The Dryad appeared to flow through the vegetation as if they were in illusion, but as Raylas moved he would trip or snap a branch. The maiden twitched the first few times before waving her hand, opening a path for the man.

The vegetation appeared to fold away, leaving a stained but clear path for Raylas to walk. As the growth peeled back Raylas paused for only a moment to admire the hidden carvings which were hidden beneath the moss. The road itself was carved and decorated with innumerable designs, which made him give the broken walls another glance.

Between the forest and weather, anything which used to decorate their surfaces had long since washed away, but hidden beneath him was a hint at how magnificent this ancient city used to be. The idea that even the roads had artwork inscribed, like seen only on the homes of nobility, was mind boggling.

He followed behind the maiden while examining the ruins. Fountains which still flowed with water, plazas turned into small glens of trees or even collapsed into a pond, the remains of what appeared to be a tower. The city reminded him of one of his visits to the capital, though this one felt grander despite the destruction. A few areas even had fragments of artwork, like a statue covered in vines or a pillar which stood alone around a mountain of rubble.

If there was no Dryad living here, would humans have discovered it to reclaim it?

“We near my tree,” she announced.

Raylas snapped his attention back to reality. The unusual tree he saw from the distance was very close by. He could finally get a feel for its size and his breath was taken away.

The trunk alone was large enough for eight men to circle around and it rose well above the other trees. There was nothing but moss growing at the trunk of the tree, the tree’s branches and leaves casting a large shadow which filled the yard. Not even snow was close to the trunk by the thickness of the leaves.

The dryad trotted forward and leapt into the shadows, disappearing from view. Raylas paused just outside the edge of the meadow and waited. Soon he saw movement in the corner of his eye and two more Dryads appeared, both identical to the one which led him. They gave him a patient smile and waved him closer as they also leapt inside and disappeared.

Taking a gulp he looked behind him to see the vegetation had returned to their original homes. Though in some places it might have even grown thicker to make escape harder. He could still hear the running water of the creeks but he no longer could see them.

He took a step forward and crossed under the shadow. The cold wind seemed to bite him a bit harder with the sun no longer warming his skin. The moss squashed beneath his feet but the cold of the snow no longer seemed to affect him. As he moved deeper the area seemed to both cool and warm up.

He wasn’t shivering from the cold and he no longer could see his breath in the air, but there was a chill in the air which dug into his bones. The electric feeling in the air had increased, making his hair stand on end. He wanted to turn and leave but he felt eyes watching him.

He glanced around and saw an empty glen. He continued forward until he saw something slowly rise from the earth.

It was a table and two chairs. He paused in front of it then sighed. The maiden wanted to talk, so he would have to talk directly at the heart of her power.

He sat down, the wood of the chair forming perfectly around his armor. It was comfortable, which was annoying. He didn’t want to feel comfortable when speaking to a creature who could kill him with a thought.

In the other chair the dryad slowly rose up. She set her arms on the table and gave him a weighing look, her lips pursed together that gave the impression of confusion and frustration.

“You are much… more accepting than the normal humans who come to visit me,” she said.

“Did I have a choice?” he shrugged.

“Not really,” the maiden smiled a twisted smile.

“Then why resist when there is no hope in escaping?”

“Your aura feels chaotic, yet your words seem to go against your very nature?” The Dryad leaned back, scratching her head in an awkward way to mimic humans.

“I am a warrior, first and foremost. A hunter or predator, as you probably understand.”

“The forest always needs a good predator to keep the prey under control,” she agreed.

“Yet even a predator will submit when under the control of another who is stronger,” he pointed out.

The maiden laughed, her cracked voice sounding like the chirping of birds. An echo of a similar laughter echoed around them and Raylas peered around. There were forms everywhere. Some hanging off of the tree, others hidden beneath the moss. The maiden was not alone, yet it didn’t feel like there were more presences around them.

“I am no predator,” she giggled.

“Predator, no,” Raylas agreed. “But nature itself. Prey and predator both cater to nature as nature is stronger than them. Those that resist,” he waved to the ruins around him. “Eventually return. Not even the mightiest creature can defeat nature.”

“Then if I decided to kill you myself and feed you to the tree would you just roll over and die?” she asked.

Raylas froze. The lightheartedness of the creature in front of him threw him off. There was no bloodlust from her yet it sounded like she was seriously contemplating her statement.

“If you decided to kill me I would fight for my life,” he replied.

“But a stronger creature asked you to do so, so why resist now when you’ve been so submissive so far?”

“If I were to give in and die, then why did I resist fighting the undead?” Raylas countered. “Why did the goblins fight back at the fort? Why do the humans resist when the wolves attack? We fight for survival.”

“Is surviving that important if you will fail in the end?” she inquired while waving to the ruins as well. “You have already said you can’t win, so why waste the energy for something useless?”

Why does he resist? He resists because he is a warrior. His focus is to fight. Living through it was a luxury, but he would fight because it is what he always did. What does it matter why he chose to do it? He was a lowborn person who didn’t know any other trades, so he couldn’t make anything.

“Why do you tend the forest when a single fire can burn it to the ground?”

Her face hardened and she glared. Her glowing eyes pierced into him as Raylas sat confidently.

“The forest would survive such a fire,” she sniffed. “The fire would burn and the trees would turn to ash, but the roots would survive. We would regrow, stronger than before.”

“It's the same for us,” Raylas nodded. “A stronger being might kill some of us, but our desire to survive would last the danger. It is in the nature of a predator to fight, now cower and give way.” He reached down and clutched the chain, unclipping it before she could grow wood over it again. “Even the prey resist when they are about to be eaten.”

She stared at the weapon, a strange fascination in her eyes. She smiled and let out another giggle before she waved her hand. Vines shot out of the moss and tried to grab Raylas, but he was prepared this time and launched himself from the chair before the wood enclosed his legs.

He rolled across the moss and launched the dagger outward. It felt right again and smacked into the Dryad’s chest. She looked down in shock and touched the blade, flinching away as a bit of smoke began to emit from the wound. She sank down into the wood but was stopped when the blade reached the chair.

“This is peculiar,” she muttered.

Raylas lifted the weighted end of the chain and swung it around. The chain sheared through the reaching vines leaving him free, but he was stuck as the blade was still in the creature.

He felt something latch onto his leg and stumbled. He looked down to see a duplicate of the Dryad smiling at him from beneath the moss, her arms wrapped around his leg.

Another duplicate sprung down from the treetop and launched wooden branches at him. Raylas swung the chain to knock them way but the chain couldn’t break through the thicker wood. It coiled around them, the weight at the end making the branches droop.

Raylas roared and punched down at the maiden holding his leg. The wood on her head split beneath his armored fist, but she only giggled while her wooden arms warped and spread over more of his leg.

“This weapon is truly interesting,” the first Dryad said. “I cannot fuse with the mother tree while it is stuck in me?”

“And it also attacks just by touching my limbs,” the dryad with branched arms pondered, her voice crackling exactly like the first. “I can feel it burning into my bark.”

“Who are you?” the one holding his leg asked in the same voice again.

“I am Raylas of Eilire,” he growled. “And I am a wandering warrior.”

“A wandering warrior? Like a roaming predator?”

“Like the old tribe,” the second exclaimed.

“But they went extinct before the forest touched the sands.”

The three dryads muttered together, their words seeming to build off each other. Raylas, seeing a distraction, used the opportunity to yank the dagger from the first one’s chest and took a hold of the knife, slashing down at the creature holding his leg.

He jammed the blade into the split he caused with his fist and twisted the blade. The crack grew and the dryad gasped as she fell into two pieces. The wood around his leg stopped crawling up his leg. He used the blade to pierce them and break them off.

“It hasn’t dulled at all?” the broken dryad exclaimed.

“It is not an item of this era.”

“This is my weapon,” Raylas roared. “It is the tooth of the predator you tried to eat. Feel it’s bite!”

He stabbed again and the wood burst into flame, spreading down to the moss. Smoke rose as it engulfed the broken dryad who just watched in fascination. The moss steamed as they dried under the heat of the flaming creature.

“That flame… this burn… so you are of that bloodline,” she rumbled.

A sudden spike of danger erupted in Raylas’ mind and he leapt away as soon as the wood cracked off. He landed and rolled, coming to a stop as the ground shook. He peered at where he was standing to see a huge block of stone sitting silently. The smoke and flames extinguished beneath it. Trunks of wood were hovering above it and slowly turned to him.

“You killed one of your own to stop a fire?” he snapped at the Dryads. He yanked at the chain and pulled the hanging creature, its vines snapping at his strength. “Have you no shame?”

“One of our own?” the first creature asked, the hole in her chest slowly knitting itself shut.

“She was on fire and you killed her,” he snapped as he managed to snap the branches which held the rest of his chain. He started to spin the blade as the weight landed by his feet.

“She has not died,” the hanging creature managed to say before the weakened vines snapped, dropping her to the ground. She pushed herself up, appearing to not notice her limbs were cracked or broken. “How can something not alive die?”

“We are pieces for you to understand us,” the first continued.

“The voice to what?” Raylas pushed, then he turned to the large tree.

Of course. The dryads in front of him were not the true entity, but the ‘mother tree’ is. That is what she called it. So if he was to kill them he would have to kill the tree first.

The looming entity before him made him gulp. He needed to somehow kill this thing with a dagger. He would not be able to cut it down even if he had the greatest axe in the kingdom. But hopeless causes never stopped him before. He faced down a horde of zombies alone, he managed to get away from them as well using only the stories told to him by older mercenaries. He would either win this battle, or he would die like a true warrior.

He smiled and launched the dagger toward the trunk. He heard the Dryads shout in shock and the cracking of wood sounded around him. Once the blade struck the trunk of the tree the world seemed to tremble as a shriek pierced the air.

Raylas felt liquid flow down his ears and the world went quiet. The ground beneath him split and he felt himself fly up into the air. Roots, leaves, moss, plant life, everything around him came to life and wrapped around him. His hands were whipped by vines of thorns and he felt roots dig beneath his armor.

Launched himself, the strands of plant life tying themselves to his feet snapped. He yanked the chain and heard a crack as a small chunk of wood broke off the tree. He gathered it together and sprinted, jumping onto the large block. The druids were wailing as they rushed toward him, even the one that was broken lurched forward to climb onto the piece of stone.

Other figures rose in the shadow of the trees. More maidens emerged from the moss and wood, lowering themselves from the branches from above. They extended their hands and branches of wood launched out toward him.

He dodged one of the trunks which carried the stone, then dripped to the ground as a hurricane of sticks flew through the air of where he was standing. He slid the chain in his hands close to him and pulled the piece of bark off the dagger. He threw the weight and spun it around, snapping the wooden sticks above him.

Using the momentum he launched the dagger into the air and wrapped it around one of the maidens and leapt from the platform, soaring over the mossy meadow and then yanked the chain as he neared the edge of the tree’s shadow. He landed with a thump on the ground, hitting solid stone.

He pulled the chain and heard a screech as the wooden creature was dragged along as he sprinted out of the tree’s territory.

His heart thudded in his chest as he ran from the tree and back into the ruins. Stones burst from the ground, getting launched by plants pushing through the soil. He managed to dodge most of them, but as he grew further from the tree the snow grew thicker.

A particularly large stone flew to his head when he neared the creek and he bent over to avoid it. The soil beneath his feet gave way and he plummeted a short distance into the freezing water. He gasped and sprung out as quickly as he could but he felt a vine wrap around his arm.

He pulled on it but the thick strand held. He then felt a claw grasp his ankle and looked down to see the smiling face of a chain-wrapped maiden clinging to him.

He gave her a swift kick but the mud gave away again causing him to crash into the bank. Another figure leapt over him and grasped him around his chest. Then another hand burst from the ground in a spray of pebbles, wrapping around his neck.

“Shit…” he gasped as the wood slowly contracted around him.