Wren impatiently asks, “Is there anything else?”

Hermit removes his hand and says, “For the ogre side, I am sure you are already aware of the immense hunger and immense strength of the Ogre. There is a small talent for nature magic, but that merely implies that you will thrive in a forest and have a green thumb. Other than a general weakness towards Fire Magic, you didn’t gain any other weakness from that side. And naturally, of course, the Ogre Clan Head ability, but you already know that. Although, interestingly enough, your immense strength is further augmented by the Frost Giant lineage.”

Hermit paused and glances down at Wren who does not look shocked by the news. Hermit clears his throat and says, “Your other half of talent for magic comes from Frost Giant lineage and naturally your talent for water and ice magic. Normally, there would be a weakness from earth magic, but the ogre side tempered that weakness away. Other than a talent for swimming and fishing, there isn’t any other loss or gain.”

“Did I inherit blood magic as well?” Wren asked.

Hermit purposefully does not reply and claps his hands to his face. Wren instinctively takes a step back from Hermit, could it be that Hermit finally lost it? Wren’s face darkens as Hermit smiles his eerie perverted smile at her. “Pervert,” Wren mumbled under her breath.

Hermit triumphantly says, "Now my student," only pausing to savor the words.

“This idiot probably has never taught anyone,” Wren rather disillusioned thought to herself. “I who grew up in a brothel should feel ashamed of falling prey to the schemes of such a terrible conman.”

Hermit cheerfully continues, "As I was saying based on your heritage, current age, and time that we have let’s start with of illusions. It should come naturally to you given your lineage. Now, the easiest way to learn is to cast an illusion of yourself much like a mirror image that mimics your actions. And naturally the best way to learn is to practice casting an illusion, while running for one owns life."

Wren grumbles, “As expected of an ultra-S!”

"It’s really simple really, you run, I chase, but if I catch you I’ll just chop off a limb,” Hermit happily said as he waves a broadsword that wasn’t there a second ago.

Ignoring the magical feat, Wren considers her options as Hermit adds, "In the spirit of fairness, I'm giving you a one-minute head start-!" Before Hermit has finished, Wren has already run off leaving him the dust.

As she runs, Wren finally understands why Hermit didn’t have any students, who could survive that lunatic? One would have to be insane to benefit from having a teacher like him. But what did that say about herself? Ignoring that last question, Wren stretches her senses to access her magic pool within herself.

Breathing in and out, Wren tires to imagine extending a string from her magic pool to begin to create an image of herself. Hearing footsteps behind her, the string instantly falters in reply. Wren hurriedly calms her emotions and tries again as the footsteps get closer causing her heartbeat to rise. Hearing the sound of a blade moving, Wren leaps to the side but is unable to fully dodge as the blade cleanly slices off her hand.

Ignoring the fiery pain, Wren continues to run as she hears Hermit stop behind her. This madman must clearly be a murderer on the run! Or that of a pervert! Wren was personally inclining towards the second option as her arm burns in pain as her hand regenerates.

Not bothering to glance back lest she slow down or trip, Wren once more starts again. This time the string of magic extends further and begins to form a shape. Footsteps cause the string to wobble, but digging her nails into her palms, Wren steadies her heart as the illusion continues to roughly form.

Wren hadn’t noticed she had unconsciously slowed down in her run to stabilize the illusion. With ease, Hermit caught up and this time viciously aimed for below the knee. With a painful grunt, Wren falls to the ground as everything below her right knee burns, which should be impossible as it was gone.

Biting her lip, Wren crawls to feet and stands as she waits for her leg to regenerate. Hermit innocently whistles and says, “I’ll give you an extra minute since you need to regrow your leg.”

Wren glares and doesn’t say anything as Hermit tries to make small talk, “So, how’s it going?” Wren snorts as Hermit sagely says, “Not well, eh? Do you want a clue?”

Wren has the urge to spit, but instead turns her head away to ignore Hermit. Hermit eyes dull as he says, “Fine, have it your way, I was just trying to help.”

Wren really resists the urge to spit and thankfully is saved by leg finished regenerating. Shoeless, Wren hops over to her chopped off leg and removes the boot before sticking it back on. Without a word, Wren scurries away leaving Hermit to quietly hum to himself.

This routine continued for three straight days other than the momentarily pause to eat and sleep at night. The worst part of the situation was that Hermit made Wren gather her strewn limbs across the valley and then throw them into the fire pit. Needless to say, Wren wasn’t very hungry thanks to the smell of her own burning flesh. Though Wren had the distinct feeling that if she hadn’t Hermit might just make a stew using her limbs as the main dish.

On the bright side, Wren’s speed and reactions had improved as her levitation magic had awoken. Though Wren couldn’t do much beside glide, but combined with running, Wren could traverse the valley faster and more smoothly than ever. This unexpected change had caused Hermit to use some of his real strength to catch her, which clearly showed as his chopping had become more violent and brutal only aiming for her legs.

On the 4th day Wren was reaching her limit, but she had yet to break under the cruel training regime. Having become numb at this point, Wren no longer panicked upon hearing Hermit approach and rather welcomed it as form of incentive to herself. Either she won, or he did!

Blocking all sounds and distractions Wren traces the image of her body in her mind. The extending tendril from her magic pool wills a shape into existence. Wren feels power being pulled out of her pool for it only falter and slow down to a trickle in the form of a stream as the only connection to the illusion. Frowning, Wren wonders if she failed as she hears the pit-a-patter next to her. Sighing dejectedly at the pervert having caught to her, Wren turns her head to the side.

Wren almost chokes at failing to see Hermit and instead sees herself. Wren almost trips as she comes to a stop and stares at the illusion that copies her. Hiding her joy, Wren snips the string of magic between them as the illusion fades away into nothing. Wren turns towards the Hermit and is unable to hide a smirk at seeing the dejection on his face.

Hermit rather resigned lowers his sword and dejectedly says, "Congratulations are in order. After tomorrow, you can leave, but first let’s have dinner."

Wren thanks her lucky stars at finally escaping the evil grasp of the perverted Hermit. Thankfully she would never have to see the perverted Hermit again after tomorrow! Though if Wren were to be perfectly honest, she would miss Hermit’s cooking for Hermit was an excellent cook.

Hermit on the other hand is rather impressed with the scene that just occurred. To be honest, Hermit knew he had vastly underestimated the little ogre clan head. Considering, the child’s talent for magic, Wren should have easily produced an illusion within the first day. And yet, Wren had not.

In the end the little ogre clan head had suppressed all his expectations by creating a with substance. In other words, rather than just being an illusion, the illusion had become real to the extent of feeling real to the senses. Such a powerful skill is difficult to learn for even powerful wizards and very few ever mastered it. It truly was an incredible skill that allowed the user to create a copy of oneself in battle that would unleash the same amount of damage but would receive zero damage and just disperse at the attack.

Hermit smiles ruefully to himself as they arrive at the cottage and he hurriedly moves to check on the shimmering pot that promises a wonderful dinner. Satisfied, Hermit sets the table and serves the meal.

After dinner, the two sits next to fire pit until Hermit reaches over and pats Wren on the head. Wren has the urge to bite the pervert’s hand but decides not to lest she catch something foul. Wren’s disdain must have leaked, because Hermit quickly retracted his hand back.

Hermit muses, “Kid, you've surprised me. And you know, I'm almost never surprised."

Wren glares at Hermit and thinks, “Well, no, duh. With zero knowledge while being chased it is indeed a miracle that I was successful under those infernal conditions!” Wren privately makes note to avoid hermit-like characters in the future.

The fire pit crackles and silence once more filled the air until Hermit tentatively asks, "What do you think of your father, Wren?"

Wren smiles fondly into the fire and sincerely says, "Father was the best father I could have ever asked for! Not only did father love me despite the unfortunate circumstance of my birth, he never once complained, and treated me as his most precious treasure.”

Wren’s smile widens as she giggles, “You know he was a shady character in his own way. Father was quite mischievous and famous for pulling pranks if you got on his wrong side. He was quite creative too as he never once got caught.

I remember a time, when I was still very small I had snuck into the kitchen. Now I knew I shouldn’t have but I wanted a snack. To my surprise, I found that the high cabinet was left unlocked and being the curious child that I was I went for the and investigated. To my utter delight, the cabinet was full of sweets.

Now, Father regulated how many sweets I was allowed to eat as too many would be bad for me. But naturally I was a child and against all odds, I ate every single one of the sweets in the cabinet. Full, I waddled out, but was truck with fear at hearing footsteps coming to investigate. I fearfully jiggled back upstairs and hid under the bed.

Soon shouts of anger could be heard from downstairs. Knowing the culprit responsible, Father found me hiding under the bed and pulled me into his arms. Father gently cleaned my face and hands of the sticky sweets only asking that I never do so again. After putting me down for a nap, Father confessed he was responsible and was punished by the Madam.

Oh, I’m certain the Madam suspected it had been me. And the next time she saw me, the Madam quite pointedly threatened me. Now father had watched the Madam do so and did not take kindly to that. And so, as usual, Father made a private note and plotted his next scheme.

Not long after the Madam was entertaining several important guests in her parlor. As the house was busy attending the guests, Father snuck down into the kitchen and layered the fine tea leaves to be served with a thin layer of non-colored powder. By all rights, Father should have been spotted, but yet not only was he successful, but he wasn’t even seen by the kitchen staff.

Well, as you can imagine, once the tea was prepared and served not long after the guests stomachs began to rumble and tumble. The guests literally fled to the restrooms including the madam and were unable to leave the vicinity for several hours. After that, these privileged guests never returned to the house. Though the Madam naturally suspected father, she was unable to pin the blame on him nor much less discover how he would even do so.”

Hermit wipes the tears from his face as he roars with laughter. "Your father sounds like an interesting man. I would have loved to have met him. I am sure we could have been great friends,” Hermit breathlessly said.

Wren turns green at Hermits words and privately thanks the heavens for the kindness in not doing so. She could only imagine the state of chaos and destruction the world be in due to them. If Fayne, the Fallen, was unable to destroy the world; she was certain that Hermit and her father would have finished the task.

Hermit glances up at the dark cavern sky and says, "Wren, did you know that you are the last clan head left with the ancient lineage in the entire world?" Wren’s eyes widen in surprise at the comment.

"I suppose you don’t realize just how rare you are. And though there are plenty of ogre clan head's left in the world none of which carry the ancient lineage. The reason being that a thousand years ago during the last elf and ogre war, the last ogre clan heads with such attributes were killed. The elves and humans in a combined effort annihilated any potential carriers of the ancient lineage. I had thought that the bloodline was extinct and yet her you are."

Wren looks into the fire with a proud gaze and says, “It thanks to my ancestor an ancient clan head who fled to the far north and joined an ancient matriarchal Frost Giant village. Thanks to our ancestors our entire village were the carriers of both lineages, but now, they’re gone.

You know I don’t think I’ll ever understand humans. Our village lived in peace with the neighboring human village and we never raided their women. And yet the adventurers came and destroyed the village for no apparent reason other than for their measly pride.

Father and I were all that was left and now, just me-.”

Hermit is quiet as he sincerely says, “Sometimes life is without any good answers for the terrible things people do too each other. But still, that is no reason to give now is it?”

Wren snaps back, “Of course not.”

Hiding a rueful grin Hermit changes the subject, “Do you know that in ancient times the Ogre Clan Head ability was called, God Eater? Quite interesting, don’t you think?

“Not really,” Wren replied with a shrug.

Genuine surprise and puzzlement are reflected on Hermits face. "Why would you say that?" Hermit asked.

"I think it would be terrible thing to be a god. Infinite power, but never any challenges, that kind of life certainly would be very boring. Besides living forever seems exhausting and I want to see father again on the other side,” Wren truthfully answered.

Hermit laughs so hard that he rolls off the stone he is sitting on and onto the dusty ground. Hermit’s mad cackles fill the air and echo causing Wren to edge away. Though she knew he was a pervert, she hadn’t thought he was into self-affliction as well. Perverts were just the worst!

Finally, Hermit pulls himself back onto the seat with a great gasp, still twitching with unspoken laughter. After one or two failed attempts, Hermit finally calms himself though his voice holds a quiver of laughter. “Do you know that in all my years of existence, you are the first to say that they pity a god for being a god? Since the dawn of time, countless men and women have requested the power of the gods for an infinite number of reasons: power, lust, wealth, envy, love, greed, vengeance, etc. And yet, you just may be right in the end,” Hermit softly confessed.

Hermit glances pensively at Wren and says, “Is that the reason for your refusal of the golden pearl? Or are you possibly considering in asking for my aid in fulfilling thy vengeance?”

Wren scorns Hermits suggestion as if she wanted anything from the pervert! Wren wouldn’t touch anything given to her by Hermit with a ten-foot-pole! There was just no telling where his grimy hands had been and frankly she didn’t want to know.

“Where is the satisfaction in seeking my vengeance with my own two hands if it is fulfilled by others? No, I refuse to take such a route. And besides the golden pearl promised me to become a legend among mankind. But I’m an ogre and I have no intention of becoming mankind’s savior. And between you and me, humans are much more trouble than they're worth.”

“I knew you were one just full of surprises,” Hermit said with a smile. Glancing back at the fire, Hermit curiously asks, “Well, what are your plans for the future?”

“Aside from vengeance, first, I’m going to leave this blasted forest,” Wren vehemently said. “After that, I will return to our clan’s homeland and become stronger. And only then will I create a nation where ogres and other magical creatures can live in peace."

Hermit eyes widen in surprise and envy at such an innocent dream. “That is quite the ambitious dream,” Hermit said as eyes seem faraway. “I would like to see such a sight once more,” Hermit quietly thought to himself.

After some time, Hermit turns back towards Wren and teasingly says, "Who knew such big dreams were being held inside such a small body.”

“What is a dream if not life’s aspiration?” Wren countered back.

Hermit chuckles at the blunt response and says, “You’re certainly right.

Seeing Hermit in a good mood, Wren pointedly asks, “You never answered my question from the other day, did I inherit blood magic?”

Hermit is gravely quiet for a moment causing Wren to wonder, if she shouldn’t have asked? “I don’t know what is that you know about the Blood Elves, but Blood Elves almost never breed with non-eleven races. And the simple reason for that being is that it is forbidden,” Hermit replied.

Wren furrows her brows at the candid response and further inquiries, “And why is that?”

“It all ends and begins with the Fall,” Hermit answered as he gazed into the fire.

“Long ago, before the fall, when the elves still lived in harmony, the elves coexisted as one great nation and were only grouped together according to family. The five families distinguished themselves according to what ability had been granted to them by the benevolent Earth Goddess, Silvia.

The Blood Elves, the loving healers with hair that shone like the sun from golden to crimson fiery red, golden eyes, and golden skin.

The High Elves, the clever keepers of knowledge. Their hair ranged from dark to fair hair as their eyes that came in a slew of colors and pale skin the color of freshly made cream.

The Dark Elves, the ever curious, inventive craftsmen. Their hair varied from dark to darker hues with eyes the color of the gems of the earth with warm beige colored skin.

The Light Elves, the gentle priests and teachers of the Goddess Silvia. Their hair was always light colored with the palest of skin color and eyes the color of all the shades of the sky.

And, the Wood Elves, the guardians and protectors of the Goddess Silvia. Loved by nature, their skin ranged in all the shades of the earth with eyes that were always a variety of green.

During the fall, Fayne the Fallen sent his demonic minions into the elven lands and stole many young eleven children. From these stolen children the vampires, ghouls, gargoyles, and many more monstrous beings were born. The elves were broken hearted and wept at their loss. With broken hearts, the elves were called to arms and heeded the call of the Gods as they marched to war.

After the fall, the anger yet remained and the five Elven families came to blame each other for their tragic loss. Not long after each family separated and kept to their own land except for the High Elves and Blood Elves. These two families were still largely at peace and still bore each other good will. With the passing of time tension slowly lessened among the families as they renewed their trade once again. The world followed in these same steps as the people of the grew and incredible empires arose creating marvels that have never been seen since then.

And then came the day of the first of the Fallen Apostles, Taiga, the Destroyer arose. The terrible day, Eternal Frost was cast a third of the world’s population would die from sickness and starvation within days. Once more the Chosen Champions sent out the call and many young elves arose to heed the call. Even among the elves there was pride and when the young male elves of the other families sneered at the gentle, healing Blood Elves, the pride of the Blood Elves was terribly hurt.

You see the reason for the name of Blood Elves is that the Blood Elves used blood magic to heal the wounds of others by using their own blood as healing instruments. And so, believing that he could change them being view as weak, a naïve youth by the name of Adalheid began to do just that. In secret, Adalheid, and his twin sister, Ariadre began to train by absorbing the blood of animals until they were able to use their blood as weapons. Adalheid created blades from blood, while Ariadre used her blood to cast spells. Unknowingly this was the birth of the two infamous blood wielding blood lineages.

Seeing themselves growing stronger and full of youthful confidence, Adalheid and Ariadre set out for the frozen north. Less than a league from the front line, Adalheid and Ariadre came across a terrible scene of soldiers wading through pools of blood to viciously tear at each other as they stepped over fallen comrades to attack. A scene so terrible that even the vultures and crows of the sky dared not near.

Horrified, Adalheid and Ariadre were unable to stomach the horrifying scene and turned away. Too late, they realized that this was not the glorious scene of battle which was sung in the bard’s songs, but a grotesque thing that warped the mind. The two turned to flee, when a wounded wizard called out to them for aid. The two healers unable to turn away naturally healed the wizard as the wizard begged them to aid the wounded on the battlefield. Unconvinced, Adalheid and Ariadre turned to leave, but the wizard pleaded with them again. In attempt to convince them to stay the wizard offered a self-created potion that promised to destroy their fear and grant them boundless courage. All the wizard asked in return was that they would remain on the battlefield and aid the wounded.

The twin’s tender hearts were moved by the wizard’s request and so, the twins accepted the wizard’s proposal and drank the unknown potion. The potion worked quite efficiently as promised, but perhaps too well. With ease the twins healed as they traversed the battlefield, but a strange thirst began to grow in their hearts. Before the twins knew it, they were using the skills which they had self-created as they mercilessly attacked the enemy and grew stronger with each fallen corpse. Thanks to the twin’s actions that day for the first time the forces of Taiga, the Destroyer were successfully pushed back.

Overjoyed at being more than just nursemaids for the wounded, Adalheid and Ariadre returned to the wizard and begged for potions. The wizard gladly gave them more, before gathering with his comrades. Thrilled, Adalheid and Ariadre requested the aid of dragons to return home. The dragon relented and within a day’s time, the twins returned to them to reveal the true might of the Blood Elves.

Naturally the entire Blood Elf family was overjoyed and watered down the potion to share with the entire family. Filled with pride many young Blood Elves set out to battle and with the aid of the dragons arrived within a day to aid. The allied armies were being pushed back and in timely fashion the blood elves were led into battle by Adalheid and Ariadre.

The Blood Elves all too easily tore into their enemies. But a terrible thing began to occur as the battle progressed the Blood Elves on the battlefield laughed in open delight at the slaughter as they bathed in the enemies’ blood. The ally’s armies grew sick as they watched the sickening actions of the Blood Elves. It became so much so that the Chosen Champions were forced to use their great powers to halt the maddened Blood Elves in their tracks.

Not long after the Blood Elves came to their senses and with gut-wrenching horror began to recall the sickening atrocities they had committed. Some of the Blood Elves went mad in that very instant unable to withstand their actions and slit their own throats rather than live. Appalled and full of regrets, Adalheid and Ariadre desperately sought out the wizard for the antidote. But twas not to be as the wizards had been slain during the raging battle.

With the defeat of Taiga, the Blood Elves were forced to return home was Adalheid and Ariadre were forced to explain that the gift once seen as a blessing was a curse. But what forced them to leave was the unruly display of maddened anger that almost killed a High Elven child. Fearing for the safety of their brethren the High Elves, the Blood Elves sadly separated themselves in hopes of finding a cure.

That wasn’t the only thing that changed that day. Despite being gifted healer’s, the Blood Elves were shunned due to their now infamous uncontrolled rage and bloodthirst. This would lead to countless experiments, but no would lead to success. Forced to a dead end, the Blood Elves could only strictly train themselves and their offspring to control their emotions.

However, this proved impossible for some and as such without hesitation were put down. A portion of the Blood Elves did not agree with this violent action of the Elders and chose to leave. One such Blood elf went out into the world and fell in love and wed a Werewolf. A child was born and was named, Dante. With time Dante waxed strong and was an utter delight to his family. But on his 12th birthday, the blood magic within Dante awoke. On that day Dante died, and a beast was born, one that hungered only for blood. Dante not only slaughtered his entire family but his penchant for blood was limitless as he slaughtered villager after village.

The Blood Elf hunters retrieved the beast and returned to the Blood Elves compound. The Elders used all their might but were unable to bring the boy’s mind for all that was left was a mindless beast. Still filled with hope, the elders brought the boy before the High Elves in hope of a solution. The High Elves agreed that nothing could be done, the Blood Elves thanked their brethren before going on their way. Left with no other choice, they peaceful slew the boy and buried him with their dead.

From then on, mating with a non-blood elf became a forbidden covenant. Any half blood-elf found would be instantly killed or drowned at birth. And any child that did somehow escape the watchful eye of the Blood Elves generally never survives infancy or always mad in their youth and were killed,” Hermit said.

Hermit solemnly gazes into Wren’s eyes and says, “And now that you know the truth, do you still want to know if you are a carrier? Because there is no guarantee that the fluke that happened with your father will occur to you as well.”

Wren purses her lips in thought and says, “You may be right, but even so, I’d rather be prepared than be left unprepared.”

Hermit sighs and says, “Yes, you are a carrier as well. However, don’t get your hopes up unlike your father, your bloodline is much more volatile than his.”

Wren tilts her head in conclusion and says, “Shouldn’t I inherit the same blood magic as father?”

“Normally, yes, but your father was a dual carrier. I’m not sure who his sire was, but his sire was the product of both blood lines,” Hermit pensively said. “In one manner, the spell bloodline is perfect for you as you are a talented mage. But on the other hand, the spell bloodline is twice as dangerous because of the explosive energy found within it.

You see normal non-lineage Blood Elves become berserkers on the battlefield and the more blood that is strewn the stronger they become. That is why Blood Elves are infamously known for becoming mad on the battlefield.

However, the descendants of Adalheid and Ariadre are different. The battle bloodline of Adalheid grants his descendants the ability to morph their blood into weapons such as your father’s blood whips. On the other hand, the spell bloodline of Ariadre is quite different as it is used to cast explosive curses and spells. The requirement needed to use blood curses is to have a calm heart, but how is that possible if that is the curse of the Blood Elves? Naturally, not many descendants ever live to adulthood.”

Wren is quiet for a moment and bluntly asks, “How much time do I have?”

“Normally I would say, 3 to 5 years, but your Ogre lineage is causing the spell bloodline to awaken earlier. I give you a year with the possibility of an early awakening,” Hermit regretfully said.

“A year, huh? I can work with that,” Wren regretfully said. She had hoped for much more time, but she would do her best with the time she was given. Wren pointedly gazes at Hermit and says, “But why did you train me, if you don’t expect me to make survive?”

Hermit shrugs and replies, “Maybe, I’m hoping you will surprise me again. Or maybe, I’m just foolish that way. Either way, I think it would be nice if you could prove me wrong.”

Wren ruefully smiles as Hermit rubs his nose and says, “Anyway, it’s getting late and you have a bright and early morning tomorrow if you want to reach the south exit tunnel.”

Wren yawns in agreement as Hermit reaches over and gently pats her head once. "Off to bed with you. You have a long journey ahead of you," Hermit kindly suggested.

Wren sleepily nods her head and tucks into bed. Despite her mind ablaze with everything her exhaustion wins. After all, this would be the last night she would sleep under a roof for some time to come, she might as well enjoy it.

Morning comes, and Wren rubs her eyes awake, before purposefully getting out of bed. Once packed and ready, Wren finds that her travel bags are a big heavier than before. Wren peeks inside to find food supplies and other small items inside. Wren pales with a shudder, before hastily closing her bag shut and heading out towards the fire pit.

With his back turned towards Wren, Hermit serves breakfast and says, “I apologize for opening your bags without your permission, but I thought you might need a few things to go on your way.”

“It’s fine,” Wren crisply replied. Personally, Wren suspected Hermit had been wanting to search her bag to steal her panties. And naturally to cover up his crime, Hermit acted out with kindness. One could argue otherwise, but Hermit’s perverted grin proved Wren’s concerns weren’t without foundation. Of course, Hermit would cough out blood if he knew Wren’s thoughts, but what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him!

Sitting down as far way from Hermit, Wren swiftly stuffs her mouth with the cooked egg. Between the two of the, the breakfast table is left devoid of crumbs. Finished, Wren politely wipes her mouth and rises to her feet. Wren with great relief to be on her way adjusts her travel bags on her back, before politely bowing forward and saying, “Thank you for everything, please take care.”

Wren turns to walk away, before pausing to look back and say, “Hey Hermit, you never did tell me your actual name?”

Hermit winks at Wren causing Wren to shiver at the perverted action. “I knew it, he’s a pedophile!” Wren thought as she stepped back.

Wren swiftly scrambles away to only faintly hear, “My name is Dathan.” Wren almost stumbles at the name and snorts to herself as she shakes her head. “I knew he was crazy, but to call himself after the God of Life and the Void, isn’t he afraid of being accused of blasphemy?” Wren mutters to herself.

Wren pauses and turns back to say, “Aren’t you afraid of being struck down by the gods?” The hair on Wren’s neck stand up to find that the valley behind her is empty. There is no cottage, burning fire pit nor much less the figure of Hermit. Quiet,

“Did I meet a ghost?” Wren shakily whispered, before making the sign of wandering off evil. Turning on her heels, Wren runs as fast as she can too put distance between her and the haunted valley. It wasn’t to say she was afraid of ghosts, it’s just how do you fight and kill something you can’t touch!? Besides, in Wren’s point of view, ghosts are just an unnatural phenomenon! Frankly speaking, the dead should just stay dead!

Out of breath, Wren finally comes to a halt upon reaching the south exit. Huffing in relief at the damp tunnel, Wren does not hesitate to enter the unknown tunnel in her haste to leave the haunted valley behind her. Wren even almost kisses the tunnel as the valley disappears behind around the bend.

Feeling much better Wren continues down the moist tunnel that becomes narrower and narrower until she is unable to continue to move forward. A quarter of a candle-mark later, Wren is forced to turn on her side and begins to scuttle sideways as the cave becomes muskier. Just when Wren was beginning to despair a waft of fresh air passes overhead.

Thrilled, Wren moves forward to find small bursts of sun rays peeking through cracks in the ground overhead. With a painful grunt, Wren squeezes past a large mossy boulder at the exit to finally emerge into the glorious sunlight.

In a rare sunny day, the Misty Woods seem inviting as Wren throws herself onto the green grass and rolls around on it. Minutes later rather undignified looking, Wren has twigs and dead leaves in her hair. Smiling happily Wren stares at the open sky until her stomach grumbles that enough is enough.

With a sigh, Wren sits up and opens her travel bags. Wren reaches for one of the provisions given to her to only freeze at the questionable looking green bread. Wren eyes the bread from every direction, before finally gaining the courage to take a bite out of it. “I mean, it’s a physical bread, right? I mean, I won’t turn into a ghost if I eat this, right?” Wren uneasily muttered to herself.

After some deliberation, Wren finally bites into the bread. Slowly chewing it in her mouth, Wren finds that the loaf of bread is dry and tasteless, but edible. Finished, Wren washes down the bread with a swig of water trying not to think about how old the bread was and the fact that it belonged to a perverted ghost. “Is perversion contagious?” Wren sickly wondered to herself. “I certainly hope not!”

Wren quickly rises to her feet and shakes the leaves and twigs out of her hair. Putting her travel bags back on, Wren heads north as suggested by Hermit. Not long after, Wren finds the path and studies her map against the current path mark. With a pleased expression, Wren finds that she is only four days out from the Tessa Mountain Range.

Wren can already see the great Mountain Range in the nearby distance with the exit of the Misty woods only two days’ walk. Wren cradles her pendant and says, “I’m almost there, father.” Putting her map away, Wren eagerly presses forward so close to her goal.