His hold on his weapon was forcefully broken and the chain fell. Vines slithered beneath his armor and wrapped around his limbs. He felt his body flex and stretch in painful, unnatural ways but nothing snapped yet. He strained against it but it was in vain.

The forms around him withered away, opening his view to the outside again. The wooden maidens had withered away into hollow husks, their eyes dead. The ruins near him had been decimated, more so than they already were. It looked like a small forest had burst from the ground to wrap around him.

At the edge of the road where he entered he saw a creature. Bark covered her body and she had branches expanding off her head, leaves growing off of them. Her shoulders and joints were thick with wood, and her hands appeared to be thick, flexible thorns with a dark liquid dripping off the edges. Her body was thick and round like the trunk of a tree, but where her feet should be were a tangle of roots which flexed to allow her to move.

She reached for the dagger which was wrapped round one of the husks and flinched away when she came into contact. She faced Raylas, her eyes a blazing green. It was like looking into the sun.

He gulped as a pressure against his mind tried to overcome him. A feeling of danger and bloodlust enveloped him as the creature slithered toward him.

She loomed over him, easily the size of two adult men. Raylas flinched as the plants in his armor strained his arms and legs back to keep him from moving, but his head was locked in place by two branches wrapped around his helmet.

“It might be my lack of breath, but you look a bit different than the others,” he gasped at the face of death.

“Before we were testing your fangs to see if you were worthy of living in the forest, but you have attacked the mother tree,” the true form of the dryad rumbled. “Your life is forfeit.”

“So all your talk of the forest being able to survive being burned down was a lie?” Raylas prodded. “A poor little dagger stabbing the trunk was enough to kill the forest?”

“The forest will survive, and your corpse shall feed the mother tree’s healing.” She tilted her head, the leaves rustling as if a wind blew through them. “Do you not fear dying, predator?”

“I won’t lie to say I prefer to live,” he said as he struggled against his bindings.

“Most would be screaming in fear at the current situation, yet you taunt and joke?” She seemed genuinely curious. She glided forward and stopped just a few feet from him, her thorny hands reached out and scraped against his armor.

When the black liquid touched the metal it hissed. An acidic smell filled the air and a small hole appeared in the metal. The liquid seemed to evaporate quickly so none of it leaked onto his skin, but his heart sped up slightly seeing how quickly it destroyed dwarven crafted armor.

“When you face death enough, you get used to it.” He slammed his head against his helmet, twisting his body until he heard a snap. The latch holding the helmet broke which allowed him to twist his torso slightly. The metal rose up and he felt a cold wind hit his face directly. He twisted his head to bite the wood and started to chew.

The wood was tough and grainy. It also tasted like, surprise, wood.

“It is useless,” she rumbled. “Your fangs will not break your bindings. Your measly strength will not be able to take me down.” She stared down at him, but she did not move. Her glowing eyes observing his movements like someone watching an animal struggle against a cage.

Raylas bit down as hard as he could until he felt a small give and he tore a bit of the wood away. He pulled it and spit it out, smiling with a splintered mouth. He bit back down into the wood but it twisted beneath his teeth. He let go and watched as the small bit he tore off regrew becoming whole again.

“That was useless,” he chuckled.

“I already said that.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to use a trump card to escape,” he laughed.

The dryad arched what would be an eyebrow and raised her hand. The wood started to constrict his throat. Raylas took in one final breath before letting out a gasped phrase.

“Otote…”

* * *

The world twisted and shifted as he found himself inside the dungeon. He burst out laughing as he flexed his muscles while lying on the ground.

A lantern flew down and lit up. He swatted it away but missed when it dodged his attack. He shrugged and sat up and looked around the room. He saw a small pile of supplies nearby, obviously quickly dropped off by the girl. He stood up to give it a quick look to see what he could gather to escape from this place.

He groaned as he saw most of what was in them was just clothing. He set the pile to the side and peered at the miscellaneous things. The metal pen was in here, as well as the journal from the Captain. A small glint also made him raise his eyebrows.

The golden ring was lying on the floor by the two rubies. He reached down to pick it up but once he touched it he felt a burning cold erupt in his hand. He yelped back, clutching his forearm.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“What the hell!” he bellowed.

Only a quiet echo replied to his outcry. He frowned and turned away from the ring to observe his surroundings. There wasn’t much at the entrance of the area, just a flat area surrounding the large hole leading down. The enormous flag hung limply in the chambers, dipping below.

He sighed and gathered his things. He entered the dungeon with one goal, to escape the forest. So if the door he entered from was the entrance then there had to be an exit somewhere else.

He frowned when he tried to tap the chain. It was not on his belt. He sighed remembering he had only recently released it from the bashing of the forest. He scratched his arms, small cuts covering them from where thorns were dragged across his body. He felt his neck that was once covered in wood and released a relieved breath.

He was free for now, but who knows how long that would last.

He moved to the stairs and paused, looking down as they spiraled downward a level. Below was a maze of bridges and staircases, but only one led to the top. He started down, listening and watching for any movement. Who knows what monsters defended a place like this?

His footsteps echoed. The torch followed him, just above his head lighting the way. As he got close to the end of the spiral a few more lanterns flew down from the entrance and made a triangle, circling around a lectern which held a small book.

Raylas looked back and forth, searching for any ambushers from this obvious trap. There was no way he would fall for it.

But his mind itched, pushing him to read the book. There was an urge just like he felt when he realized he could read the chain, and the ring. He turned and decided to follow the railings instead of going to the book, but the further he walked the harder the itch was to ignore. It craved that book. It had to know what it said.

He paused only a dozen steps and scrunched his brows together, willing that feeling to go away. It refused. He tried to take another step but his body felt stiff. It was like getting stuck in a tub of honey, slick but sticky. Holding him in place.

With a sigh he turned to the book. The itch lessened slightly. He really wanted to know, didn’t it. That sixth sense which had followed him all his life was pushing him to fall for an obvious trap. He waited, his breath struggling to keep under control.

With a curse he threw up his hands. If it wanted to go to the book then he would go to the damn book. If something was going to attack him then he at least could move to fight before getting killed. Not like out in the forest.

He strode over and grabbed the tome, flinging it open with a small thud. The words on the first page seemed to fly out into his eyes and he understood their words.

> “If you are reading this then I am dead. Welcome, the new Matriarch, or Patriarch, of the Aasim bloodline.”

It was a simple greeting. Raylas flung around and held up his fists, waiting. If something was to attack it would be now, when the scholar was stupidly absorbed in the book. He grinned and waited. And waited.

Nothing happened.

Was there no ambush? He stood up and released his fists, turning and peering at the dark alleys between the shelves. He strained his ears to hear any types of skittering for steps from the monsters which hid in the dark recesses of the world. He calmed himself and widened his senses to see if he could catch a hint of bloodlust, the feeling of being watched and hunted. But there was nothing but stillness.

Maybe he truly was alone in this… vault.

He looked at the book. The words were neatly written and the pages crisp. There was no wear or tear like he saw in the maps and pages the Captain used. It was like it was just pressed and bound together, like those he saw in the larger cities. Books that nobles and merchants loved to own, for whatever reason.

> “If you are reading this then I am dead. Welcome, the new Matriarch, or Patriarch, of the Aasim bloodline.

>

> “I am Laurina Moonwood, the last member of the Aasim line, the cursed family of monster slayers. I am sure you are confused, but know this: An Aasim is a warrior no matter where you are born. We are not a family of blood despite the talk of a bloodline, but one of destiny. We make ourselves known by our deeds, which are dictated by fate. You have become an Aasim because you were chosen to do so by beings greater than the world.

>

> “That is why, as an Aasim, it is our duty to piss off those beings and by doing what we damn well wish despite what they want.”

Raylas smiled and nodded to the words of the dead woman. This was the Wyrm slayer, the one who slayed the beast who laid in the golden ocean below. She was cursed just like him. He took in a breath but struggled to contain himself, his lungs seeming to not want to inflate properly.

> “You have completed the first test of the Aasim heritage by managing to enter the vault, but know that not everything is open for fresh blood. You must earn your way down into the depths of the Vault to take the treasures from below. For now I have designed this place to only allow you access to the first level. Only when you figure out the puzzles I have prepared will you be able to go down to the next. These will involve the qualifications for one to be an Aasim.

>

> “But a warning before you go. Do not be greedy and rush to the treasures. Even though this bag is large it is still only a bag of holding. Your body remains unguarded as you are in here, so find companions to protect you as you grow. An Aasim is one of deeds, so you must do work in the real world. This place is meant to only be a sanctuary where you can learn from your predecessors and store your treasures. Tread here for extended times carefully.”

Raylas froze and reread the passage. His brows furrowed and his breath came in gasps now.

This was a bag of holding, not a dungeon? He was still outside even if he was in here?

He looked down at his arms and realized the itching he felt was the cuts slowly growing in size. He could barely breathe now. If the book was telling the truth then he was still outside, the wood would have been growing continuously around his neck.

He had not found an escape here, only delayed his death.

If he also understood right there was only one exit, the one he entered from. He gasped in a breath. It was becoming harder.

Breathing every profane he could think of he started to the stairs but paused as he was about to ascend. He was helpless out there. If he would rush out there it would only speed up his death. His death had apparently slowed down here which meant he had a short time to plan.

The first thing he needed was a weapon. Something that could hurt wood. He rushed to the shelves and cursed when seeing only books. He didn’t have time, but there was one thing he knew. A vault had treasure. He just had to find it quickly.