Dread Mage

Vell and Sonder found themselves encircled by the gathering of hooded figures, and as the druids drew nearer, Vell felt the weight of their intent pressing down upon him and his companions.

A confrontation was inevitable unless he could swiftly and decisively capture the attention and respect of Mellea.

He had no desire for conflict, yet the shadows of potential violence loomed large—a specter he wished to banish, but it seemed inevitable.

In the past, Vell had managed to navigate similar tensions with Boscage, a fellow master of nature, through dialogue and understanding—a testament to his preference for diplomacy over force. Yet, here and now, under the watchful eyes of these druids, he sensed that words might not suffice.

Beside him, Copse and Coppice, the canines, stiffened as the ground beneath them quivered, roots spiraling up like serpents to ensnare their paws. Vell acted swiftly, raising a hand in a gesture of pause.

“Wait,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the murmur of the forest. “There is something else.”

And what can that be?” They inquired, their tone a blend of curiosity and challenge.

“Strength seems to be the only thing you truly respect, isn’t it?” Vell replied, his voice steady but edged with reluctance. “I don’t, but it appears I have little choice. Your progenitor was much more amicable regarding such matters.”

“It was not his place as man to lead nature,” Mellea retorted, their voice tinged with a cold hostility.

“It also seems that you don’t know who I am, do you?” He asked, his gaze fixed on Mellea.

“It doesn’t matter,” they replied dismissively.

“To a few, it does,” Vell countered, extending his hand toward Mellea. “This is going to be unpleasant,” he warned, a flicker of light sparking at his fingertips.

The druids and their animal companions frozen, suspended in a tableau of shock and confusion—everyone, that is, except for Sonder, Copse, and Coppice.

Even Vell stood motionless for a heartbeat before he began to move, his hand gesturing through the air. The druids mirrored his actions, their bodies responding as if they were marionettes bound by invisible strings.

“What have you done?” Mellea asked, straining under whatever had them under their control.

“I have control over you and all the druids here,” Vell declared, his resolute.

“And what are you going to do?” Mellea said without any fear of what Vell could do.

“The only thing I have in mind right now is pain for all of you,” Vell replied, a small flame blossoming in his palm. “I want free reign in the lands of the Green Wizard and the druids of Celadon, or else I will make you burn down your entire forest.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Mellea said.

“Is this really necessary?” Sonder interjected, her voice tinged with concern.

Flames appeared on the hands of the druids and Mellea. Depending on their own strength of magic, some were stronger and some were weaker, though fire would find a way to feed itself.

For a tense minute, the forest was silent, save for the crackling of the flames. Mellea’s locked onto Vell’s eyes, a silent battle of wills unfolding between them.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Vell began to direct the fire toward the forest, initiating its destructive path.

The druids, helpless under his command, followed suit, their own flames joining the blaze.

The forest began to burn as the flames began to satiate their hunger, consuming everything in their path.