In a world far, far away, at the furthest reaches of the Great Dark Beyond, there once lived a boy named An'ton. He was young, just having crossed the second half of his second decare, though still far from its end. He was young enough to still receive education and be cared by his family, yet neither was possible. For An'ton's world was not like ours.
Much like the Outland, his world was a shattered one for so long that no one could remember if foul magic had brought it to its state, or if it had always been like this. A flat ring hovered in the vast darkness, bereft of sunlight, bereft of stars. They did not exist in that sky. For that reason, as if evolution had taken mercy upon the people residing atop that barren rock, the skin of the people was dark and their figures slight so to evade danger of beasts within the shadows. Flame was a rare commodity, yet the people of that world had no need for it beyond warmth; their eyes could very well see in the dark.
Yet, still much like the Outland, a beautiful city rose in the middle of that morbid world on an isle in the middle of the ring, a jewel amidst coals. Its name was the City of Lights. Unlike Shattrath though, which name is similar, it possessed the glory of no Naaru. The brilliant light was rising from the streets, the walls, reflected as if everything in it had been made from crystals that kept within them the radiance of myriads of suns. Its light reached at the rest of the world in a taunting manner, no different than that of the full moon when it makes its appearance on the heavens. It left the people of that world yearning what stood out of their reach.
An'ton was no different. Time and time again he would dream of reaching the bright city which held immeasurable beauty and the promise of a better life. When he could afford it, he would stand at the edge of the ring which was his world and try to come up with ways to cross the gap of Nether separating him from his one desire.
And so he would perform his daily duty, collecting stones for the houses of the village, before returning to his family at the end of work for a meagre meal and to ease each other's pain. His father, a hunter once, had broken his bones on a hunt several years ago, thus could no longer provide for the family and the community. His wife, An'ton's mother, remained behind to aid him. The burden of providing for the family thus fell on the shoulders of their son.
One would expect that such parents would attempt to limit their son's dreams regarding the City of Lights, yet loving as they were, they only wished the best for their child, to see his dreams realised. So every time before rest, they would patiently hear him repeat his dream of reaching the radiant city and encourage him to do so. No price would be too small.
So days and months would go by like that, with dreams being nothing but that; they were coming no closer to being achieved than the day before. For how could they? How could the great void between the slabs of earth be crossed?
Until one day, a Wise Man visited An'ton's village. Such was no rare thing of course. Those were males or females skilled in the mystic arts, having tapped into the great forces of the Great Dark Beyond which surrounds every world. They were always old, carrying the experience of a lifetime, with long white hair and rich beards. Often enough, they would travel to several villages, performing healing spells, blessing the strong and offering their wisdom for some food.
The Wise Man had been offered a small cabin at the edge of the village. So one day, after the end of his work, An'ton did not head to his family, but headed there instead. He treaded carefully in the darkness and knocked at the Wise Man's door.
The figure who greeted him was no different than most Wise Men. He was skinny and frail, his eyes half-shut from age. Deep wrinkles and moles marred his dark skin. Though he had no hair hidden beneath his rugged hood, his white beard was so long that it touched the ground. Additionally, in order to walk, he required the aid of a wooden staff. He was indeed old, but by no means senile. When An'ton set eyes upon him, he was fascinated with how someone so weak could possess the great knowledge of the Great Dark Beyond.
But the feeling of wonder was not meant to end there. A wonderful sense of warmth greeted the boy as he entered the old man's cabin. His eyes, which most of the time saw darkness, were nearly blinded by the dim light of a small fire burning at the makeshift hearth at the edge of the room. It had been years since the last time An'ton had seen flames, so the sight bewildered him. Eagerly did he step towards them to greedily collect the warmth provided.
The Wise Man watched this intrigued, though it was not the first time that he had seen people react to fire like that. He took a seat on an old stool near the boy and set his hand on An'ton's shoulder. "How can I help you, young man?" he asked.
An'ton looked at the elder, the wisdom within his dark, weary eyes and spoke without hesitation. "Wise Man," he said. "I want to reach the City of Lights, yet there is no way for me to cross the endless nether between here and there. Surely a master of all magic like you has a way to make it happen."
The old one pondered for a while, scratching his beard. Eventually, he leaned forward and let his hand dive within the flames of the hearth. But surprisingly, they did not burn his skin. Astounded, An'ton watched as the Wise Man searched within the poor weeds and the coals in order to recover a stone. Its colour was dark and red, like that of wine. Though when it was handed to An'ton, he found an odd comfort in its warmth, which did not burn, nor fade.
"This stone will take you where you wish to be." the Wise Man told him. "You will walk upon the nether and not fall. But the longer you keep this stone near you and use its power, the more it will take from you. Nor will you ever be able to go back. Are you certain you wish to embark on such a journey?"
An'ton seemed hesitant at first. But then he looked at the orange flames in front of him, so beautiful and welcoming and remembered the bright radiance of the City of Lights. He remembered his family, telling him never to give up on finding a better life for himself. And so he nodded.
"Then I give you my blessing, child." uttered the Wise Man. "May you never regret your choice. May you reach the City of Lights and bathe in its glory."
And so, An'ton left the Wise Man's cabins, keeping the stone close as if afraid that he would lose it. Its warmth remained against his palms, comforting and pure. He let it touch his face and his skinny chest, never wanting this sensation to end. But oh - he could imagine how much more strongly he would feel all those things in the City of Lights. And that hastened his stride.
He returned to his family, eager to explain to them what gift the Wise Man had given them. He showed them a stone and let them touch it, before fond farewells were spoken. Tears were not absent, but in spite of the sorrow in their hearts, his mother and father gave him their blessing as well.
At long last, the time came that the young man treaded to the edge of the rock ring that was his world, looking in the distance. At the canvas of a starless, sunless and moonless sky, only the brilliance of the City of Lights broke the black monotony. His heart fluttered. And with the stone kept tightly in his fingers, An'ton stepped into the nothingness.
But just as the Wise Man had claimed it would be, he did not fall. His feet fell steady, as a bridge of coals made is appearance beneath him. Yet with the second step he took, the link that stood behind him vanished. Even so, he did not look back, nor let all he was leaving behind stop him. He kept walking above the void, his eyes locked on his beautiful destination that spelled out eternal happiness.
Yet just as the Wise Man had also warned him, with every part of distance that he covered in his long journey, the stone started taking something from him. With every price paid, its temperature grew colder.
First it took nothing all too important for it was material. His cloak made by furs of the land's beasts and weaved by his ancestors turned into ash, which was siphoned by the stone. He felt the cold of the Great Dark Beyond close all around him, but his destination was just ahead, so he kept pacing with determination.
Then it took his ability to have peaceful dreams. Terrible demons and shapeless horrors would come to his head every time he closed his eyes, eager to find some rest, but that did not phase him either. He was wary, true, but all that would come to an end once the City of Lights would be reached. He would need no rest there. Each moment would be one of wonder.
It even took the lives of his beloved parents. A vision vividly flashed before his eyes of a famine which had suddenly befallen his village after his departure. They had died in their sleep peacefully, embraced and with the thought of their son at heart. Sorrow haunted him and anguish tormented him, but he held onto the memory of his family's blessing and kept walking ahead, not wanting to let their sacrifices be in vain.
By now, the stone had become colder than ice, hurting An'ton's fingers. What once was wonderful and dear had become a burden, a curse which had to be carried. For if he let go, he would fall. If he let go, all that he had lost would matter no more. If he let go, he would never reach the City of Lights.
The stone also took his happiest memories of a childhood amidst the community of his village. It took his strength, leaving his each step breathless. It took his peace, leaving him a wretched thing walking above the void. Yet no matter how much it siphoned from him, it could not steal his strong will and determination, that certainty that all would be recovered once he reached the City of Lights. Thus he kept going, never once wavering. Never once looking back.
Until eventually, just a step separated him from the piece of land on which the brilliant city was built. He could at long last see it. Radiant gates rose around breath-taking domes forged by crystals that emitted golden light. It reached out at the barren land as a sign of hope, welcoming a weary traveller. The sweetest music An'ton's ears had ever heard could distantly be caught coming from the city, as well as laughter, happiness, comfort, all that he had ever desired to find.
But just before that final step could be taken, the stone asked for yet another price. An'ton looked at it as it rested in his hands, making his skin ache.
"I have nothing else to give you." he said. "You took it all. All that I ever had and ever mattered to me. All that I had for the taking. There is nothing more."
"Not all." a soft voice whispered from the depths of the stone. "You have not given me your soul. It burns so brilliantly, more than this city ahead. It is the final price, fair and ultimate."
And so, it took it, for the stone could not be denied. An'ton made that final step, freeing a hand to stretch it towards the gates of the city. They shivered and gave in, revealing all that he had ever wished to be part of. Warm light showered him benevolently at those final moments, but in the end his body fell lifeless on the ground with his fingers reaching out for what they had failed to reach.
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