Rebirth of the Nephilim

“Sit down,” Kreios told them as he circled around to the other side of the round depression in the ground. “I will make some tea.”

The three of Jadis settled down on the slabs of boulder that surrounded the shallow pit, tucking her legs in to make sure she didn’t cause any damage. She was still in her full armor, but she had removed her helmets, at least, since she wanted the Dryad to be able to see her face as a token of openness. Jadis made sure that Meli was seated between her Jay and Dys selves, while her Syd self was on the right of her Jay body. While Meli wasn’t showing a lot of emotion at the moment, Jadis could see the subtle signs of anxiety her lover was giving off. Understandable, since she hadn’t seen her father in decades, and they hadn’t parted on good terms from what Jadis understood.

Kreios, for his part, was proving to be hard to read. The Dryad moved slowly and deliberately, with measured steps and precise actions. Silently, he filled a clay pot with water from a larger jug and placed it on the irregularly shaped stone that had been set in the middle of the pit. With a touch of his hand, the stone began to glow red, heating the water without any need for a fire. Meanwhile, Kreios pulled small pouches of dried leaves from hidden places behind the log he was sitting on and began to grind them with a mortar and pestle. Jadis noticed that he carefully examined each leaf before putting it in the bowl to be crushed, and on at least two occasions, he set a leaf aside for reasons Jadis could not guess at.

The man was completely silent, and barely even looked up from his work. In fact, other than his subdued, almost cold greeting earlier, he had barely said anything at all. He hadn’t even touched Meli yet, and she had not reached out to him. Jadis would have guess that anger or resentment was behind Kreios’ behavior, but something about his body language didn’t fit with that assessment. He looked more sad than upset, though his expression was so stiff it was hard to know for sure.

A large, wet nose snuffling against the back of Syd’s head distracted her from her thoughts. Reaching up with one hand, she made to push the beast away.

“Do not put your hand near Kéras’ mouth,” Meli advised quietly. “He bites.”

“Then I’m pretty sure I don’t want him anywhere near my ears…” Syd grumbled as she tried to shoo the giant elk away from her.

Kéras was Kreios’ companion beast, apparently. Meli’s father was an animist, and he had specialized in empowering his chosen companion to supernatural heights. Lupina Elk were omnivores, as Meli had explained while her father had led them into the grove, and were just as at home grazing the trees for fruit as they were hunting in packs for small prey. The sharp teeth Jadis had spotted poking out of the creature’s mouth certainly looked like they were capable of tearing flesh from bone, and if she didn’t have such high defensive stats, she probably would have followed Meli’s advice and kept her fingers far away from those jaws. But, since she was armored and quite sturdy, she shoved at Kéras’ furry muzzle to keep him from chewing on her hair.

The elk, for his part, didn’t seem to mind. With a great huff, the beast settled onto the ground behind Jadis and contentedly chewed on some leaves while only occasionally turning his head to sniff curiously at Syd’s side.

“Kéras likes your scent,” Kreios stated as he carefully measured out equal portions of the powdered leaves into five cups. “That speaks in favor of your claim to be a Nephilim.”

“Meli’s word isn’t enough?” Dys challenged before she could think better. “She swore that I am.”

Kreios looked hard at Dys for a moment before he looked down again, focused on the boiling clay pot. Picking it up, he measured out exact amounts of steaming water into each cup so that they were all even before replying.

“Meli may have been misled.”

“I am not,” Meli responded firmly. “She is Nephilim. I have seen her status sheet. She has been acknowledged by Villthyrial himself. He gifted her a guardian soul grub.”

The older Dryad paused at Meli’s words for a moment, then set the plain brown clay cups within reach for Jadis and Meli on the slowly cooling stone. Taking his own in hand, he let the steam waft over his face in silence. It wasn’t until after Jadis’ three selves had taken their tea and Meli had retrieved her own and taken a careful sip that the man spoke again.

“I believe that you believe. That is enough for now.”

Jadis wasn’t sure if she liked that response or not, but it was what they had to work with, so she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she let the cups of tea in her hands cool a bit while taking the time to study her surroundings a little more closely.

The Μοναξιά Grove was significantly different from Yorath’s home in Weigrun. Rather than a large, intertwined wall of trees surrounding a multi-layered, branching series of ancient trees with homes grown out of the boughs and leaves, this grove was all on ground level. There were ancient ash trees surrounding the area, but they were not a true barrier to entry. Inside the large circle they made, the ground was covered in soft green grass, with weathered boulders sticking up from the soil at odd angles. Each stone was covered in worn runes that seemed very different from the modern enchantments that Jadis was familiar with, and she was sure that Sabina would have a field day examining the carved inscriptions. The trees inside the grove came in a startling variety, from pines to fruiting trees, but they shared the universal trait of exuding health and vitality. Sweet scents from countless flowers were carried on the gentle breeze, undercut by the wholesome smell of old and decomposing wood. Small birds flitted between the branches, breaking the silence with their soft chirps and whistles, but otherwise the trees were calm and still.

Perhaps too still.

“Where is the rest of the grove?” Meli asked the question that Jadis was thinking.

“Hiding in the κήπος,” Kreios answered without meeting Meli’s eyes. “When we saw your shadows flying overhead, we assumed you were coming to attack.”

 “What happened to the κήπος? I saw the destruction from above. The trees… they looked rotted.”

That question did draw Kreios’ eyes up to meet his daughter’s gaze.

“We were attacked by Demons. Silenus is dead.”

Meli’s face fell, her shoulders hunching together as she seemed to shrink in on herself. Jadis instantly put hands on her lover’s back, offering comfort from both sides. While her Jay self focused on Meli, her Dys self stared at Kreios reproachfully.

“Who is—was Silenus?” Jay asked her lover gently.

“He was my brother.”

At Meli’s words, Jadis saw a flicker of some strong emotion twisting her father’s face. For a moment, he looked lost and confused, completely uncertain of himself. Then his expression smoothed to uniform blankness.

“Would you… like to visit his grave?” the older Dryad asked in a wary tone.

“Yes, please,” Meli nodded once.

Setting her untouched tea down, Jadis followed the two Dryads as they walked further into the grove. It didn’t take long before they reached a moss-covered stone that had several small mounds lifting the ground around it. Runes had been carved in the stone that lined up with each of the mounds, and one of the runes had clearly been etched recently, considering how sharp the edges still were. A mix of red and purple bell-shaped flowers were growing atop the mound, and a single, water-smoothed stone had been left in the middle of the patch.

Meli knelt at the foot of the grave and ran her left hand through the flowers, which caused a shower of silver pollen to fall from the blooms.

“How did he die?”

“Defending the κήπος,” Kreios answered from where he stood off to one side.

“Perhaps he would have lived if I had been here,” Meli stated, causing Jadis’ hearts to clench.

“Probably,” her father shrugged.

What the absolute fuck?

Jadis felt her hackles flare at the almost casual way Kreios had just put the blame for his son’s death on his daughter’s absence. It was possibly the most heartless thing he could have said in the moment, yet it had been delivered with almost no emotion. Meli was clearly in pain, and he had just tossed salt into the wound without even a moment of hesitation.

“That is your answer to that question?” Dys blurted, glaring at the man with her outrage painted on her face. “How can you say that to your daughter!?”

Kreios looked over at Dys, though his eyes did not lift to meet hers. He seemed more confused than anything by her anger.

“Silenus was tending to the λουλούδια when he was killed. That was Meli’s duty before she left. If she had remained, Silenus would likely not have been there, so he likely would not have died.”

“So, you’re saying Meli would have died if she had been here?” Dys practically growled. “Your daughter, instead of your son?”

“Likely,” Kreios stated calmly. “The attack was sudden.”

“You make it sound like you would have preferred that!”

Kreios frowned, his head tilting to one side as he stared at the ground where Meli still knelt.

“I did not say that.”

“But you’re implying it!”

“I am—”

“Meli!”

A woman’s voice cut off whatever the man was going to say. Jadis had been so lost in her ire for Kreios’ attitude that she had stopped paying attention to her surroundings. It was with a start that she realized that a small gathering of figures had come through the trees to the east. There were perhaps a dozen of them, all Dryads, and all dressed in the familiar toga-like robes that Meli favored. The one at the fore was a beautiful woman with light green skin and amethyst eyes that shone with an inner light. She had a crown of small, sharp horns circling her head, just like Meli, though the ones in the back were longer than the ones in the front, which was the sole difference. Her hair was made of long, thin leaves that reminded Jadis of spider plants with how white stripes lined the green.

The female Dryad had a look of disbelief on her face, which quickly transformed into tearful joy as she ran forward. In an instant, the Dryad had fallen against Meli, her arms wrapped around her in a hug that steel couldn’t have cut through.

“Κόρη μου, πού ήσουν; Μου έλειψες τόσο πολύ!”

“I have missed you as well, mother,” Meli said against the other Dryad’s shoulder, squeezing her back just as fiercely.

As Jadis watched, the other Dryads approached, some coming close enough to stand above the kneeling mother and daughter, others warily keeping their distance. They whispered in their language, looking up at the three of Jadis’ bodies with confused suspicion and interest. Oddly, Jadis noticed that none of them tried to talk to Kreios, nor did he try to explain anything. Instead, he simply stepped aside, passively watching his wife and daughter from a distance.

One Dryad who had not rushed forward with the rest slowly approached Jadis directly. As she walked, the others made room for her to pass, showing obvious signs of respect and deference. She moved at a measured pace, leaning on a gnarled staff with each step, giving Jadis plenty of time to observe her.

She was old. Very, very old. Yorath had felt like a man who had counted his life in centuries, but this Dryad made him look young. Her skin was a dark, rough bark with lines deep enough to lose a coin in, and her back was bent and hunched with age. Splitting branches arched away from her head, and long willow fronds that lacked any hint of flowers drooped from the ends, creating a curtain around the old Dryad’s head and body that dragged across the ground with each step. The toga she wore was gray, with black symbols stitched into the material. A cord that was decorated with all manner of strange and esoteric things, from claws and bones to seed pods and stones, hung around her neck. When she came to a stop in front of Jay, the odd items clacked together like a wooden windchime.

“I have not seen a face such as yours in a very, very long time,” the ancient Dryad said in a voice that was surprisingly strong. “Where did you get it?”

“I was born with it,” Jay replied to the odd question in the most honest way she knew how.

“So you were…” the Dryad murmured, orange eyes glinting in the dappled light. “A gift from your mother…”

“I am Lyssandria’s child,” Jay asserted. She didn’t want to lie, but she wasn’t going to reveal everything about her unusual past to someone she had just met. However, some plain truth was due. “While I love her for all she has done for me, I admit that Destarious is my patron, not Lyssandria, and I am bound by my oath to him, not his mother.”

“Mm,” the ancient woman made a satisfied noise in the back of her throat. “I see that now. My name is Soteria. Come with me. We will talk.”