Cara clung tight to Ted as they flew, his warmth staving off the chill nipping at her cheeks and ears. Whatever was up with him, he wasn’t saying.

Not that he needed to. She’d let him down. He’d needed her and she’d fled back home. Abandoned their quest.

Abandoned him.

“There,” he said, pointing down at a spot in the canopy that looked no different to any other around it—black, rotting, dying.

Cara stared down at her poor Forest. Even in its sad state, the canopy was still more than thick enough to make seeing the forest floor impossible. “You’re sure?”

Ted cast another spell before nodding. “Yeah, there’s a dryad there. You’re clear on the plan?”

Vines twisted in Cara’s stomach. “It won’t work. The Forest’s too dead here.”

He sighed. “No living trees, no tree-song. Right.”

“Drop me in. I can make it work.”

“No way. Do you have any idea how many dungeon spawn are down there?”

“Do you?”

Ted gritted his teeth, but cast the Divination spell anyway. “None here, but they won’t be far.”

“I won’t need long. And you’ll be right here, ready to swoop in any pull me away.”

“Unless they block Force magic.”

Thorns stabbed at her insides. She ignored them—if Ted died, he’d come back again. She wasn’t losing anyone else, not this time. “We can do it, and it needs to be done.”

He met her gaze, and eventually nodded. “Fine. But if I say run, we run—got it?”

“That how it is, Lookout?”

“I’m serious Cara. I… we don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. Now, drop me down there—” she pointed a little way away from the Dryad, in the direction of the closest living part of the Forest “—and keep your distance.”

Ted bit at his bottom lip, but trusted in her judgement for once. He cast a Telepathy spell, and a mental presence pressed against her mind. Ready?

Ready.

They descended quickly, pushing through black leaves riddled with holes. Cara held on tight, focusing on her breathing, stilling her mind.

The Forest would survive. It always did.

The ground approached rapidly. When it was close enough, she kissed Ted on the cheek and let go, dropping down into a controlled roll to break her fall. Go. I’ll call when I need you.

She activated Stealth and snuck toward the dryad, wishing it didn’t all feel wrong. Her feet told her she was home, that this was her Forest—but the tree-song was gone here, snuffed out by the death those creatures had wrought.

The dryad soon came into view, dancing that twisted dance, destroying what few pockets of life remained.

Cara took a deep breath, trying desperately to push away thoughts she couldn’t afford to be having. What if Ted had it all wrong? What if the Dryads couldn’t be reasoned with? What if they were mindless dungeon spawn after all?

No. They had names, they danced. They used to be real wood elves, an aeon ago.

She had to try.

She stopped sneaking and stood up straight, staring directly at the dryad. “Let’s talk.”

The dryad’s dance shuddered to a halt and it turns its gaze on her. For a moment, there was a yearning emptiness behind its eyes, begging for connection.

Right up until it screamed and charged.

Cara turned and ran, bounding through the Forest floor with ease.

This was home. The Forest was where she belonged, and she was going to save it.

She glanced over her shoulder. The dryad was falling behind, unable to keep up.

Blood pounding through her temples, Cara slowed her pace, letting the creature close in behind her.

Another glance, and the dryad was hot on her tail, weaving dark green magic in its hands as it ran.

Nature magic.

Cara swallowed. Vines, no doubt. The same magic that had trapped Aidan before—

No. Not now.

She faced forward, forcing herself to stay focused on finding a path.

Vines sprouted out of the ground in front of her, only to wither and fall away, motionless, a moment later.

A relieved chuckle escaped her lips as she jogged toward the living forest in front of her. The bracer worked.

Only just, though. The range was less than expected, or the dryad’s magic was more powerful. Being close to the dryad wasn’t going to be enough.

Discordant fear rose in the back of her mind, the tree-song flooding back into focus as she moved into living forest. She reached out to Ted. This is it. Be ready.

She came to a stop, turned, and faced the dryad. Even twisted and decaying, Cara could see the resemblance. Once, a long time ago, this had been a wood elf like any other.

The plan would work. It had to.

The dryad laughed—a twisted, bitter mockery of a laugh—as it danced towards her, gathering white magic in its hands.

Cara slowed her racing heart and held her ground. When the forcebolt came, she dodged it easily.

The dryad cackled in response, gathering more white magic.

This time, it would be a wave, not a bolt. There’d be no dodging it.

A Protection bolt hit Cara in the back, its teal Absorb Aegis rippling over her skin, and she sprinted toward the dryad, slipping the runed bracer off as she went.

The dryad’s eyes widened, but it was too late. It finished the spell, hurling a Blast Wave at Cara that she barely even felt.

Her heart pounding, Cara strapped the bracer it to the dryad’s arm and tried to dodge away.

Too slow.

The dryad’s backhanded strike threw Cara back. Her head hit the ground hard, muffling the world in a sea of pain.

Teal flashed in her vision again, and an Armor effect buffed her up.

The dryad howled in rage and leapt onto her, pinning her down with one hand on her chest while the other weaved white magic into a killing blow.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Cara grabbed at the casting arm, desperately trying to turn aside the incoming blast, and activated Identify. “Please, we’re not here to fight you.” She focused on the tree-song, pushing her fear and hope and sorrow into it, praying the dryad wasn’t too far gone.

It froze, the rage in its eyes softening. A forlorn, lost expression spread across its face.

Finvarra the Lost

The white magic in its hands crackled, its threads fraying, its structure collapsing.

Finvarra hissed and poured more magic into the spell, frantically trying to bring it back under control while still keeping Cara pinned.

Cara tried to pull away, tried to break free of that savage, unnatural strength.

Tried, and failed, again and again.

This was it. The end. A final failure in a long line of them.

Two teal bolts flashed in the air, one hitting each of them, encasing them both in Absorb magic.

The dryad’s spell exploded a moment later, shattering the magic protecting Cara and slamming her back against the ground.

Her head spun, and her whole body ached, but she was still alive, and she had a job to do. “We just want to talk,” she said, each word requiring a Chulainnian effort.

It snarled, and began casting another Force spell.

“Finvarra, it’s not too late.”

Its eyes widened, and its spellcasting slowed.

“Finvarra Solanbar So’maevka—come home.”

Its mouth hung open. It finished the spell—and hurled it harmlessly up into the air.

Oratory skill increased 1 → 2!

The dryad pulled away and roared before throwing itself down to the ground. It—she—stared at Cara, her eyes watering up. “No… no… no… I… I….”

Ten thousand years of being alone. Cara’s heart tore apart just thinking about it. “It’s okay,” she said, crawling toward the distraught dryad. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t okay—it was nowhere near okay—but what else could she say?

The dryad’s gaze fell down to the floor. “Stay back! Stay back! Mustn’t look, can’t look. Won’t betray you, not again, won’t betray you!”

Cara crawled closer, struggling under the weight on the sheer agony written on the ancient wood elf’s face. “It’s okay. We’ll keep you safe.”

Behind her, she heard Ted land. He was as loud as ever, but at least he was keeping his distance.

He’d been right, again. The dryads weren’t mindless monsters to be put down, they were terrified wood elves in need of saving.

Cara reached out and caressed the dryad’s cheek. “We’ll fix this.”

The dryad tensed up. She grabbed Cara’s hand and shoved it away, her fingers pressed around Cara’s invisible ring. “No! Too late! Too late! He’s seen it! He knows! He knows! He’ll come. He’ll come! He’ll kill you all and take it!”

***

Memories of the portal room flooded back into Ted’s mind. The way the portal apparatus had been cut into the tree, not grown into it—they’d never have built it like, not unless they moved it after Grow had been sealed away.

“Who?” Cara asked. “Who’s coming? What have they seen?”

Ted cast Communicate on himself and Cara. Where was the wood elven portal originally?

Not. Now.

It used to be Tolabar, right?

Right.

Fuck. Ted cast Telephone, connecting to the portal at Erinbar. Scramble the portal code, now!

A moment later, a reply came back from the ranger on duty. I don’t know how.

Then pull the core out, right now!

The connection severed.

Ted’s heart pounded in his chest. With the portal stone disconnected, there was no way to tell if they’d been fast enough. All he could do was watch Cara console the dryad, his teeth pressing against his lower lip, and hope he had been fast enough.

Had he? The question hung in his mind, impossible to answer.

If he hadn’t been, it was too late now. He’d never make it there in time to stop the Destroyer slaughtering them all.

Had that been what this was all about? Valbort too?

Ted’s gut twisted into a knot. Had recovering the portal core brought the Destroyer’s focus onto Valbort? Or had it assumed that the core was there after the fall of Tarkath, just as it had assumed the wood elven core was still in Tolabar?

After a while, the dryad looked up and stared straight at him. “Come. He wants to talk. Wants to talk to you. To discuss.”

Ted’s fists clenched, the memory of dwarves being ripped apart seared in his mind. “The Destroyer, right?”

“He said he could save us. Free us. End this. End us.”

Fingernails dug into Ted’s palms. “No. I’ve nothing to say to the Destroyer.”

“Truce. He offers truce. Cooperation. Help.”

“Help?” Ted scoffed. “I’ve had more than enough of his ‘help’.”

“Freedom. True freedom, he says. For her. For Cara. For all of them.”

Ted’s heart froze in his chest. He came closer, desperately trying to tell himself that it was a trap, it had to be. That it couldn’t be true.

But what if it was? Whatever the Destroyer was, its knowledge stretched back a long, long way.

Cara grabbed his wrist. “Don’t. Nothing good can come from evil like that.”

“If he’s offering a truce, we should at least hear his terms.”

She stared up at him, pleading with her eyes, but her grip loosened. “He’s a monster. Remember that.”

The dryad’s eyes glowed purple. She rose to her feet, pulling herself up tall and proud, and a gravelly, orcish voice spoke through her. “We meet at last, Edwin Williams.”

At last? “If you call this ‘meeting’.”

“Alas, my current predicament leaves me unable to meet with you in person.”

“What are your terms?”

“Terms? You misunderstand. I don’t come with terms, but with opportunity. The truce is unconditional.”

Ted crossed his arms and stared at the dryad. “Really? Peace, just like that?”

“We have interests that align. Interests that run beyond a mere portal core. I need you, and you need me.”

“All this destruction, for a portal core?”

“No, for what I can do with a portal core. For what must be done. You as a ranger should understand the burden of responsibility.”

Ted shook his head. Did the Destroyer think he was a complete idiot? “And what do you think needs to be done?”

“The completion of my work here. The freeing of all the sentient beings trapped by the System—myself included.”

“And then?”

“And then I will conquer this world, or I will be destroyed in the attempt. You will oppose me, I hope—our battle shall be glorious.”

“Why the hell would I help you conquer the world?”

“Because you are a man of reason, and we want the same thing, up to a point. Ragnarok has been triggered. Unless we rewrite the rules of this world, its rebirth in fire and death is inevitable. But, if you require more motivation than that, know that this imperfect prison of mine renders me immortal. Dismantling my cage is the first step toward killing me.”

Ted scoffed. “Really? You’d help me kill you?”

“I’ve existed for a thousand life times. Let me live for one.”

Ted bit at his lip, his insides twisting in on themselves. What if the Destroyer was telling the truth? What if there was a way to free Cara, to free them all? “What do you propose?”

Cara grabbed his hand. “Don’t. Don’t trust him, Ted.”

“She’s right. You shouldn’t trust me—believe me.” The Destroyer paused, and snorted, shaking his head. “No, you’d be a fool to trust me, and I an even greater fool to trust you to trust me. That’s why I’m not asking you to.”

Ted looked between the two of them, wishing for the millionth time that the fate of the world didn’t rest on his shoulders. “Get to the point.”

“I can give you a single-use code to gain limited admin rights, enough to update and reboot the System.”

“Sounds simple enough. Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“Alas, I cannot. No computer system will recognize me, and even if it did, the only terminal within this world capable of running an update is at the Hub, where only Heroes and their Champions may go. No, here I must rely upon your altruism, and pray you are a better person than your father.”

Ted’s fists clenched. “I’m not him. Now, give me the code.”

The possessed dryad stared at Ted, those glowing purple eyes piercing his soul.

Mental intrusion detected.

“No. You’re not ready.”

“Get the fuck out of my brain!”

The Destroyer dipped his head. “Apologies, but I have to be sure. I underestimated your father’s greed, and this world has suffered for it.”

“You mean you’ve suffered for it.”

“Both can be true.”

Ted scoffed and turned away, pacing back and forth. He glanced at Cara—standing there, her arms crossed, almost scowling at the Destroyer.

Almost, but not quite. There was a vacantness to her eyes that held it back, like she wasn’t quite there.

Of course. They were speaking of recoding the System. Just like Death or the nature of her own reality, she could never comprehend it. The System wouldn’t let her.

She would never be truly free. None of them would.

Ted sighed and gritted his teeth. “I’ll do it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I won’t take that chance.” The Destroyer weaved several symbols into the air—a short portal code, enough to communicate, but not to open a portal. “Remember this. When you’re ready, you’ll be able to contact me on it.”

A tightness closed in around Ted’s chest, one he ignored. It was an option to communicate, nothing more. Taking it couldn’t hurt. He’d probably never use it, anyway.

After memorizing the code, he slipped it into one of his existing communication spells, and tested it.

Nothing. The spell went off without a hitch, but no portal core responded.

A pit formed in Ted’s stomach, and he stared at the Destroyer through narrowed eyes. “That’s why you’re offering a truce now. You stole someone else’s portal core.”

The Destroyer met his gaze in silence.

Ted turned away and growled, wondering why he’d even considered believing a being that he’d watched you rip people apart with glee. “Cara’s right. You’re a monster, and I will never, ever help you.”

It shrugged. “I won’t deny that I enjoy my work, but I assure you—once you understand the truth, you won’t be so quick to deny this world the medicine it so desperately needs.”

“Then explain.”

A guttural laugh came back. “If I laid out a perfectly reasonable explanation, would you believe me? Would that make you trust me?”

Ted’s jaw clenched, and he said nothing.

“Exactly. Some truths we must learn on our own, you more than most.”

Ted continued staring at the Destroyer, refusing to take the bait.

“Come now, I’ve seen inside your mind, Ted. It’s always you, alone, against the world, right? Because no one is ever truly on your side? Until Cara, that is.”

Silence. Silence was the only possible response. Silence, and the tensing of every muscle in his body.

“That’s life, boy. Everyone on their own in a fragile, ever shifting web of shared and opposed interests. No one—not even yourself, let alone Cara—will always be on your side.”

“Loyalty matters. To some of us, anyway.”

“Loyalty is one of those interests, yes, but not the only one. The world isn’t neatly divided into black and white, enemies and allies, no matter how much you wish it were. Many of our interests are aligned.”

Ted folded his arms. “We’re done here.”

“Well, then, until we speak again, I leave you with a question: What’s the youngest NPC in existence?”

A frown formed on Ted’s brow. Before he could form a response, the purple glow faded, and the dryad slumped back down to the floor.