A/N: This is just a little story put together at the last minute by me and my fabulous partner in fic collaborations, the amazing jeweledwings. There are a lot of plot holes and such, but we only wrote this the night before we were supposed to pass this for school, and so on. Feedback is always appreciated.

Warnings: severely excessive comma use, extremely pretentious writing, gaping plot holes…but these don't matter, right?

Disclaimer: Do you seriously think we erected the infamous Great Wall of China?

…

Well.

Once upon a time, in a land famed far and wide, there lived an old storyteller who sat around the fire. The fire crackled and sputtered, casting different faces in to light as the witch, as the old woman was known, began her tale.

"It is said that when the moon is full,

And the night is dark and deep

The spirits come out and roam the Earth

While everyone's asleep.

The spirits, they say, are bound to this land

Because of an evil and wicked curse,

And only by the purest soul

Can it ever be reversed.

That chosen must travel to a land far away

To a place that no human can see

And there he will hear, in the midst of the gloom,

The bound spirits' heartbreaking plea.

Then that soul must erect, by the power of his heart,

A wall that will serve as a gate.

He will lead the spirits to the place they belong,

But his own death will be his fate."

She told of the story night and day without tire, for she hoped that their savior was near, and would overhear this story heard by so many people all across the land. No one knew how long she had waited, and she never stayed at one place for a long time. The wizened woman was immortal, the stories went, with memories as old as time. But even she would never forget the day when someone had stumbled from the bushes after she had finished her chant. It was ironic, she would think, looking back, the night had been dark, but it was the dawn of a new beginning.

Standing in front of her was a young man, looking at her with a strange expression on his face. There was something different about him, too, something she couldn't quite place a wizened finger on. It seemed her possessed an aura of pure brightness. As she continued to stare at him, a sudden realization struck her. At that moment, she knew that all her toil and trouble was worth it. She knew, without a doubt, that the spirits would be saved. If only this boy would take that great responsibility…

"Hey! Old woman! Do you have any food?!"

The wizened one blinked, staring at the boy as if he was crazy. This was her chosen one?

The boy took a few steps forward, and then plopped down on the ground. Pulling himself up to a sitting position, he kept his head bowed and murmured, "I heard your story…"

The old woman relaxed; this was more like it. "You are, very clearly, the one who was chosen to save this land and the spirits roaming across it. You must go on a quest that no other human can complete. Only you are gifted with the power to do this. Follow your heart, boy, and good luck."

With that, the boy rose and bowed before the witch. With a last apprehensive glance at the land around him, he instinctively closed his eyes and felt an unfamiliar sensation enveloping him.

"What is this?" he thought dazedly to himself. "As if I'm floating off to…somewhere…"

As the feeling overcame him, he closed his eyes, relaxing to the strange sensations. Suddenly, the wind around him, picked up, and the boy's eyes blinked open. Gaping, he stared around him, barely managing to register the fact that he really was flying, thousands of feet above the land. Around him came the sound of otherworldly laughter, light and breezy, loud and muted at the same time. He swirled his hear around and saw the source: he was surrounded everywhere by flying…things. From nowhere in particular, and everywhere at once, a voice tinkled, "We're wind spirits, boy! We're gonna help you get to where you need to be so just hang on there, got it?"

The boy's eyes widened, and then he swallowed thickly and nodded his head nervously. After another bout of strange implacable laughter, the spirits extended their wings, and glided among the stars. The boy closed his eyes, and wondered why he had ever agreed to this.

Without any warning, he was suddenly on the ground. He opened his eyes, looking around his surroundings warily. It seemed he was on a mountain, only one mountain amongst an impressive number.

"What now?" he thought frantically. He razed his thoughts back at the same time he was standing by the campfire and a wizened old witch. Her frail voice echoed in his mind. 'Follow your heart.' He mulled the statement over and over in his mind. How was that supposed to help him 'erect a wall' in order to save the spirits? He closed his eyes and imagined himself drawing on the power surrounding him, every particle of his being straining to form a solid foundation on these immense, unfamiliar, yet enchanting lands.

He waited, eyes closed in anticipation. Just then, he felt a change in the atmosphere around him. Heart racing, he slowly opened his eyes. In front of him stood a massive structure, so great that he had to strain his eyes to see the top and, where he turned his head sideways, he saw, to his great astonishment, that it stretched endless lengths on either side.

Suddenly, he laughed, his voice echoing off over the empty lands, mirth sparkling in his eyes, and he jumped up and down in triumph. His laughter slowly died down and his eyes clouded over with confusion as another sound took its place. As a strange, echoing patchwork of diverse sounds rolled over the land, he turned his head to see spirits; spirits of the valleys, rivers, lakes, forests, all sweeping up join him. They all stood before him, all their forms and faces different, entirely different from humans, exotic and ethereal, but with the same expression: gratitude.

The boy ("Hero, Savior, Redeemer!" exclaimed the spirits) smiled and sighed in satisfaction. At that moment, he felt a breeze against his back and whipped around. His hair stood on end as he was once again met with the face of the same frail old woman he had only met minutes ago.

The witch gazed at him with sad, regretful eyes. "I'm sure you heard this part of the story, too, young lad."

The boy nodded slowly, as if hesitating, then, as he closed his eyes, a tear escaped, running down his cheek, and dropped unto the ground below.

The moment the tear touched the ground, a huge, roaring gale swept over all the land and the witch ducked and covered herself with her tattered cloak. When she looked up, everything was gone. Even the boy. The one who had enough bravery and spirit to save the godforsaken spirits. The only one who dared to plunge into such an honorable, but, alas, deadly fate.

It wasn't until she turned around to leave when a thought struck her. She spun around, facing the wall that, through the pure spirit of the boy, had been built. She stared up at it, her own tear rolling down her face. "I never even knew his name." she whispered, regret echoing in her voice.