The silence didn't last. As we walked further into the city, figures began to emerge from the wooden houses and from behind the bookshelves. They were Dryads. They moved with a slow, fluid grace, their bodies made of the same silver-barked wood as the trees. Some were tall and slender, their branches reaching for the sky like palm trees. Others were short and stout, their trunks as wide as a barrel. Their faces were serene, their expressions unreadable, but their eyes, when they met mine, were ancient and knowing.
I tried to make myself small. I didn't want to draw any attention. I was just a tourist, a lost traveler who would be on her way in a few minutes. No need for a fuss.
The Demon King, of course, did the exact opposite.
He walked through the city as if he owned it. His head was held high, his shoulders back, a king surveying his subjects. He didn't look at the Dryads, but I could feel the tension in the air, the way the forest seemed to hold its breath around him. He was a foreign element, a drop of poison in a pool of pure water.
The Dryads began to gather, forming a silent, watching crowd on either side of the path. They didn't speak. They didn't move. They just watched, their ancient eyes following our every step. It was unnerving. Like being in a museum where the statues were alive.
"Okay," I whispered to Angus, who was hovering so close to me I could feel the breeze from his wings. "This is getting a little weird. Should we be worried?"
[Maybe? 🤔] Angus's text box appeared. [They don't really like outsiders. But they usually don't do anything unless you're, you know, breaking stuff or being a jerk. So we should be fine! Probably! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ]
I glanced at the demon king, who was radiating enough 'jerk' energy to power a small city. "Yeah. I'm not so sure about the 'probably' part."
The crowd of Dryads parted, and another figure stepped onto the path. She was taller than the others, her form more slender, more elegant. Her wood was a darker, richer shade of silver, and her leaves were the deep green of a summer forest. She moved with an authority that the others seemed to respect, a natural grace that was both intimidating and mesmerizing.
She stopped in the middle of the path, blocking our way. She looked at the demon king, her expression unreadable. Then, she looked at me. Her eyes were a deep, mossy green, and when they met mine, I felt a strange, tingling sensation, like a gentle current flowing through the air between us.
Who are you?
The voice wasn't a sound. It was a thought, a feeling that bloomed in my mind. It was ancient and powerful, a chorus of a thousand voices speaking as one.
"I... I'm Violet," I said, my voice a little shaky. "We're just... passing through."
The Dryad's gaze shifted to the demon king. I could feel a wave of disapproval, a cold, distant disdain that was so strong it was almost a physical thing. He is not welcome here.
Well. She's a good judge of character. I'll give her that.
I looked at the demon king, expecting a sneer, a sarcastic comment, a threat. He just stood there, his expression unreadable. He was a statue, a monument of contempt in a city made of living wood.
"He's... with me," I said, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate. "He won't cause any trouble."
He is a creature of destruction, the Dryad's thought-voice echoed in my mind. He reeks of fire and pain. His presence is a blight upon this forest.
"I'm aware," I said, my tone a little sharper than I intended. "Believe me, I am very, very aware." I took a deep breath. "We don't want any trouble. We just want to get to the other side of the forest."
The Dryad was silent for a long moment. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her judgment. The other Dryads stood as still as statues, their eyes fixed on us.
He is not welcome here.
Did they even listen to me at all? "I know he's not welcome. I'm not exactly fond of him myself. But the other side of the forest is the only way to get to Sylverhaven."
Sylverhaven. The name felt foreign on my tongue, a place I didn't know, a destination chosen by a monster. It was a thin excuse, a flimsy reason to risk the wrath of these ancient beings. But it was all I had.
It had the benefit, at least, of being the truth.
I think.
Unless my intimidating escort has been lying to me just to kill dryads...or something.
But...
He's not from this world, right? How would he possibly even know the Dryads existed here, let alone what they were like or why he should kill them?
The fact he knew so much already is weird. Very, very weird.
I don't really have any evidence that he's lying.
Even less than I have that he's telling the truth.
The city of mortals is of no concern to us. The Dryad's thought-voice was cold, dismissive. Your presence here is an intrusion. His is a violation.
The demon king finally spoke, his tone a low, bored murmur. "I know you have a reputation to protect, oh Whisperwood, but it's rather boring listening to your rambling by thought alone." He turned to face me, not her. His expression was one of profound irritation. "And this is the last place on this world that I wish to remain. The sheer stench of these things is giving me a headache."
He turned back to the Dryad leader. "This wretch of a summoner and I are traveling to Sylverhaven. That is all. We are not staying for tea."
No sense of humor seems to be a natural part of being a Dryad in this world. It brings to mind more treants than dryads...
But, well. Unless one of the giant trees stood up and tried to eat me I can't know for sure there's not both. Unless giant trees were posing as dryad figures to somehow herd us right to a place we could be eaten in.
...But that's probably not the case.