Once, in ages past, there was an old, wise mystic travelling through the mountains. She had been alone for a number of days when, early one morning, she came across a precious stone in one of the highest mountain streams. It caught her eye, glinting in a manner unlike any of the others, and she retrieved it, marvelling at its beauty. It was a rare stone indeed, and she knew many of the merchants would trade their very homes and all their possessions for the gem, so great was its value in the marketplace. Far beyond the allure of riches, however, its sheer delicacy and elegance was something to behold. Holding it up to the sun, it seemed nearly ethereal in how it filtered and refracted the morning light. Marking her fortune, she offered a silent prayer and slipped the stone into her pouch, continuing on her way.
Soon after, she met another traveller along the path, a young man who was hungry and tired and looking for food. They spoke briefly, the old mystic inviting him to share in her rations over a small meal. Over the course of their communion, they traded stories, the wise woman learning that the young man was coming from the same town that she was headed to, the place...
