In the land of Antegia, long before the arrival of the Ellessarian refugees, there lived a simple folk. One of their children loved to hear stories around the communal fire about the magical creatures and divinity that existed in the world. He would often turn and look into the dark night and fill the blackness with his imagination until the cold forced him to turn back towards the warm flame. One day he took up his spear and announced to his family that he was heading into the steppes to find the home of the fabled little folk.

Being of age his father and mother sent him along his way hoping at best that he would return in a few days a little wiser for his troubles. The young man said his goodbyes and crossed the village boundary. He followed the shepherd trails for a few days searching for some sign of the little folk. At sunset he would stop and make a fire to warm himself and keep away the hungry.

On the Eighth day he began to turn around to return to the village when out of the corner of his eye he saw a ring of stones. Instantly he knew that this was the sign he had been searching for. Entering the stone ring he stood and looked about hoping that he was right and the magic folk would welcome him with open arms.

Nothing happened.

The young man continued to wait for many days. On the fourth day of his stone circle vigil the wolves found him huddled beside the embers of his dying fire. Weak from hunger and outnumbered by the pack the young man could not fight off the circling wolves. After the wolves took what they wanted the other animals of the steppe fed and nurtured themselves upon his corpse. When all that remained of the young man was his bones and his spirit the little folk appeared and took those for themselves.