Concordant Dryad
Dryads in the Kirinal Concordance Zone have been mutated by the constant exposure to multiversal energies. Concordant dryads are no longer bound to a single tree, they form symbiotic bonds with other living beings, ranging from individual mortals to mighty dragons. The most powerful anchor themselves to living networks: packs of wolves, interconnected groves, mycelial networks, and even entire mortal communities.
I’m happy for the new “traveling dryads” who’ve figured out how to “uproot” themselves and stop being stuck to one tree in one place! I’m a little concerned about these mega-dryads that draw power from entire forests or cities! We just got rid of the last crop of gods, we don’t need new ones!
In previous ages, dryads were all female spirits, born from the woods and bound to them. They would take male mortals as lovers, and their offspring would inherit their legacy, bound to a single oak tree, living and dying in the shadow of its branches. They traded freedom for stability and otherworldly beauty.
Concordant Dryads no longer follow the old rules.
They are not limited by gender, host species, or a static form. They still form a soul bond at birth, but now, their parent can choose to link them to any other living being. Their lives are tied to their host, from whom they draw nourishment, and to whom they give fey blessings in return.
Through powerful and secret rituals, they can even connect to multiple beings or networks of beings.
The dryads of old Kirinal were driven to the brink of extinction by the Kirinal Catastrophes. Those who survived watched in helpless horror as their sacred groves were destroyed, felled by invading armies, cut down by native Kirinalos, or splintered by the interdimensional maelstroms of the Manifest.
The last dryad, bound to the last oak tree on the edge of the Kirinal Pit, wept as her dying tree entered its final season. She mourned the loss of her grove of sisters, and the single withered seed that would never find the oak it was meant for.
On her final day, her cry echoed through time and space, and she was heard.
A sapphire-scaled dragon, old and fading, landed beside the blighted tree. She spoke to the dryad, mind to mind. “Dear one, I, too, near my end. I, too, fear for my unborn child. Together, though, maybe we can make something new?”
The dryad, too weak to think, could only nod. She offered her withered seed. The dragon nestled a too-small egg next to it.
“Oak lady, our time is past. But perhaps together our children will flourish?”
The dragon and the dryad embraced. Together they burned.
In the ashes something stirred. A green seedling child embraced by a sapphire wyrmling.
On the islands back home, every tree had a spirit. They were called kapre or mangmangkik or aghoy. They looked like elf women or hairy giants or dark shadows. My people, the duwende were called tree spirits by the ignorant even though we just live in the jungle. The poor spirits here in the Zone were stuck only to oak trees until they learned a new way.
Now I am sad too. :( I love this twist on dryads though. The images I have in my head are so badass.
Explore Etrea | Reading Challenge 2025
I thought I was writing a sassy fun article and ended up making myself really really sad instead!!
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