Deep within a lush forest on a remote moon, a young girl shrouded in tattered rags ambled toward a small meadow strewn with broken wood and scattered skeletons. Her frame was slight, almost too thin for her age, yet she moved with the vitality of youth. Her oversized, tattered garments and a hood that enveloped her face in darkness—almost as if by some enchantment—whispered stories of hardship. Yet, she navigated deftly through the debris of shattered timbers and wooden beams, remnants that seemed to have lain among the trees for decades.
Around her, skeletons of various forms lay intertwined with the forest floor—monsters and perhaps adventurers who once sought fortune, only to meet their ends impaled by tree roots. The gruesome tableau of their demise did not deter the girl; her gaze from within her hood remained steady, undisturbed as she continued toward the heart of the wreckage. There, at the center, stood a tree unlike any other.
Its long and supportive roots sprawled like those of a mangrove, cradling the trunk above the ground. The leaves were like cherry blossoms, only shimmering in hues of pink and cyan, changing with the play of light—or rather in tone with the mana in the air. It was as if the tree flickered between moods, its curiosity piqued by the child’s presence.
“Hello! What’s your name?” the child waved to the tree.
Again, the girl spoke with an unseen smile concealed by her oversized ragged hood, “That’s a very pretty name. It’s nice to meet you—” She paused, nodding as if affirming a secret only she could hear while the forest around her whispered through the sway of silent branches.
“I’m just trying to get away from the dark elves,” she confided in response to an unheard query.
“Monsters? Oh, no, I’m not worried about monsters. They’re always nice to me. It’s the undead and people that always try to come after me,” she explained to the tree, her voice mixing curiosity with a trace of solemnity.
Suddenly, the branches ceased swaying, tensing as if poised to pounce, as another figure stepped into the wreckage surrounding the tree. A towering figure clad in worn, scarred armor appeared, but where flesh should have been, only bones were visible through the gaps in the broken armor. Sensing an impending clash, the girl lunged forward—not away, but positioning herself between the skeleton and the tree.
“Boney is with me!” she exclaimed.
With deliberate slowness, the girl reached up to her hood. She gently pulled it back, revealing skin coated in dirt and grime, and yet, a soft, pale white light bathed her features in an ethereal luminescence. As the hood fell away, two small horns peeking through her white hair became visible atop her head.
The girl let out a long sigh. “He doesn’t talk much, well, at all… Yes, I did say the undead are always coming after me, but this one doesn’t… No, I’m not sure why, and yes, I do get the vibe he’d rather kill me than help me, but he still protects me,” she answered several unheard questions.
As she spoke, the tree’s branches began to sway once more. There was a subtle shift in their movement, particularly around the massive undead figure, almost as if a slight vendetta existed. However, the girl could not figure out what that could be.
Feeling the tension between the tree and the undead settle down, albeit reluctantly, the girl noticed a skeleton with horns upon their head. Still, that wasn’t what caught her eye, but rather the carved wooden object embedded with a gleaming crystal. With hurried steps, the girl went toward the skeleton, picking up the wooden object by the handle and moving it toward her face to examine it.
“It’s just like mine,” she muttered to the tree, reaching into her tattered garments and pulling out an identical object. “They’re flintlock pistols, well… I suppose I can’t call them flintlock since they don’t use any flint, but it’s identical to the one I have,” she cheerfully exclaimed, her wonder evident.
“…Wait! You mean it?” the girl’s glowing white eyes widened in surprise before adding, “Thank you! Having two would be really nice. This one has already been very helpful… Yeah, I’m pretty much a Wolverine. I can heal from anything thrown at me, although I’m utterly useless in a fight,” she confessed to the tree, her voice tinged with a pout. “But hey! At least I can dual-wield now,” she smiled, holding both pistols out before her as if pretending to shoot something.
“Where did I find the first pistol? Oh, a vulture—or at least it seemed like one—dropped it. You know, it’s tricky identifying the magical creatures here.” The girl rummaged through her ragged coat, carefully putting away the first pistol as her fingers brushed against another unexpected treasure left by the birds. She held up a handful of nuts and berries with a delighted grin. “These little surprises, mostly food, are a real lifesaver.”
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She leaned closer to the tree, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And Boney? He’s amazing at hunting, so the gifts aren’t as frequent.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her glowing eyes. “But between you and me? Cooking’s not his forte. He turns every meal into charcoal.”
“My parents? T-That’s a bit complicated,” the girl hesitated, slightly stepping back from the tree. She tugged at the edge of her hood, her gaze drifting upward. “My dark elf mother died when I was really little. I never knew my father—or mother? She was apparently a succubus, which... I don’t really get how the anatomy works there. Maybe magic?” She shrugged, a wistful smile fleeting across her features. “Though, I had heard somewhere that succubusses could shape-shift their genders... What? It’s succubi? Are you sure? Succubusses sounds better.”
“…Yeah. My other mother was a Priestess to some dark goddess, and I know very little about my other one, not even her name…”
“My name? I was named after the moon where my dark elf mother came from.” Her voice trailed off as she pointed to a shattered blue and green moon in the sky. A hint of sorrow softened her tone. “Gaia, though, I prefer to go by Zoe.” Her tone, already barely a whisper, seemed to drop to but a breath, “turns out, we were both reincarnations from Earth.”
“So?!” Zoe interjected. “How long have you been here?” Her voice carried a desire to talk about anything other than what those memories had brought up. As the silence lingered, her forehead wrinkled with concern. “...you don’t remember?” she murmured, more to herself than to the tree, her tone softening to convey her sympathy.
Zoe returned to nodding as if engaged in a deep, one-sided dialogue, her gestures punctuating the silence. Nearby, her skeletal guardian remained a silent sentinel, its hollow gaze methodically scanning the surroundings for any hint of danger. The only life in the otherwise still forest came from the gentle sway of the branches and a lone black raven lurking in the shadows, its watchful eyes glittering.
“…Wait—are you sure?” She paused, seeking confirmation from the stillness around her. Reassured by a silent nod only she could perceive, she continued, “Yeah. It is getting late, but I’m not worried about monsters.” A smile lit up Zoe’s luminous face as she spoke to the tree, “Okay, I’ll stay the night here, thank you.” Her gratitude was as clear as the soft glow of her features against the deepening twilight.
Suddenly, Zoe burst into giggles, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the tree. “Nobody says sweet nightmares,” she chuckled, the smile lingering on her lips as she settled into a soft patch of moss beside the tree for the night. As she lay down, she glanced up at the tree, her voice soft and affectionate, “Sweet dreams, Aislinn.”
The sleeping child drifted into dreams as darkness enveloped the forest, creating a gentle ambiance around her. A narrow crevice quietly opened from the tree, revealing the world to a dryad. This ethereal figure, nude and elegant, had smooth green flesh and hair that shimmered in pinks and blues, mirroring the hues of the tree above her. She stepped out gracefully, her gaze falling tenderly upon the child. She could feel the radiating mana, filled with life, wafting from the girl’s slumbering form.
It had been ages since Aislinn had interacted with anyone without the urge to murder them and drain every drop of blood to nourish her tree. It was... refreshing. Yet, it was a shame how she grappled with her memories of the past, experiencing only fleeting glimpses from time to time, paired with a longing to reunite with someone she could not remember. It was both saddening and maddening that peace only found her within the realms of her nightmares.
Smiling warmly, the dryad’s expression shifted from the child when her eyes met the skeleton standing vigil. An abomination that defied both life and death and yet, here it was, a guardian. A flicker of revulsion passed over her features, but it was brief. Her attention, along with that of the skeleton, soon turned towards the thicket of bristling trees and bushes at the meadow’s edge, signaling a stirring unease in the quiet forest.
Three figures, dark elves, emerged into the meadow, each wielding a weapon as they scanned their surroundings, hunting for their quarry.
“Are you sure the white witch came this way?” one of them hissed, eyes darting suspiciously.
“Yes! The tracks don’t lie,” another retorted sharply, but his words trailed off as his gaze landed on the pale glow emanating from the child’s sleeping face. However, their focus swiftly shifted as the massive skeleton, standing guard, brandished a colossal claymore, commanding their immediate attention.
The third elf dropped to a knee, nocking an arrow in their bow and aiming it at the skeleton. “This would have been so much easier with magic,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Just shut up and take care of the skeleton,” snapped another, his voice tinged with frustration. “Magic has become too rare these days, ever since that bitch of a dark goddess destroyed the system. It’s time to get revenge on the daughter of the deity’s high priestess.” Their words hung heavy in the air, filled with a bitter resolve.
As the archer released the drawstring, the expected twang of the arrow was absent. Instead, there was silence. The other two elves turned, their gazes dropping to the archer, now entangled in creeping vines.
“What the hells?” one of them gasped in horror as the vines began draining the archer’s blood. His flesh shriveled within seconds, his life ebbing away before their eyes.
Then, emerging into their view was a dryad, Aislinn’s presence marked by a cruel smile that played across her face. That night, the lives of all three men were extinguished just meters from where the child slept blissfully, unaware of the dark nightmares unfolding around her.
In the shadows, an entity observed the scene through the eyes of a raven perched nearby. A reaper in raven form, now also fixated on the dryad, relayed a sense of dark delight to its mistress. They had found the missing piece to a long-awaited nightmare.
To Be Continued…
image [https://i.imgur.com/RqeJHW9.png]