On an old tree stump, at the top of a hill, sat an old man. For as long as he could remember, whenever circumstance allowed, he would find the best spot he could to watch the sunrise, and so here he sat. His worn staff lying in the grass nearby, his white beard resting on his chest, and a thick book lying closed on his lap. Soon, the first rays of golden light broke across the horizon, casting the small village below in the peaceful morning light. He smiled, opened his book, and began to read.

It wasn’t long until his peace was interrupted, by a familiar sound. He looked up and saw a small group of children coming up the hill. They were laughing and playing, it warmed his old heart to see such happy youth.

“Hello young ones,” he said as they approached, “have you really come all this way, just to listen to an old man’s tales?”

“Yes!” they cheered.

“Tell us more about the fae, Mister,” said a little girl, who danced around, imagining gossamer wings.

“No, I want hear about the mighty dragons! Rawr!“ said an older boy, who then pretended to eat the other children.

“Well I want to hear about the great heroes, who saved the world from evil,” said another, but younger, boy, who raised an imaginary sword against the dragon.

The old man laughed, “Well now, maybe I can find something everyone can enjoy,” He flipped through his book, and placed his finger on a page, “Ah here we go, this is a good one! I ask you; Do you know of the great city of Ariva, the city of wonders, heart of the great Arivian empire?”

“No,” they answered, “What’s that?”

“Well, let us start at the beginning,

“A very long time ago, the world of Ikass was very different than the world you know today. It was a world of endless conflict, where all people had to fight to survive. But then, a miracle happened, down the River Rusk, and through the Wending Way, past the great sea and the Glass Isles, there is exotic land of sand and of a deep magic. On this land a single man appeared, he looked upon a world in chaos and vowed that there would be peace. And from that spot a great city was born, Ariva, the City of Wonders. People from all across Ikass were drawn to the desert city, to marvel at its wonder, for it seemed that the city itself was alive, its spirit thick with magic.

“The man was proud of his creation, but it was only the beginning. Soon other cities grew all across Ikass, from each his mighty army, born of the same magic as the cities themselves, set out on of wings of stone to bring peace to the world. Those who resisted change faded into history, and a new era was born, one of peace and prosperity for all.

“Untold ages passed, and the man thought his peace would last forever. But suddenly, he vanished, no one knew where he went or why he had gone, but he was not gone long. When he returned he was changed forever. His great power was gone, and so he retreated within Ariva and shut it off from outsiders. The great cities he had created fell, one by one, into ruin. The stone gargoyles that once protected Ikass from danger grew erratic in their behavior, becoming a danger themselves. But still Ariva stood, gates barred from the outside world.

“One night, a gang of Orcs broke their way into Ariva, and to their surprise, they found people still living within. They fought their way through the city, and into the throne room. There they saw what little remained of the great man who once brought peace to Ikass. In the throne sat a being made of little more than grey skin stretched over bone, the lich stared angrily at the intruders, and spoke deeply, his voice echoing in their minds.

‘You shall not have my city,’ With those words, he gathered up all the mana he could and with one final desperate push, he cast Ariva into the blind eternities.”

“What’s the blind eternities?” asked the little girl. All the children sat silently, transfixed on the old man, he looked up quickly as if awakened from a trance.

“What did you ask dear?” he said.

“What’s the blind enterizys? she asked again. He sighed.

“Well lets see, the blind eternities are the spaces between worlds, between ideas, and time.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” exclaimed the dragon boy. The old man laughed.

“Of course it doesn’t!,” He looked up and noted the sun, it was high in the sky, “Now you three better head home before your parents come looking for you.”

“Bye!” they said as they ran off, only the little girl hesitated. She looked at the old man, and he looked at her, he sensed something in her, and maybe she sensed it in him too, a special spark that only one in a million are blessed with. He smiled.

“Goodbye, little one,” and she turned and ran after the others. For awhile he sat alone on the hilltop, flipping to the final pages of the book. Listed here was a long list of names gathered throughout the multiverse, carefully he wrote in the little girl’s name. He shut his book, and, picking up his staff from the grass, he got to his feet. He looked out once again on the small village below, trying to make the image last. With a smile on his face and joy in his heart Raleris planeswalked into the unknown.