Hier ist eine Idee, mit der ich mich schon laenger trage... Die meiste Zeit schreiben wir Fantasy recht 'nahe' an der Realitaet - die Welt die wir besuchen ist oft vage mittelalterlich und es mag Magie geben oder Monster - aber sie ist von Protagonisten bewohnt die essen und schlafen, die Geld verdienen und dafuer in Tavernen bezahlen, die ein Sozialleben nicht so entfernt von unserem fuehren...
Dafuer gibt's auch gute Gruende, denn um von einer Welt zu erzaehlen muessen wir eine Referenz finden die der Leser teilt, die Erfahrungen der beschriebenen Welt koennen nicht vollkommen verschieden von unserer sein, sonst weiss der Leser nicht was die beschriebenen Dinge bedeuten sollen.
Trotzdem reizt mich schon laenger die Idee, mal 'tiefer' in die Fantasy zu gehen - in eine fremdere Welt in der magische Faehigkeiten alltaeglich sind und den Umgang der Bewohner dieser Welt bestimmen, in der Magie viele Beschraenkungen unserer Welt einfach aufhebt - in eine Art Feenreich in dem ganz andere Gesetze gelten als die der Physik - eine Welt die deutlich anders ist, aber nicht so weit weg dass man sie gar nicht mehr versteht.
Daher also hier mal ein Versuch...
Ich hab' eine Weile ueberlegt ob ich das auf Deutsch oder Englisch schreibe, aber am Ende waere der einzige Grund auf Deutsch zu schreiben dieses Forum - sehr viele meiner Bekannten denen ich so eine Geschichte mal zeigen mag sprechen nicht Deutsch 
- und die meisten Konzepte und Begriffe hatte ich im Kopf auch eher auf Englisch als auf Deutsch. Daher... tut mir leid wenn ich damit den einen oder anderen Interessierten ausschliesse - falls es jemanden reizt aber es wirklich nicht auf Englisch geht, kann ich versuchen zu uebersetzen...
Vieles ist auch noch nicht endgueltig - mit den Namen ringe ich z.B. teilweise noch, Konzepte sind noch im Fluss... aber fuer einen Eindruck ist die Sache vielleicht gut:
***
Of Roanai and his coming to the City at the End of the World
Nyacea. The City of the Water Lily.
At last.
For the last ten days, they had been sailing across the mysterious, trackless expanse of the Sea of Dreams, leaving the last harbour on the Fragrant Isles behind. And as Caitharu, the Peak of Sunset, had vanished on the horizon, they had seen the Sun for the last time. Since then only the passing of Orea, the Bright Moon, across the sky had counted the days, and they had been heading into eternal night.
But what a night it was!
The stars had become more luminous than Roanai had ever seen them, constellations which he had been only glimpsed in the darkest nights back in the Crystal Mountains of Calatirea were now shining hard and brilliant on the deep sky, and between them hosts and hosts of new stars had appeared, their existence previously unguessed by him, faint at first, but ever brightening, forming mist-like tendrils and bands on what had been featureless deep indigo at first. With every day that had passed since the Fragrant Isles, the moon Orea had grown in size, till it now took the twentieth part of the sky when it was visible, a huge radiant orb that cast its soft silvery light across the glittering waves.
Nothing seemed quite real any more, such was the quality of the Sea of Dreams. Roanai was used to seeing the invisible, he was gifted with a measure of True Sight, and he was no stranger to spirits, but nowhere in the realm had he seen them in such quantities as on these strange, dark waters. Najads and Undines chased each other in the softly glowing wake of the ship, and hosts of Sylphs and Zephyrs were thick across the billowing sails. When he was lying down in his cabin, he had heard the strange call of alluring voices from the deep, and occasionally glimpsed sights of the submarine kingdoms, of giant leviathans moving down where the very fabric of the realm started to bend under the weight of the water above, or of sunken cities through which luminous schools of fish were swimming.
But now - now the journey was near its end, and Roanai could not find it in him to feel gladness about it, heavy he felt the threads of Wyrd upon him.
The sight of Nyacea was not what he had expected.
Even in the realm that was full of wonders, a city build on a giant water lily was unique. And yet, it was not the leaves that lay spread before him, or the huge flower that could be seen rising out of the waters and opening its petals to embrace the eternal night that impressed him most - it was the lights.
Myriads of Were-lights dotted the city, tiny bright dots like fireflies, forming gossamer-threads cunningly woven around the structure of the lily, Glamour wrought skillfully to create sublime beauty in the way golden shine gave way to bluish silver light, in the way all the different auras merged to create a glowing halo around everything, reflecting in the deep, dark waters. It was the hour of Truenight, Larai, his travelling companion had explained, when neither the glow from the depth of the sea nor the light of Orea or Tirea were in the sky, the hour that brought out the splendour of the Glamour best.
"It is indeed quite a sight.", Roanai said softly, almost to himself.
Larai nodded quietly. A small flotilla of various watercraft was becoming visible around the city, plain fishing vessels as well as elaborately crafted leisure yachts, larger ferries being rowed between the different leaves, and a fair number of oceangoing ships like the Soft Rippling of the Lakewater at Dawn, their own ship. Often they were accompanied by their own Were-lights, motes of radiance twinkling with the swell of the sea.
"So, my friend - what finally brings you here?", Larai asked, his voice expressionless.
Roanai knew better than to be surprised - he had been skirting the topic skillfully for most of the journey, and Larai had respected that, but he was not willing to be rude to someone who had been an interesting travel companion over such a long time. The question was bound to be asked before the end, they both knew it, Larai had earned the right and Roanai had had enough time to think over his answer.
"I am following someone.", he said quietly. The thief. The Wind that softly moves the Treetops at Night. The one who has ended so many hopes back in Calatirea. "For a long time. And I hope to find him here."
"I think you may well find him here.", Larai answered, equally calmly. "There is nowhere to go on from here, you can only go back. They say you can see the Pillars of Dawn from the highest spires of Nyacea - it is here where the world ends. There is no going further."
Roanai felt the touch of the Wyrd in this moment, and he knew the words for a true-saying. The long chase would be over, it all would end here. He could feel the weight of Scathu, his sword wrought of the hardest and brightest star-silver that could be found anywhere, heavy on his hip. But again, he could not find any gladness in him. It had been too long, the fresh and hot passion for the chase had evaporated long ago, and if he could, he would have turned elsewhere long ago. But he was Wyrd-bound - of his own free will at that - and he always had to go on. Or die.
Da ging mir beim Lesen (und Übersetzen) beinahe der Inhalt verloren. Aber egal, ich schaff das schon. 
Und zwar ohne Google-Übersetzer. Hoffe ich zumindest. 
, ich versuche es kurz zu halten:
