You are a little over a day’s walk into the forest when you come across a clearing. The clearing is eerily pristine, and the forest stops in a perfect ring around a small hill, on top of which sits an aging stone monument. Rain and time have taken their toll on the stone, but otherwise the clearing has been fastidiously maintained. No moss has been allowed to grow on the stone pillars, no debris litters the hill. Wind whistles around the monument, and you think you hear a voice? Is someone singing?