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Her mother was a monster in disguise. Dryya knew this far too well.
Her mother always seemed kind, understanding and compassionate. But it was always an act to lure in bugs into servitude, especially to lure in Wyrms.
Wyrms were known to enlighten minds and build kingdoms… and as a being who preys on others soul, it was the perfect partner for a root like her mother to have. The Wyrm would build a kingdom, she would be the queen, she would devour every and all citizens, including the children she had with the Wyrm, and move onto the next land.
Dryya still wasn’t certain why her mother kept her alive, didn’t devour her like the rest of her clutch. She was the offspring of Wyrm and root, a fierce warrior. But in the beginning she wasn’t fierce at all…
She was lifeless. A puppet, and has remained such ever since.
She came out of her egg, weak, vulnerable, and she could so clearly remember when the white root wrapped around her body and lifted her up. How she hung there in her grasp, panting heavily from the effort of only escaping her shell.
Her mother had commented on her weakness, that it wasn’t worth eating her like that. So she was set aside so the root could prioritise her siblings, those who were lively and full of energy from the moment they hatched.
Dryya remained weak, so the root nurtured her. And somewhere along the line, the higher being thought of a way for Dryya to be useful. Looking back on it, Dryya was the victim of many manipulation tactics… and even if she was aware of it now, when she’s grown strong and wise through training and experience, her mother still held her strings.
No matter what, there was always that small part of her, that groomed part of her, that wanted to make her mother proud.
But Dryya knew she never would be. Her only desire was to feed, and she used Dryya as a play piece, a puppet, to seem more kind and similar to those around her than she really was. Dryya had become the gateway between the root and the people. While her mother became the gateway between Dryya and the Wyrm she had seduced.
All so Dryya could help kill him when the time came.
It was sickening. How she always followed her orders without complaint, how her mother never seemed to stop eating, and how Dryya knew that if she stopped being useful she’d be eaten just like everyone else.
She was a coward…
She had been praised by so many for her combat skills. For her knowledge. For her aloof nature. But she felt like none of those praises were true, they were all lies.
No matter how strong she became in body, her heart would never be strong enough to face her mother and put an end to her tyranny.
No matter how much she knew, no knowledge could save her from the tight grip her mother held on her leash, no knowledge she gained could or should be planned to be used against her mother because she’d know instantly like she usually does.
No matter how aloof or rude she was as she interacted with others, they still wanted to become her friend , not knowing the betrayal Dryya would be forced to do as she would need to offer this friend to her mother as food.
She was a coward… a true coward who lived with the monster she wanted to escape from. To serve her. To not have a life or any wishes of her own, but only to give her whatever she wished.
Her mother was a monster…
So as she claimed the shining Wyrm as her own, Dryya already knew what was to come. Again, her combat skills were praised and she was placed in the ranks of the king's royal knights along with 4 others. By recommendation from her mother.
Just like always…
The other knights were kind, loyal, compassionate and driven to serve the kingdom. And no matter how much Dryya tried to seal off her feelings, the amount of times she met with the other 4 knights was a lot more often than she’d spent time with anyone… they performed missions together, trained together, they even worked together to defeat the black Wyrm that had been called to the kingdom through her mother’s thrall. The black Wyrm was alive still to this day. But roots that no one but Dryya noticed was slowly draining the Wyrm of whatever life it has left piece by piece in a painful process…
She seemed to favour the glowing one. Just how she had come to favour Dryya after some time. The Wyrm was useful to her, devoted to her in a way no other Wyrm had been, gave her a piece of his very soul to tighten the invisible leash she had on him.
It made her wonder how long that leash would be invisible…
When Isma approached her with worry over the Queen’s behaviour, Dryya knew for certain that it had started. She had noticed Isma’s strange behaviour, a behaviour she had come to see many times as her mother possessed others.
She should’ve said something, could’ve said anything to Isma. She had come to really like her, as a friend, perhaps more.
But she was a coward… so she couldn’t. Instead, she berated Isma for thinking that and only made her scared and closed off during the times she wasn’t possessed.
Oh how Dryya wished she had said something that day…
Dryya helped her mother subdue the Wyrm and cut off his wings when he was hesitant to do so himself. She watched as the disease spread, as Isma lost more and more of herself, how Ogrim disappeared and how both Hegemol and Ze’mer started to succumb to the root sickness.
Only Dryya was left. And her job was to command the guards of the castle to attack intruders. Where she would be the last obstacle between the enemy and the root.
So many years. Quiet. Trapped within the palace to guard the monster who fed on the land. Her friends were split up. The people were a mass of walking husks. And Dryya stood alone with her nail, forever guarding her mother until she was satisfied.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when those two children showed up. Years, definitely, and she hadn’t once moved from her spot. A perk to being a higher being, one didn't need food or water… but that was equally as much of a boon.
They wanted to end it. End the plague. But Dryya couldn’t let them pass, couldn’t let them touch her mother. And so she fought… she continued to stand back up as she was knocked down. Time. And time. And time again. Wounds gushing blood and barely able to keep her balance. But she kept on standing to guard the gate.
She wouldn’t yield.
But then she dropped her nail and fell. She hadn’t noticed the door open. Hadn’t noticed the root that slipped through. And it had now impaled her chest and pulled her into the chamber with her mother.
Just like when she was a grub, she hung limp in her mother’s grasp. Perhaps then she’d show some mercy….