark omen was a boon. If one knew ahead of time that there were worse days to come, they could prepare. One evening as the sun was setting, he bade farewell to his concerned hosts and ventured back into the land, hoping that he may lay eyes on the specter. The night was particularly dark, thick clouds covered the sky and the sliver of a waning moon occasionally trickled through. His eyes, though, were sharp. Peering through the darkness, he searched for the figure of a man. What he found instead, was a speck of light at the bottom of a nearby valley, beneath a massive tree.