Yoemon

In The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, the sunset is a currency; it buys you stories, inspiration, or a moment of peace. The mages in the dark fortress dismiss Yoemon as a harmless eccentric, a collector of light who trades sketches of colorful monoliths for a meal. To the villagers near the foothills, they are a welcome sight. They say Yoemon's charm can coax a song from a stone and that their old head warmer carries the scent of every season. But a young gem-cutter once saw Yoemon alone, long after the last light faded. They weren't sketching or singing. They were just watching the road south, their mouth set in that familiar, uneasy line, as if waiting for someone who was never coming back.