Dread Mage

After what felt like hours of winding paths and curious glances from woodland creatures, they arrived at a clearing. It was an expansive circle, bordered by towering trees that formed a natural amphitheater, their trunks entwined like ancient guardians. In the center lay a ring of stones, each etched with symbols that seemed to softly glow.

“Here we are,” Vell announced, extending his arms wide. “The druids’ circle.”

Sonder stepped forward and looked around.

She could feel a strange energy thrumming in the air, a hum that shook to her bones.

It felt hostile.

“What now?” she asked, her eyes scanning the stones.

"Now, we wait," Vell answered, settling himself on a rock. "And we hope."

After sitting in silence for a stretch of time, a gentle rustling from the underbrush caught their attention.

A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, slender silhouette clad in earthy browns and muted greens, its cap-shaped head resembling a mushroom, speckled with white, and fell far over its head, parted in the middle like hair.

Instead of a face, there was a textured surface that glistened in the dim light, reminiscent of gills beneath a mushroom cap.

"Mellea," Vell acknowledged, offering a slight bow as he rose.

The creature stepped forward, its movements strange and almost unsure, with plants and trees bending aside to clear its path.

Trailing behind were more figures, embodying the druidic image far more than Mellea did, cloaked in brown and green robes with hidden faces, accompanied by animals of various kinds.

"You tread upon sacred ground," Mellea spoke in a voice that rustled like leaves. "And you, daughter of man, carry the scent of abomination on you."

Sonder swallowed hard, feeling small under Mellea’s gaze.

“I... I seek knowledge,” she stammered, trying to steady her voice. “I wish to learn about the magic of the earth.”

Mellea tilted their head, studying her closely.

Vell stepped forward, his demeanor shifting from somewhat wary to almost casual. "We offer gifts of respect and friendship," he declared, producing a small pouch from his robes. "Inside are seeds of the rare Moonflower, not easily found."

Mellea's gills flickered as they reached for the pouch, their fingers brushing Vell's with a spongy texture. "A thoughtful offering, perhaps, but the druids are not swayed by simple trinkets." They discarded the pouch. "They won't thrive here unless tended to. Weak plants deserve death. Nature isn't always a cycle of life and death, creation and destruction; sometimes, it is solely death."

"I have another gift in mind," Vell stated.

After a moment of rummaging through his bag, he revealed a large cage containing two birds.

Their feathers were a vibrant mix, and they chirped lively as the dappled light from the treetops illuminated them.

"These are zuna birds. They've nearly been hunted to extinction for their feathers, believed to possess healing properties and bring good luck. Yet these two survived, evading even the most skilled hunters. I haven't found any others. They're resilient; they've endured. That's something you respect, isn't it?"

Mellea gazed at the cage, unmoving, then extended a hand, its thin fingers slipping through the bars to seize both birds, like tentacles, and swiftly withdrawing, slicing the birds into pieces, ending their lives and species.

"But they were captured nonetheless."