The lure of the fey

So what was the trouble we foreshadowed earlier?

What it does: [AC] Deceive (physical) | How it looks: [8S] Complex (mystical) | How significant: [3] About average

A Nimuein, tricking Lux into thinking she’s a trustworthy dryad.

Lux stumbles, weary, head fuzzy, but driven now by a **** need. She ignores Minn’s annoying voice, buzzing in her ear, while the roar of the river fades in the distance. The song is the only sound she has time for. It echoes in her soul.

Up ahead, she sees the source of that wonderful music, outlined in the mist. A little taller than Willow, perhaps, long hair cascading down behind her like a cloak. Too far away to make out details, but Lux feels drawn, enraptured, compelled to keep moving closer.

A sharp pain in her ear, a tiny hand pulling, pinching. She swats it away. For a moment, the words hey! listen! pierce into her consciousness.

“Minn, stop it,” Lux grumbles. “Look, the dryads are going to help…”

“Lux, wait, no!” There’s something in Minn’s voice that Lux hasn’t heard there before; something that nearly breaks her stride. Fear.

The song grows louder – but discordant, for a moment.

“Lux, it’s not the dryads! It’s the nimuein!”

Lux glances back, suddenly uneasy. “What does that mean – ?”

She’s cut off with a strangled cry as something snags her arms – her legs – and then she’s off-balance, falling, being dragged through grass and dirt – head spinning, winded, fighting against whatever bonds now tightly hold her. No good. As her eyes dart around, she realises that she’s been snared by vines, strong and thick, that move with a life of their own – or with powerful primal magic.

Dazed, she feels herself being lifted, arms and legs spread wide, and before she can even think about how much worse this feels being naked, she’s brought face-to-face with the dryad. At least, what she’d thought was a dryad – naked as Lux is and unashamed in her splendour, her full figure worthy of a carved goddess – but then, there are the eyes. Pale and cold and cruel, set into a face that feels somehow wrong up close, both beautiful and terrible.

“If only you had listened,” the strange woman muses, sweetly. “Your little winged friend tried so hard.”

“Wait,” Lux calls out, “one of your sisters sent me. Willow. I’m looking for the Hamadryad!”

“One of my sisters?” The woman’s lips twist in a crooked smile. “I…think not. None of my sisters would bid you free the Queen of the Forest from her cage. After all, we’re the ones who built it.”

Not a dryad. A shiver runs through Lux. “Who are you?” she asks, already dreading the answer.

“Now you think to ask,” the woman says. “I am Solana, of the nimuein.” She chuckles at Lux’s blank reaction. “You don’t even know what that means. Well, it means bad news for you, little devil.”

“I’m not a – look, please, I’m not involved in whatever your conflict is,” Lux stammers, desperately. “I’m not your enemy. I don’t even belong here.”

“Oh, no, you don’t belong here. You don’t belong anywhere.” Solana’s voice drips sweet poison. “But you are my enemy. Corrupted with fiend blood, wielding dark magic – you are an abomination. Whatever am I to do with you?”