Kai barely had time to lower Asha to the ground before the air shifted.
A sudden rustle stirred the grove. Roots groaned, vines slithered.
The womanly figure before him glared with her eyes that glowed faintly, sharp and suspicious, like emeralds catching firelight.
Tall and imposing, her form is lithe but taut, like a bowstring drawn to full tension. Her skin bears the muted tone of dark bark streaked with faint crimson veins, as if thorn-roots run beneath it. Her hair spills in stiff, vine-like cords tipped with small, blood-red blossoms.
Without speaking, she raised her hand.
The ground erupted. Thorn-laden vines burst forth, coiling and twisting around him, sharp tips aimed at Kai's throat, his chest, his heart.
His stomach dropped. He was immediately surrounded with no escape in sight.
He threw himself down, knees slamming into the earth and dropping his weapons to the ground.
"Wait! I surrender!" His voice cracked under the weight of fear, though he raised his arms up high in earnest desperation. "Please—I mean no harm!"
The thorns did not stop. They hissed closer, brushing so near that Kai could feel their needles prickling at his skin, ready to pierce.
Sweat trickled down his temple. He clenched his teeth, refusing to move, terrified that even a flinch would invite death.
Then—
Wait.
The word was not spoken aloud. It was a presence, a voice that resonated in the marrow of his bones, calm and resonant, like an elder tree whispering through the wind.
The hostile woman froze. Her narrowed eyes flickered. For an instant, her expression broke into conflict, then tightened again.
He is a trespasser, she projected in thought, her gaze never leaving Kai. The wards should have turned him aside. He drags corruption with him. We cannot risk our grove.
The unseen voice only she could hear replied with serene patience. And yet, do you not sense it? Something about him… different. Let us hear before we judge.
A long silence stretched. Kai's heart pounded so violently he thought it might burst.
At last, the thorned vines retracted, slinking back into the earth like retreating serpents. In their place came smooth, supple tendrils that wound themselves around his limbs.
They lifted him effortlessly into the air, binding but not piercing, suspending him as if he were a child caught stealing fruit.
From deeper within the grove came another figure.
She was of the same kind, but unlike the first, her presence was not sharp and unyielding.
She moved with a quiet gravity, her curves and bearing resembling the full bloom of summer, mature and serene.
Curvaceous and statuesque, her figure holds a ripened fullness that suggests both nurturing and power. Her skin glows with the luster of polished oak touched by sunlight. Her long hair cascades like ivy interwoven with pale-gold blossoms, and her eyes gleam with wisdom, deep and tranquil as moss-covered stone.
Her skin glowed faintly with an inner warmth, and the flowers woven into her hair seemed to shift their petals toward her face as though basking in her essence.
The vines lowered Kai until he hovered before her. Her gaze lingered not on him at first, but on Asha's still form. Only after a long moment did she meet his eyes.
"You crossed our ward," she said, her voice low and steady, carrying the timbre of rustling leaves. "Few mortals even perceive it, fewer still pass through unscathed. How is it that you stand here, boy? What drives you into our heartwood?"
Kai's throat worked. His instinct screamed to lie, to veil his words. But his mother's ragged breath reached his ears, and the truth tumbled out.
"I… I don't know why your ward let me through. I only know that I had no choice." His voice broke as he looked at Asha, her chest rising shallowly. "She's been poisoned. I've searched and searched, but nothing I tried could slow it. Please, if you can do anything—anything—save her!"
His voice rang raw, but his eyes burned clear.
The mature woman tilted her head slightly. There was no pity in her gaze, but there was perception.
She studied the frantic youth before her as though peeling back layers of bark, weighing the truth of his words.
Then, she lifted her hand. Vines as soft as braided silk rose gently, curling beneath Asha's body, lifting her from the forest floor with surprising delicacy.
The poisoned woman was borne away, vanishing deeper into the grove beyond Kai's sight.
"No—wait!" Kai struggled against his bindings, panic flooding him. "Where are you taking her?"
"Peace." The woman's voice cut like a river smoothing stone, calm yet unyielding. "If we wished her dead, we would not bother. We will heal her." She paused, then added, "But healing is never without price."
Her gaze sharpened, and for the first time Kai felt the full weight of her presence—ancient, commanding, like an oak that had stood for a thousand storms.
"You will repay us."
The words were not threat nor kindness, but fact.
Kai's fists clenched against the vines. He had no leverage, no choice. His heart hammered, but his voice steadied.
"Then I'll repay you," he said. "Anything within my power. Just… don't let her die."
A slow smile curved the mature woman's lips, soft and unreadable. With a flick of her fingers, the vines binding him loosened, slithering away until his feet touched the mossy ground.
"Follow, then," she said, turning gracefully. Her figure slipped between towering stalks and broad-leafed plants that seemed to part for her passage.
The younger woman remained behind him, eyes sharp as thorns, a silent reminder that one misstep would mean his end.
Kai swallowed hard, casting one last look in the direction his mother had been taken, before forcing his legs to move. Each step was heavy with fear, but also with a fragile, burning hope.
Kai trudged forward, flanked by the two women. His hands brushed against tall grass and flowers that leaned away from him as though wary of his touch. Each step only deepened the knot of worry twisting in his chest.
Finally, his voice broke the silence.
"How… how will you heal her?" His throat was dry, but the question burst out all the same. "What are you going to do to her?"
The mature dryad did not slow her graceful steps. Her hair swayed like ivy, her voice calm and measured.
"She will rest within the cocoon of a great bloom. The nectar will seep into her body, slow and patient, dissolving the poison and improving her constitution. It is not instant, but it is certain."
Kai's heart thumped faster. A flower… it sounded so strange, so alien, yet the certainty in the woman's voice made him cling to it.
Before he could press her for details, the canopy thinned, and they emerged into a small clearing.
The sight stole his breath.
A small meadow stretched before him, dotted with blossoms of every hue—deep indigos, fiery crimsons, golden crowns, and pale luminescence that glowed faintly as if kissed by starlight.
The air was thick with fragrance, heady and dizzying.
From within the field, three more figures emerged.
The first two looked barely older than young teens, their eyes bright with wonder.
One was slim and delicate, with the fragile grace of a young willow. Her skin is pale green, smooth as new leaves in spring. Her hair tumbles in a cascade of silken fronds, shifting colors with the light, from fresh mint to pale yellow. Small, unopened buds cling to her wrists and ankles like bracelets. Her laughter bubbling unbidden as she studied Kai with unashamed curiosity.
The other was quieter, her gaze wide but cautious. Her form is willowy and long-limbed, with skin like pale birch bark traced by faint silver lines. Her hair flows sleek and dark, almost black, but streaked with veins of white that shimmer faintly. Her eyes are amber, reflective like tree sap hardened in sunlight.
The third carried herself with a youthful pride as she muttered, "So this is the trespasser."
Shorter than the rest, sprightly in form, her skin is peach-tinted like the petals of a wildflower. Her hair bursts around her shoulders in waves of bright, petal-like locks—pink, violet, and white blending together. Tiny blossoms bloom constantly in her hair, falling like drifting confetti when she moves.
Her posture suggested she was ready to defend, but her expression was more measured than the thorny sentinel's.
The five gathered in a circle, the flowers trembling faintly as though alive beneath their feet.
The mature one raised her hand gently, commanding silence. She turned her gaze to him, pausing before speaking.
"I am Seliora, warden of this grove. These are my sisters—Lethis," she gestured to the thorny dryad at Kai's side, who glared in silence, "and beside her, Thyra, Aven, and little Sira. We are dryads, beings that are one with nature."
Kai marveled but wasn't too surprised. He already had an inkling at what kind of creatures they were.
Instead, he focused on each dryad as they were named and etched them into his memory.
Seliora was the eldest and the leader of the group.
Lethis was the aggressive one who almost killed him.
Thyra was the short one, youthful with energy that matches.
Aven was the quiet one who watches on calmly.
Sira was the youngest and brimming with playfulness and curiosity.
Each dryad inclined her head in turn, though their expressions varied—curiosity, doubt, even faint amusement.
"And you," Seliora continued, her voice lilting like a lullaby woven with steel, "who are you, boy? What name do you carry, and what ties bind you to the woman you bore here?"
Kai straightened, pressing a hand against his chest to appear respectful. "My name is Kai. That woman is my mother, Asha." His words quivered with both fear and pride. "She is everything to me. Without her, I'd have… I'd have nothing."
The circle fell quiet. For a moment, the meadow seemed to listen with them.
Seliora's eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze drifting over his arms, his skin, his breath. "And your body?" she asked at last. "Your presence is not that of an ordinary mortal. There is blood and bark in you, fire and root. Tell us what has been done to you."
The weight of her words pressed into Kai's chest. He could lie. He could dodge. But Asha's life was in their hands, and falsehood might seal her fate. He forced his lungs to draw a breath, then spoke without hesitation.
"I once encountered a terrifying beast, with metal-like scales and leathery wings who breathed fire. A dragon. I should have died. But… I survived and found a scale of that dragon. Its blood mixed with mine, burned through me, and I survived." He paused, his hands trembling slightly. "Later, I was torn apart again, nearly dead. But a tree—a tree with a spirit, maybe—took me in. It merged with me, healed me, changed me. Now… I don't know what I am."
The young dryads gasped softly. Even the stern Lethis's expression flickered, though it quickly hardened again.
Seliora alone regarded him with a knowing calm, as if puzzle pieces she had long carried finally slid into place.
"I see." She folded her arms, her gaze distant for a heartbeat before settling back on him. "Then you are bound by both fire and root. It explains why our ward let you pass."
Kai's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Seliora's tone grew heavier. "We were not always five. Once, there were many more of us, living deeper within the forest. That place was our cradle, our true grove. But it was torn apart." Her eyes darkened like storm clouds. "A beast came—fearsome, merciless, powerful. It devoured our kin, uprooted our trees, and defiled our heartwood. Only the five of us escaped, because our sisters gave their lives to shield us."
The younger dryads lowered their heads, grief thick in the air.
Seliora continued, voice soft but unyielding. "We fled far, carrying fragments of our essence. Here, we seeded new roots. Here, we hid. To keep out the wild and the cruel, we wove our energy into a ward, a veil to mislead eyes and turn aside trespassers. But it has cost us dearly. We are weakened still, only slowly mending. And then…" her gaze swept back to him, "you arrived. A body infused with vitality unlike any mortal's. A vessel of fire and root, of blood and bloom. You could help us heal. Restore what we have lost."
Kai's stomach tightened. "Help you… how? Do you need me to gather something? Fight something? My blood, maybe?"
Seliora's lips curved faintly, though not in cruelty.
"No, Kai." She stepped closer, her presence enveloping him like summer warmth. Her hand lifted, fingers brushing the air just before his chest, where his heart beat fast. "Not your blood. Your vitality. Your essence."
Her eyes held his, unblinking.
"Your seed."