She stood between Eleni and Alani, radiating an aura that felt vastly different from the stiff, aristocratic air of the High Elves. Her clothes were woven from leaves and vines, living plants that seemed to shift slightly as she breathed. But it was those eyes, emerald green and piercing, that locked onto mine, ignoring everything else in the room.
For a moment, the shop was silent, save for the aggressiveness of Chis cleaning the dishes.
"So… you guys are back…" I said to Eleni and Alani.
Eleni puffed out her chest, crossing her arms over her leafy tunic. "Dhou sayest that as if 'twere a misfortune! We toldeth thee we wouldst return with the Eld'r to judge dhy 'theory' prop'rly."
Alani suddenly leaned closer to Eleni, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. "Dost dhou see and feel the black aura behind?" She pointed at the back of the counter, which was the kitchen.
The green-eyed woman stepped forward, silencing them with a slight raise of her hand. She didn't look at the furniture with disgust like the other two. Instead, she looked at the kitchen, like she had a vision that could penetrate the wall and saw Chis, then back at me, a faint, amused smile playing on her lips.
"So," she said, her voice melodic but heavy. "So… Dhou art the human who seekest to redefine the life of Dryads…"
She glided closer, her movement making no sound against the floorboards.
"Eleni and Alani return'd in a state of disarray, mutt'ring of 'Meliae' and 'Auloniads'," she continued, stopping right before the counter. Her green eyes bore into mine. "Names that appear nowhere in our hist'ry. Names that no tree has ev'n whisp'red."
Her expression shifted from regal to genuinely curious.
"Tell me, human. Whence dost dhou knoweth these names? Wherefore dost dhou speaketh of races that exist not in this world, yet describ'd them with such det'il?"
"They're just stories," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. I saw these conversations would be so long and deep. "How about we take a seat first?"
They immediately took a seat. However, their hands were on their laps, as they avoided touching the table. As I was walking towards behind the counter.
The green-eyed woman sat beside Orla. Their eyes met each other's. A human and… Well, I didn't know what she was; her physical appearance and aura seemed like an elf, but she was with dryads.
The green-eyed woman turned her head towards me.
"Is she dhy partn'r, human?"
"No," I answered. "But she is living here…"
"She liveth here, yet she is not dhy partn'r?"
"A lot of things have happened; that's why she's living here."
Her gaze shiftily changed toward behind me. "Liveth she here, too?"
She was talking about Chis, who was doing dishes at the back. "Yes, she is, too…"
She raised a delicate eyebrow, her emerald eyes dancing with amusement.
"A human… and a Calamity… und'r the same roof. And dhou claimeth neither art thy partn'r?" She let out a soft, dry chuckle. "Dhou livest a life that woulds make the bards weep in confusion. Dhou collecteth dang'rous things."
Her gaze flickered to the kitchen, the back to me, her expression hardening slightly. "A maid… who couldst lev'l a kingdom. Dhou art eith'r a god in disguise, or a fool with incredible luck."
"Probably the second one," I muttered.
"But we div'rge," she said, her tone sharpening. "Now… explaineth dhy 'stories' furth'r."
"Well, they are stories from another world as I read them. I didn't mean to scare them. I was just making a comparison about how nymphs in this world adapt to their environment.
"Adapt…" her voice echoed, the word rolling off her tongue.
She stared at me, her gaze losing focus for a split second, as if she were looking through me and into the very concept I had introduced.
"So…" she started slowly, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Dhou sayest that our f'rm is not fix'd by birth? That we art not bound to the Oak or the Willow by fate, but limit'd only by our… affinity?"
That's a strong theory right there… Is a nymph really bound by fate or nature? Can this creature actually be out from that bound and become another type of nymph?
"It's a strong theory from you, and there is a possibility that your kin can actually do that."
She stared at me, her expression unreadable.
"Possibil'ty..." she whispered, testing the word on her tongue. "So... we have spent eons guarding the trees, believing that without them, we art nothing. Yet dhou claimeth we couldst be the riv'r. The mountain. The wind."
She turned her gaze to Eleni and Alani. The two Dryads flinched under her scrutiny, looking as though their entire worldview was collapsing.
"E-Eld'r?" Eleni stammered. "Surely... surely those art just stories? We cannot simply... change?"
She turned back to me, her demeanour shifting from philosophical to commanding in an instant.
"Dhou art a dang'rous creature…However, the pupose we came here is your theory about inside of our flesh…" she continued, her green eyes narrowing slightly. "Dhou claimeth that our way... is wrong. That instead of giv'ng life to the tree, we art... stealing it?"
She tapped a long, slender finger against her own chest, right where a human heart would beat.
"Eleni and Alani were disturb'd by this. They believ'd their nightly rituals were sacr'd. But dhou toldeth them they were... 'leeches'. That we shouldst feed upon the trees in the light of the sun, not the moon."
"I didn't call you leeches directly," I defended myself, leaning back against the counter. "I just explained the concept of photosynthesis versus respiration. Trees produce energy when the sun is out. At night, they consume it to survive. If you 'merge' with them at night, you aren't sharing their surplus energy; you're competing for their reserves."
The green-eyed woman stared at me, her expression unreadable.
"Comp'ting..." she murmured. "Dhou sayest we art not guardians... but parasites?"
"If you do it during the day, you'd be part of the production cycle. If you do it at night... well, yeah. You're draining the energy while it's trying to recover."
A heavy silence fell over the table. Eleni and Alani looked down at their laps, looking like children who had been scolded for breaking a vase.
"And that," the woman said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "is the most terrify'ng thought of all. That for eons... we have been killing the very things we swore to prot'ct."
She leaned forward, her face inches from mine.
"But words art wind. Theories art smoke. So... we test'd it."
I blinked. "You did?"
"Eleni. Alani," she commanded without looking away from me. "Tell the human. What happen'd when dhou embraced the tree at high noon?"
Eleni looked up, her eyes wide and shimmering with a strange energy.
"T's... hard to describe," Eleni said, her voice trembling. "We usually feel calm. Sleepy. But at noon... when we merg'd..." She grasped her own shoulders. "It felt like fire! But good fire! We felt... drunk. Ov'rwhelmed!"
"I couldst hear the sap flowing like a riv'r!" Alani added excitedly. "My skin tingl'd! I felt as if I couldst grow a whol'st forest in a single breath! We didn't feel weak aft'rwards. We felt... infinite."
The green-eyed woman leaned back, a satisfied, albeit sharp, smile playing on her lips.
"Dhou hearest them?" she asked. "Dhou hast turn'd their world upside down. Dhou hast prov'n that our traditi'ns were... inefficient."
She stared at me.
"Dhou knoweth biology bett'r than the spirits of nature. Dhou knoweth names of lost races." She leaned back. "Dhou art a singularity, human. And I must knoweth... what else dost dhou know about us that we do not?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She didn't even chant. She just snapped her fingers.
The air inside the cafe warped. The comforting smell of roasted beans and steamed milk vanished instantly, replaced by the heavy, cloying scent of wet earth and crushed flowers. Gravity lurched sideways, throwing me off balance.
I scrambled to my feet, my heart hammering against my ribs. I looked around, trying to get my bearings.
At first glance, it was breathtaking—exactly what you would expect from a Dryad's sanctuary. Towering ancient trees formed a cathedral ceiling of leaves, and the air smelt sweeter than any perfume, rich with damp earth and blooming flowers. It felt timeless. Serene. A paradise untouched by concrete or smog.
But then I heard it. A wet, snapping sound, like a bone breaking.
I turned toward a patch of plant life near my boots. They weren't just swaying in the wind. As I watched, a tightly curled frond unrolled with a violent jerk, expanding from the size of a fist to the size of a car door in the span of a single breath.
I took a step back, my eyes widening.
It wasn't just the fern. I looked closer at the trunk of the massive oak beside me. The ivy wasn't just clinging to the bark; it was climbing. It slithered upward visibly, inch over inch like a green snake, tightening its grip until the wood actually groaned under the pressure. Flowers didn't just bloom; they exploded open, vibrant and desperate, fighting for space before being crushed by new buds erupting right on top of them.
The serenity was a lie. This wasn't the slow, patient wisdom of the ancients. This was nature on overdrive. It was frantic, competitive, and suffocating, growing with the same desperate, non-stop pace of the modern world she had become so obsessed with.
"So, what is the reason you are kidnapping me in here for?" I asked.
"Reason?" She tilted her head, watching a flower bloom, wither, and rot in the span of a blink. "A consultation."
She walked toward a massive oak tree near us. The bark was groaning, audibly splitting apart as the wood expanded faster than the fibres could hold. She ran a manicured hand over the ruin, her expression not one of panic but of cold, critical judgement.
"I heed'd dhy words," she said, her voice echoing with a strange power that made the aggressive vines recoil slightly. "I command'd this domain to feast upon the light of noon, as dhou suggest'd. To discard the moon and drink the sun."
She turned back to me, her green eyes flashing dangerously.
"But the earth is... gluttonous. It tast'd the surplus energy dhou spokest of, and now it refuseth to stop. It is drunk on light."
She swept her hand across the nightmare of hyper-growth. A patch of wildflowers bloomed, went to seed, and died in the span of ten seconds, choking the ground with their own debris.
"My realm is dying. Not from weak'ness, but from excess. It grows so fast it tears itself apart. It knoweth only how to start, but it hath forgot'n how to stop."
She took a step closer, towering over me even though we were the same height.
"Dhou art a man of rules. Dhou managest a space where beings of great pow'r must obey dhy ord'r. Dhou introduced this... 'efficiency' to my kin."
She grabbed my shoulder, her grip like an iron root.
"Now... dhou must teach this forest 'restraint'. Fix what dhou hast brok'n, or become fertilizer for the new growth."
So basically, you want me to fix this ecology's problem…