After god-knows-how-long of being lost in the forest, deprived of food and water, you started to lose hope and energy. You collapsed while traversing, your senses starting to deteriorate.

This is it -- my death, you thought, your brain a fuzz. You hear a faint plucking of a harp in the distance.

It must be my imagination, you concluded, but after the source of music was right in front of you, a guardian angel, you took it back.

"You must be lost." He spoke with a soothing gaze, his aura glistening the dark plain.