I awoke under a tree. Its heavy limbs were wrapped around my ankles. I could only guess how many years I had slept there. My hair was tattered, my heart ached, my clothing was ripped, and my skin burned from the hillside sun flares. I stumbled down the road in a fog toward the oddest pulsing sounds in the distance—something I had never heard before. Hypnotic and beautiful, they made me wonder where I was. Everything seemed different and unfamiliar.

I came upon a sign that read “Bok,” which I later came to call home. It was a small town on the outskirts of Evermore, nestled in the hills. I settled here and began writing a story—my story—in this place that made me feel whole again. Certainly, no one could understand the events that brought me here, not even me, though small flashes of liquid pain still run through my blood. But I am no longer attached to the reasons for the surge. I find peace in the song and music of the “Warmoths”—at least, that’s what I call them now.

These days, I’m quicker, and my metal wits are as sharp as a laser cutting through the darkness of doubt and fear. I am awake for the first time in a while. There was dried blood on the tree beside me that fateful day I awoke on the hill; it said “Diamonds Hadder.” I don’t know what it means, but I guess time will tell. I dream a lot, and it’s difficult to know the difference between this "real" world and the place of my dreams. But that’s okay; both will take me to the same place in the end. I know only one way to be, and I’ll honor that dream as long as I can. Have wings, will fly. Hope to see you soon on that hill. Good luck to you, and godspeed. - J