Chapter 9 –

It took a few days to reach Bamboo. I chose to exit Plume City from the south bridge and proceed east along the road. By following the map I had been provided with, I knew that when I reached a fork in the road, I would direct my path southward and follow it to Bamboo.

I was well aware that I could have reached the village in a few hours merely by flying over the lake, though that method would have required me to drop to the water's surface occasionally or the use of mana potions. I was now fully aware of the fact that my wings required a constant amount of my mana to keep me suspended in the air. With my current mana regeneration, I would have run out of mana before reaching Bamboo Village. The Elder had assured me though that my mana regeneration would quicken as I got stronger and potions would no longer be required to sustain flight. I figured that because I was still learning, saving my potions would be helpful later on.

And even if I didn't use "mana pots", as most of the clerics and archers in town called them, I could have flown over but used up all my mana and dropped to the water's surface to rest or swim to Bamboo. I didn't want to risk this method however, seeing as the Elder was kind enough to inform me that there were powerful monsters under the surface of the lake. At my current rank, it was ill advised for me to even think of trying to fight off any of these creatures.

Thus I took the long road. I didn't mind so much. Any opportunity to spend my days in the beauty of nature was more than welcome. And perhaps a twinge of anticipation kept me from hurrying to Bamboo.

But sure enough, all roads come to an end, and mine left me standing at the north entrance to Bamboo Village.

I stared at my old home and how it had been destroyed and now, how it had been rebuilt. It was different. Nothing was the same. The village was smaller than I remembered. Walkways connected the few buildings that stood in a small huddle. Everything looked to be made of old wood. I suppose they rebuilt the new village with the remains of the old one.

There were few actual villagers but an influx of archers and clerics in the area. The warriors were beating away the monsters in the area. It didn't take long to find the Elder of the city and hand him the message. He offered thanks and asked me to stay in the village to help thin down the monsters and help some of the villagers with their problems.

The Elder stared at me strangely and I knew that he vaguely recognized me. I remembered him well from my childhood. Clearly, he was one of the few survivors from the wraith attack all those years ago, though I figure that because my mother was found dead and my father and I never found by the elves, he and I had both been pronounced dead and lost to this world. Perhaps this Elder thought he was seeing some ghost or wraith trick and trying to make sense of it. I didn't stick around long enough to find out his conclusion.

Vipents and other small beasts were as abundant in this area as I remembered. I let my mind wander to the past while I fired Plume Shot after Plume Shot. The hours passed and day turned to night. The other elves returned to the village but I continued attacking and healing when I could, resting to regain my mana, and then I'd begin my assault again. The memories never stopped flooding my mind.

At some point, one elf came out and steered me back into the village. She led me to one particular building that was somewhat taller than the other buildings. I felt I was in a dream as she pushed me inside. My old home.

It had been turned into an inn for the warriors and weary travelers. I was put in one of the upper floor rooms. I remembered it has having been my parent's room. It looked completely different now but I saw it as it had been. A large bed crafted of an old oak in the center; a dresser to the left of the bed, a wash basin on the far right. The next room over had the bathing pool.

But tonight, I remembered one my earliest memories of a rainy night, curled up in bed between my parents as my father sang of the blessings that rain brought. The candlelight was dim and flickering slightly. The surrounding walls made of wood sang softly alongside my father. My mother was brushing my hair. Beyond my father, I could see mother's bow propped against the wall along with her quiver of arrows.

My father's singing was soothing, relaxing to the point that I drifted to sleep in my parent's arms. My life drifted by, each moment with them a cherished, joyous occasion. And then that day, the day I was robbed of my family and home, returned to me.

I woke the next morning in a dead sweat. My hands were clammy and my lips pale. I was having a hard time catching my breath as I stared into the mirror in the bathroom. I looked dead. The memory never left me alone, no matter how hard I tried to forget it, and it always affected me so.

Eventually, I managed to shake off the memory and regain a sense of composure. A bowl of fruit had been left in the room for the visitors to enjoy. I plucked a bright red apple from the assortment of fruits and left the room, paying the inn taker a tip for taking care of me. My day continued much in the same manner, completing missions for the villagers through most of the day.

I returned to the Elder after noon. It was little surprise to me when he requested I fly to Dreaming Stronghold and give the Elder there a note. I chose to fly because it would be a bit faster. I could be in

Dreaming Stronghold was just beyond an elven temple that was claimed to be on scared land. The story was that the first cleric and archer discovered their abilities there. It was said that Pan Gu gifted them with a special item to help channel their gifts and were appointed as teachers of their ways. Many of the elves' gifted archers and magicians were sent there as patrols, to protect our sacred land should any unholy force attempt to step within range. Annually, elves made the journey to the temple to pray to Pan Gu and their respective teachers for guidance and strength. I decided it wouldn't hurt to pray at the temple myself.

The temple itself wasn't all that grand. A large, circular, wooden enclosure. Starting from the entrance and spanning the left wall, pictures depicted the first archer discovering his talent. From the right side of the entrance and spanning along the right side of the room, the first cleric's story was told. Their stories met in the middle on the opposite wall of the entrance with Pan Gu descending from the heavens to present each with their gifts.

In the middle of the room however were two statues. The left was the archer, an arrow knocked to his gifted bow. To his side, albeit slightly behind him, the cleric had her glaive raised before her chest, prepared to cast a heal.

I knelt before the cleric, bowing my head with my right hand crossed over my chest. I whispered my thanks to her and Pan Gu for my healing gifts and asked that they and my parents watch over and protect me.

"Please give me the strength to be as brave and strong as my mother, Arika and father, Morolance. They were excellent warriors that fought until the bitter end. Help me to overcome my fear of the Wraiths. Help me to learn my craft and protect what is left of my world. Please, help me to be a gentle yet helpful cleric like my father was before me."

I kept my head bowed a moment longer, waiting respectfully for the spirit of the cleric to consider my requests. I was sure I had asked too much of her, but there were so many things I wanted to accomplish and become. So many things that would be difficult to succeed in by myself. I raised my head and stared at the statue, a slight smile in her eyes.