Chapter 2, Part 4: The Corrupted Sanctuary

In contrast to the terrifying mystery of the woods on a stormy night, the day time hike through the dewy groves of Dionysus Forest was like a stroll through a svelte paradise. The sunlight glittered off the wet foliage in a sparkling haze as Katrina’s feet sloshed through the mud. As the hike wore on, the dew dried off and the trees conspired to darken the non-existent paths. She was feeling good as Wearwolf led her, Rion and Jaime towards the Dryad sanctuary, at least at first. She could feel Wearwolf’s unease as they drew closer. It wasn’t just that Wearwolf had been told not to enter the sanctuary, or even that the Dryad would no doubt treat them like hostile invaders. Something felt wrong.

“Wearwolf, what’s up?” Katrina asked.

“This place feels different than I remember,” Wearwolf replied. “A Dryad sanctuary is supposed to be calm and peaceful, yet the closer we get the greater the sense of dread and foreboding. Something has changed, most likely for the worse.”

“You’re right, it’s too quiet,” Katrina said.

“Now that you mention it, I think it’s been a couple clicks since I’ve heard the birds sing,” Rion said, shifting the Dryad child in his arms. She dozed against his chest like a newborn baby. “The insects are gone, too.”

“Maybe we should turn back, after all,” Jaime said. “This place is getting really creepy.”

“Are you sure we’re going to right way?” Katrina asked.

“I have no doubts as to where I am leading you,” Wearwolf said. “The Dryad sanctuary is definitely in this direction. It is the atmosphere the concerns me. It tells me trouble is ahead.”

“My gut’s telling me we’re not going to like what we find,” Katrina said.

“I always figured the forest would get more ethereal-looking the closer we got to the sanctuary,” Rion said. “Instead, it just seems more… decrepit.”

“Yeah, I feel like we’re heading into a murky swamp or something,” Jaime added.

“It should be just past those trees,” Wearwolf said. “Are you sure you wish to continue? It is not too late to turn back.”

“Not really,” Katrina admitted. “But I’m not about to back down just because I’m scared. Never have, never will. If I’m going to be a Chimera Knight, I must be able venture into the fray without hesitation.”

“Of course, there’s something to be said about common sense,” Jaime muttered.

The difference between the rest of the forest and the sanctuary itself was subtle. The trees and shrubbery merely seemed to huddle together more, as if trying to form into larger plants or walls. Someone with an eye for landscaping or floral arrangement or even mathematics might be able to discern the purposeful aesthetic that goes right down to the shape of the moss instead of what appears to be a naturally random pattern of growth. However, what was readily apparent made the creepiness value skyrocket. It was as if a giant, diseased spider had taken up residence in the grove. Gooey, violet strands stretched between each and every tree, rock, and bush, and where the strands met anything was a bulbous, undulating mass. It was far more alien than they expected, the kind of alien that hides in air ducts and lays eggs in your stomach. As they tenuously stepped around them, Katrina half-expected to be dragged off into the darkness by a monstrous tentacle. Decidedly not something she was looking forward to.

Laying about the forest floor like toys abandoned by a child were the Dryad. They were like the mandrake Rion was carrying, only larger and of all shapes and sizes; Bark-like skin, green plumage for hair, and, perhaps coincidentally, unconscious. As Wearwolf approached one of them, he could see yet another difference. In the middle of the Dryad’s forehead was small, white horn.

“I think it’s safe to say coming here was a bad idea,” Jaime said.

“That’s for the historians to decide,” Katrina said, kneeling down next to Wearwolf. “This isn’t right, is it?”

“It is decidedly wrong,” Wearwolf replied. “I cannot even begin to speculate as to what has transpired here, aside from what used to be a beautiful sanctuary has been transformed into… this. It is far from natural.”

“Are they dead?” Rion asked.

“No, they’re still breathing,” Jaime reported. “But what’s with the horns? No account has ever described them has having those.”

“They are not part of their natural physiology,” Wearwolf said.

“And they’re on the trees, too,” Katrina noted. “Maybe they’re some sort of insect?”

“I am not familiar with this form of invertebrate,” Wearwolf said. “Perhaps they are from another region.”

Jaime reached down to touch the horn. Just short of making contact, the Dryad suddenly snapped open its amber-colored eyes. The eyes moved slowly and directly to view each of the faces before them, yet they lacked any glimmer of awareness. Slowly, it sat up as if rising from its grave. Everyone quickly backed away.

“Uh, hello, good morning, or evening, or something,” Katrina said. She took the mandrake from Rion’s arms and held her up for Dryad to see. The others appeared to be waking up as well. “We brought your kid back. See? So, if you want, we’ll just set the kid down, slowly back out, and never return again. Okay?”

The Dryad were slowly rising to their feet, their expressionless faces unchanging. Dragging their feet, they began to shuffle towards the humans. Even more started shambling out from the trees.

“I fear handing over the child is not in our best interests,” Wearwolf said.

“They’re like zombies,” Jaime stated.

“I think it’s time to go,” Rion said. His Reagan whined to life as he armed it. Jaime got out her gun too and switched the safety off.

“We cannot leave yet,” Wearwolf said. “There is a strong scent similar to the horns in the center of the sanctuary. We must investigate.”

“What!?” Katrina exclaimed, tucking still-sleeping the mandrake under her arm. “That’s crazy!”

“What’s he want?” Rion asked. There was a loud snap as an electric beam struck out from his gun and knocked a Dryad down.

“He says there’s something deeper in he wants to see,” Katrina said.

“This isn’t exactly the best time for sight-seeing,” Jaime said, shooting down another Dryad. It slowly stood back up. “Dammit!”

“What now?” Katrina asked.

“We’re going to have to be more careful shooting them,” Jaime replied. “They keep getting back up.”

“So just knock them back down,” Katrina said.

“It’s not that easy, especially if we‘re trying not to hurt them,” Rion said. “In order to get back up from a stun blast like that so soon takes an enormous amount of strain on the body. If we just shoot them again, the shock could kill them.”

“No living creature could push itself like that,” Jaime said. “I think something else is doing the pushing for them.”

“Like a mind control parasite or something?” Katrina asked. “With a mother brain controlling them all?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a theory,” Jaime said. “If we could take out the central consciousness governing the parasites, it might take them all out in one shot.”

“Otherwise, we could be shooting at these guys long after their dead,” Rion added. “Assuming we’ve got enough energy for that.”

“Mother brain it is,” Katrina said. “But how’ll we get through the mob?”

“We can use Chimeric Fusion, like when we fought Rossiter,” Wearwolf said. “Then we can fight our way through.”

“But we’re still pretty banged up from last night,” Katrina said. “You sure you wanna try that?”

“I see no other alternatives,” Wearwolf said. “We must free them.”

“Then I guess it’s time for some Chimeric Fusion,” Katrina said, setting the Mandrake down. “How did we do that, again?”

“Just follow my lead,” Wearwolf said.

Katrina braced herself as Wearwolf began to glow. He shattered into several spheres of energy that gathered around Katrina’s body. They coalesced over her arms and legs, becoming clawed, fur-tufted gloves and boots. They merged over her torso, becoming furry shorts and vest. They settled over hear head, becoming a wolf-like hood. Wearwolf opened his eyes to a look of determination.

“Chimeric Fusion complete,” Wearwolf reported.

“Awesome,” Katrina said. She took the blankets wrapped around the mandrake and used it to strap her to her back. “You guys cover me. I’m going in.”

“Wait!” Rion called out. “Don’t just take her with… Oh, never mind…”

Rion and Jaime turned and fired into the crowd ahead of Katrina, attempting to make her progress as easy as possible as the twins followed her. Katrina was soon in the thick of it, knocking Dryad down and throwing them into each other.

“It is imperative that we do not harm them,” Wearwolf said. “They are not acting of their own accord.”

“I’m sure they’d understand,” Katrina said, flipping over one Dryad and tripping another. “It’s not like they’re leaving us much choice.”

Katrina slammed a shoulder into one of the Dryad and immediately regretted it. The pain from her injury forced her back off and cradle her shoulder. She probably would’ve been overwhelmed if it weren’t for some well-placed shots by Rion and Jaime.

As Katrina cursed to herself, she heard a quiet murmuring from the mandrake on her back. Half-asleep, the Dryad child gently placed a hand on Katrina’s shoulder and yawned. The pain in Katrina’s shoulder was soon replaced with a warm, tingling feeling.

“The Dryad have fantastic healing abilities,” Wearwolf said as the mandrake went limp and continued to snooze. “But it wears them out. We shouldn‘t rely on that too much.”

“But why use it now?” Katrina asked as she slammed a fist into the gut of another Dryad. “If she was awake enough to use it, why me?”

“Mandrake tend to be empathic,” Wearwolf explained. “She may have sensed the pain of the others and healed us because we were closer.”

Katrina and her friends continued to force their way to the center of the sanctuary. The violet gunk had become far more abundant and pulsated with an unsettling synchronicity. It contracted and rippled underfoot in organic, peristaltic waves. Katrina felt like it was trying to swallow her, digest her, absorb her.

“It’s here, isn’t it?” Katrina asked.

“Yes, the scent is strongest here,” Wearwolf replied.

“Something better be here,” Jaime said. “I don’t think we can go much farther.”

“Hey, I don’t think we’re being followed anymore,” Rion said.

Katrina looked around. Somehow she hadn’t noticed until just now, but the Dryad were now giving them a wide amount of space. In fact, they were gathered at all the visible exit points, staring at humans blankly.

“Okay,” Katrina said. “This is either really, really good, or really, really bad.”

“I vote bad,” Rion said.

“Bad,” Jaime agreed.

“This is indeed cause for concern,” Wearwolf said.

“That makes it unanimous,” Katrina said. “Whatever’s in has to be a lot more dangerous than a horde of Dryad-zombies. The question is: Where is it?”

“Katrina…” Rion warned, aiming his Reagan past her. Jaime had hers aimed at something behind Katrina. Katrina heard it before Rion had said anything. Stretching and gurgling and throbbing. There was an acrid, meaty smell as well, which she realized she had been sensing through Wearwolf’s nose. She turned slowly, knowing she wasn’t going to like what she was going to find.

Looking back at Katrina was her own face, a reflection in a huge, glistening eye set into a churning, violet mass. It was one of many, arranged like a ball atop a giant, upside-down horn like a ice cream cone, the closest of which were trained directly at her. The rest darted about with paranoid twitching motions. It hung from the sun-blocking web hanging atop the sanctuary from a twisting, sinewy, violet cord as thick as a tree that pulsed with viscous juices that Katrina cared not to think about.

“Guys,” Katrina said, backing away slowly, “I think we found mama.”