Prologue
It had been many years since the courtyard had been in a state of true serenity, and even now in the approaching dusk, the atmosphere seemed more saturated than ever with unease. Heavy rain from the past few nights had left the delicate plants of the gardens limp but incredibly verdant and bright beneath the waning sunlight, and the stones of the intricate fountains and winding pathways remained cold and steely gray. While the garden, itself, was not necessarily a somber picture, it was not a pleasant reminder to see what lay at the far North end, mostly shrouded by a vivid overgrowth of heavenly bamboo.
This is where the master and keeper of the Temple cautiously made his way, making soft tapping noises upon the stepping stones with a gnarled wooden cane as he steadied his gait. At the end of the pathway was a simple, unadorned fountain, slowly and steadily flowing. While the waters of its lone tier glimmered with the last of the day's light, one could see that the pool actually generated its own unearthly, aqua glow, and it was this that let the master know that the spirit who resided here still had troubles to conclude.
Upon reaching the small bench just in front of the fountain, he swept the short train of his blue robes in front of him to cover his sandal-clad feet, then tapped with his cane at the last stepping stone.
"If I may have a word," he said, though he did not expect the spirit to answer right away.
As the last of the sunlight dwindled and night fell, the fountain's single pool rippled, shifted, and took on a most ethereal form. It rose in the shape of a flowing tendril at first, then sprouted suggestions of draconic features: horns, pointed ears, and scalloped plates trailing down from the nape of its "neck" down to its tail, which receded back into the now considerably smaller puddle in the stony tier. This creature now regarded the master with two glittering, turquoise eyes, and leaned forward from out of the shallow dish that held it off the ground. As it gathered energy in its waving body to speak, its most distinctive features presently lit up on its forehead—nine golden dots, arranged in a square formation.
"Master Fung," the entity spoke at length, the youth in its voice hardly fitting its eldritch appearance. It lowered its head and closed its eyes in respect.
"I have some news, young monk," the elder paused, as though he could not quite put the words together at first. "Your fellow warriors in training… have decided, after all, to journey to the mountains. There, they will—"
"T-they have? But they will not be able to vanquish the evil without me! How do they expect to even fight properly?"
Not in the least bit annoyed at the interruption, Fung continued; the water dragon had been known for emotional outbursts. At least, in its previous form, it had been.
"Keep in mind that, just as it is never too late for one to realize his or her own true strength, it is never too late to learn a lesson in humility, young monk. The remaining Wu Dai Warriors will continue where you left off… Bringing honor to our temple and home in all that they do to combat the Heylin, and bringing peace to your spirit. To return honor to them, you must have faith that they can be strong without you."
The water dragon lowered its head further, its eyes and dots dimming.
"This does not mean that you are any less of a worthy fighter; you simply cannot follow them in your current state," the master spoke again, then allowed for a moment for his words to register with his student.
"I… I understand, Master."
"Try not to think on this as a hardship, being separated from your body. This will be the ultimate lesson in patience for you, and the warriors' journey, the ultimate test in courage and strength."
The spirit, bowed, as only a watery serpent could bow, and receded further into its reservoir before completely losing shape and resuming the form of a pool.
"I await their safe return," it said, the golden dots dimming and dying out as it assumed its resting shape.
With that, the master quit his bench, taking his cane in hand, and followed the pathway out of the courtyard. As he followed the stony inlays amid the grass, a slight shift in the atmosphere caught his attention. Looking out the garden's northwestern gate, he noted the faintest layer of mist beginning to appear in the absence of sunlight, shrouding the paths that led away from the temple, and off into the hills and valleys.
Perhaps it was just his innate concern for his youngest students, but there was far more to this darkness of the distant mountains than met the eye.
