"Long before man stepped foot on Earth, the Tree grew tall. It guided our kind on the path." Ryan's father had once told him. "In the dark we toiled away at our endless pursuits; only through its grace were we brought to the light."
Ryan always remembered his father's words; they guided him in his decision once he was sixteen to become an apprentice to the keeper of the roots. "It is the noblest of purposes to live one's life in service to the Tree," his father once said. Ryan has been diligent in his apprenticeship to the current root keeper. He observes with great care, taking the task on with the utmost respect. This however, had not gained Ryan much popularity with the other kids. They would taunt him on a near daily basis. Ryan does his best to ignore them. In his long hours spent tending the tree he'd come to realize this is his true purpose; even if it means enduring the mockery of his peers for the rest of his days. The Tree began to speak to Ryan on a few occasions, brief glimpses of a vision unfamiliar to him. On the most recent of these occasions Ryan felt an impending danger, something looming near. This leaves him feeling troubled.

One day Ryan is out in the woods with his younger brother, picking mushrooms together for their mother's stew.
"Remember Sam, to only pick the brown ones with the white stems. Ryan says.
Sam backs away from a flush he was about to pick.
"What role to you want when you're old enough to decide?" Ryan inquires.
"I want to be an explorer. I want to travel to new lands."
"That's a mighty task, I'm sure you'll be well suited for it."
A rustling of leaves startles Ryan; he turns around to see his sister standing there with a wild look in her eyes. She's only a year younger than Ryan, but she's an inch taller, this bothers him immensely.
"Carey?"
"Father says you have to come now," She urges. It's the Tree.

When they arrive at the outskirts of the village—it's empty. They make their way through the quiet streets to the courtyard at the far end. The Tree stands—forty feet tall—in the middle of the courtyard. Not the biggest, but the most important one by far. The whole village is gathered around the base of its trunk. The Chief's Lieutenant sees Ryan approaching with his siblings in tow; he barks an order and the crowd parts to let them pass. The Chief is standing near the base of the tree, someone is slumped over the roots. The chief turns to look at Ryan, his face grim.
"What's happened Father?"
He need not answer. As Ryan reaches the Tree, he lets out a gasp. The man slumped over the roots of the tree is Yaxley—the current root keeper. The roots are soaked in blood. It is an evil thing to slay the root keeper, especially on the tree's roots. Already the Tree appears to be withering.
"How is the Tree?" The chief probes.
Ryan walks up to it, putting his hand on the bark. He turns back to his father, "It's–dying." A lightness washes over Ryan; his vision turns black.

Ryan stands in a clearing surrounded by lush forest: moss pads the ground, long grasses rustle with the wind, the air tastes salty. A woman in a white dress stands in the middle of the clearing, next to the clearest pool Ryan has ever seen. The Woman regards him with piercing, blue eyes. She beckons him closer. Ryan walks toward her, stoping a few feet away. She's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen: her pale skin glows, almost as white as her dress; her face is unnaturally symmetrical.
"Who are you?"
"I am the lady of the pool," she answers in a cool tone, like a trickling stream. "The water from this pool is the only thing that can save the Tree. I can offer you some guidance. Someone in the village has betrayed you; watch your back. You will need two companions, neither of which you have met yet; look for them in the unlikeliest of places.
"But I don't understand, how did I get here?"
"You are not really here, your consciousness has drifted from your body."
"What do you mean I will need two companions? I'm not an explorer."
"Shh," she soothes. "There is no more time for questions; you must go back now. Remember what I have said."

Ryan opens his eyes. He's laying on the ground near the tree.
"Are you ok Ryan?" his Father asks, helping him up.
"Only water from the sacred pool can save the Tree."
"How do you know this?"
"The Tree–it told me. Someone must be sent at once."
The crowd gasps.
"If what you say is true, and the tree told you this; you must be the one to go."

The village had never felt so silent. Ryan stood before the Tree, its once‑vibrant leaves now curled inward like a wounded creature. A faint tremor pulsed beneath his palm as he steadied himself. The crowd watched him with a mixture of fear and awe, emotions he had never inspired before. He wished he didn’t inspire them now.

“The sacred pool lies far beyond our borders,” the Chief said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. “No one has ventured there in generations.”

Ryan swallowed hard. His legs still felt unsteady from the vision, and the Lady’s words echoed in his mind like a whisper trapped between worlds.

Someone in the village has betrayed you.

He dared not look around. Every face suddenly felt unfamiliar.

“I’ll go,” Ryan said, surprising even himself. “If the Tree chose me, then I’ll go.”

A murmur rippled through the villagers. His sister Carey stepped forward, eyes wide.

“Ryan, you can’t just leave. You’re not...” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “You’re not ready.”

He almost agreed with her. But the Tree’s fading presence pressed against his thoughts like a plea.

“I have to,” he said softly.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then you will go with our blessing. But you must leave before nightfall. The Tree weakens by the hour.”

Ryan nodded, though dread coiled in his stomach. He turned to Sam, who clutched the basket of mushrooms to his chest.

“Take care of Mother,” Ryan said.

Sam nodded, trying to look brave.

As Ryan stepped away from the courtyard, the villagers parted again, but this time their expressions had changed. Some looked hopeful. Others fearful. A few looked proud. But there were eyes among them that lingered too long, too coldly.

The Lady’s warning prickled at the back of his neck.

Ryan hurried home to gather what little he would take: a waterskin, a knife, a cloak, and a small wooden charm carved in the shape of a leaf; his father’s gift when he began his apprenticeship. He paused at the doorway, taking in the familiar scent of hearth smoke and dried herbs. It struck him that he didn’t know when he would smell it again.

Carey followed him inside, arms crossed tightly.

“You’re being foolish,” she said. “Visions aren’t always what they seem.”

“This one was,” Ryan replied. “I felt the Tree dying. I saw the pool.”

She hesitated, her expression softening. “Then promise me you’ll come back.”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s not a promise.”

He managed a faint smile. “Then I promise.”

Carey exhaled shakily and pulled him into a fierce embrace. “Don’t trust anyone too quickly,” she whispered. “Not everyone wants the Tree saved.”

Her words chilled him more than the Lady’s had.

By the time Ryan reached the village gate, the sun had dipped low, staining the sky with streaks of amber and violet. The Chief’s Lieutenant waited there, holding a satchel.

“Provisions,” the Lieutenant said gruffly. “And a map. It’s old, but it’s the best we have.”

Ryan accepted it with a nod. The Lieutenant leaned closer.

“Find who did this,” he murmured. “Root keepers are not slain by accident.”

Ryan’s breath caught. “You think the killer is still here?”

“I think,” the Lieutenant said, “that evil rarely travels far from its purpose.”

Before Ryan could respond, the Lieutenant stepped back and raised his voice.

“Open the gate!”

The wooden doors groaned as they swung outward, revealing the darkening forest beyond. Ryan tightened his grip on the satchel and stepped forward. The moment he crossed the threshold, a strange sensation washed over him: like the world had shifted, like the air itself was holding its breath. He glanced back once. His family stood at the gate, small figures framed by torchlight. The Tree loomed behind them, its branches drooping like tired arms.

Ryan turned toward the forest.

Ryan walks until it's almost too dark to see. If he keeps going now, he will lose the path. Ryan decides it’s best to sleep in a tree tonight—being an apprentice root keeper, he’s accustomed to climbing trees. There’s a rope in the bag the Lieutenant gave him; Ryan uses it to tie himself to a branch so he can’t fall off. Sleep comes with ease after the day he’s had. Ryan wakes to the first light of the sun. He unties himself, eager to get back on the road. He checks the map. Ryan believes he is traveling toward The Rum River Inn; he hopes he will be there in two days time. As he gets further away from their village, the path becomes more arduous to tread—the dirt is looser, roots grow, threatening to trip him if he’s not careful. Traders who come to their village usually use the east entrance, but Ryan’s quest leads to the wild north. The path tapers with a gentle insistence, causing the trees to appear to press in on him. The forest grows darker. On a couple occasions he thought a voice had whispered from somewhere off the path. By nightfall, Ryan is checking over his shoulder, almost on routine. He climbs a tree right next to the road, fearing if he goes any further away from it, he may never find it again. Tonight, Ryan does not fall asleep with ease. The forest creaks and groans, creatures of the night make all manner of odd noises—almost as if the forest is protesting his presence. Ryan feels sleep begin to take him. He thought he’d only dozed off for a moment, when heavy footsteps can be heard trudging down the road—the way he’d come. A fell voice cuts through the hum of the forest like a knife.
“ee’s goa’ be around 'ere somewhere, he 'ouldn’t have goten' fa',” says a gruff voice, definitely not human.
“Is' no use, we’ll neva' find ‘im in da night,” another voice says, similar to the first.
“But, ‘ats da 'ole point. We find ‘im will ees sleepin and slit is troat.”
“woun’t it just be easier to find ‘im in da light?”
“Yes, but do you really wan’ to be ou’ in da light? Makes ma skin itch.”
“Good point.”
The voices continue down to the path until they're out of earshot. Ryan's lived a very sheltered life growing up in the village, but he thinks he knows the voices of orads when he hears them, their thick, mountainous, northern accents give it away. Ryan isn’t sure who they're looking for, but he hopes it isn’t him. He doesn’t fall asleep for the rest of the night. When the light comes, Ryan is eager to leave. He’s glad the voices were traveling the way he’d come, hopefully he's seen the last of them.

The road twists and turns, becoming even more unmanageable as it goes. There’s a strange whisper in the woods. Ryan comes across a faded sign warning to stay on the path. it’s nearly mid-day, but the thickness of the trees over the road blots out the sun so effectively it becomes hard to discern the time. Ryan hasn’t encountered anyone else so far; he thanks whatever luck he has for that. He pulls out the waterskin he’d packed, wringing the last few drops into his mouth. That won’t do. In the distance, Ryan thinks he can hear a stream trickling, not forty feet from the road. The heat of the day and thirst, push him into the woods in search of the stream. Every time Ryan thinks he’s getting near to it, the sound appears to grow more distant. After the game of cat and mouse goes on for some time, Ryan stumbles to the edge of a small river. A beautiful voice can be heard singing from nearby. Ryan scans his surroundings, his gaze falling on a beautiful woman—not much older than himself—standing half submerged in the river. The woman must have heard him approach, because she turns around with a startled expression on her face. Ryan turns around with haste, not wanting to appear like he was staring.
“I’m sorry. I heard the water, I’m just trying to fill my container.”
“It’s ok. You just startled me, is all.” She says from behind Ryan. “Let me put my clothes on real quick, then you can turn around.
Ryan hears her splashing out of the river.
“Ok,” she says with a giggle.
Ryan turns back around. She’s much closer now, she was beautiful before, but—wow. She has a slender figure; pale, smooth skin; bedazzling, green eyes; and rosy lips. She now wears a simple set of pants, with a tunic, and ankle-high boots. The woman regards him with a playful, inquisitive stare. “I’m Kylie.” She gives a curtsy.
“I’m Ryan,” he says, feeling his cheeks flush. She must pick up on his embarrassment.
“It’s ok. I don’t mind that you saw me,” She gives a sly smile.
“Can I fill my waterskin?” He says, changing the subject.
“Allow me to,” it’s the least I can do.
“Ok…” Only as Kylie turns toward the water does Ryan notice how late it’s gotten. It’s didn’t feel like he was tromping though the forest for that long…
When Kylie returns with his water, he gulps it down.
“Wow! You must have really been thirsty.
“Where are you from anyway?”
“I’m from a village to the south of here. I’m on a—“ he decides it’s best not mention the quest. “Adventure.” Ryan finishes.
“Ooh! Sounds exciting. I suppose that means you have to be off then,” she pouts.
“I would be, but it’s too dark now to find the road.”
“You could stay with me tonight. I live just over there.” She points behind Ryan toward a cottage in the tree line that he had not noticed before.
“Uhh…”
“Come on, it'll be fun.” She takes his hand, leading him with a gentle touch.
Ryan feels odd, but he’s too focused on the gorgeous woman giving him attention to care. The fading light accentuates her features, giving her an unparalleled beauty. Ryan allows himself to be led into her abode.

Kylie’s home is cozy. A few candles are placed in meticulous locations, casting a dim illumination along the walls.
“Do you live here alone?”
“Yes. I left my village in search of solitude. I believe I’ve found it.” She busies herself about, stirring a large pot on the fireplace.
“So, why invite me in?”
“It’s nice to have a proper meal every now and then–with someone else,” she corrects. “Not many handsome men come my way anymore.” Her eyes turn sad. Her face lights up again. “But let's not dwell on that, you’re here now!
Kylie grabs two wooden bowls, filling them each with soup. She sets the bowls down on a table near where Ryan is seated. She sits down, rather close him, running her fingertips up and down his arm. “So—you’re all alone on this adventure?”
“I had no other choice.”
“It must be lonely.”
“I miss my family.”
”Of course you do.”
“Eat, please, you must be starving," She encourages, handing him a bowl and spoon. The soup smells warm and inviting. He takes a bite.
“It’s good. Thank you.”
“Not as good as you’re going to be–when you leave here in the morning well rested and fed, I mean.
“You look troubled, my brave adventurer, what’s wrong?” She coos, still stroking his arm.
“It’s just—I’m not cut out for this, I’ve never been on an adventure before. What if I fail?” Ryan begins to feel tired—the kind of tired that seeps into the limbs, making it difficult to move.
“Oh. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.” She says with a wide smile, giving another soft giggle. Fangs. Why does she have fangs? Come to think of it, one of her legs makes a slight metallic thunk, when she walks. Ryan realizes too late.
“You’re an empousa,” he slurs, barely able to get the words out.
“Yes dear. And you’re dinner.”
There’s something in the soup. Ryan looks around for an escape, his vision blurs. The door isn't far, but he’s not sure his legs can support the weight right now. Kylie's demeanor remains calm. She stays in her seat, still stroking his arm—like a cat toying with a mouse.
“Oh, I do love it when they try to escape.
Maybe it’s just the adrenaline, but Ryan manages to lurch onto his legs, stumbling toward the door. He pushes on it, surprised to find it’s not locked. He staggers out into the night.
Kylie calls behind him, “you won’t make it far, I can smell your blood.”
Ryan calls out in a weak voice as he stumbles away from the house. He trips over his own feet, going down hard onto the grass. Two things happen at once: Kylie exits the house; bow strings twang—flaming arrows arc through the air, sprouting from her. Kylie lets loose a blood curdling scream before falling in silence.
A figure stands over Ryan, just as his visions goes black.