AN : this story is excellent, the sex, the plot, the fights, the characters’ personas and the descriptions and layout of the crypt which was just really easily to imagine, everything is super good. So to iWTBAT, ChronoSeth, Newishdemonwriter, The 1 and the few anonymous ones, thanks for making one of the most special, interesting and fun stories on CYOC.
Please take note of the fact that this follows the “canon” of Isaac’s story, items and characters have the same background story as in these guys’ story I named before. the dagger is still the same, the ring too and people like Ilvir and Mary will show up. The difference is that Fytomorfia’s presence will influence most things, but some key events will be playing out the same, so sorry but I may have to kind of copy and paste some chapters at times, there will be a warning when it happens.
Alright, time to start this alternate storyline with some background for Fytomorfia, hope you like sappy stuff.
Ps : starting next chapter I’ll be using my computer, doing this one with a phone. Also I have no idea how to make a proper AN. Also sorry for any mistakes, phone is hard to write on.
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Isaac thought about it, the fruit looked too much like is altered balls for it being a coincidence, yet the dryad seemed genuinely concerned by the paladin’s fate. Maybe she truly meant well? But what if her definition of “help” was wrong for a human, or whatever he now was?
He sighed, he honestly did not have the will to fight her, not after having struggled so much just to reach the entrance of the crypt, let alone find the actual entryway.
“But maybe we could help each other,” he thought, looking around, “this glade is mostly untainted by the looks of it, and she seems to have some kind of control keeping the corruption at bay, so I take it no monster would try to kill me were I to take a nap...”
He reluctantly lowered his sword, gently pushing the fruit away with a hand.
For once, he would try to call a truce, being alone in this place sounded like suicide, and even a friendly monster was surely better company then a horde of sex-craving demons, ghouls and whatnots lurking the depts of these caverns.
“Sorry, but I simply cannot trust you yet,” the sentence came as gentle but firm.
Fytomorfia looked deceived, but then gave a weak smile, and changed. He brown bark-like skin turned to a color closer to grass and her hands now had a human shape, save for, like Isaac minus the thorns, being made of thin vines, actual nails made from chipped bark. The lower portion of her body changed to a pod of sort, it was unclear whether she had legs or if the pod truly was her lower body. Taking it from the vine, she lowered the fruit and with the care a mother would display only to her own child, carefully covered the fruit in the fertile soil, where its seeds would eventually mature.
But before she could go away.
“Wait, I may not need THIS one, but, you see, I nearly became a cursed tree trying to get here, and anything to help with this situation would be appreciated”, he declared with hurry, seing the dryad alternatively express confusion, shoot him a “no shit Sherlock, as if I could miss your corrupted dick and balls” look, and finished with a roll of her eyes, as if she had expected his request.
Without a word, she went down, sucked in the dirt, popping back near a tree at the center of the garden.
As he approached, Isaac gasped in awe at the sight.
Reaching to the ceiling, the heart-shaped leaves, while black, were framed silver with veins of the same color running along. Pure white bark scintillated in the dim light, creating light itself, an aura of purity was emanating from the tree, calm and peace taking over the paladin’s mind. Ivory, but not tern, vibrantly white coloured peach-like fruits hanged from the branches, the frame of its greenery a perfect dome that gave a feeling of security to all under the contrasting foliage.
It was a tree he had only dreamed of seeing and read about only once.
“A White-Heart tree,” he could only whisper.
The dryad simply nodded, still with her back turned to him.
“Under my care, I have once fled from the crypt with the mission of planting it to hinder the corruption’s progress. The seed was so small, like a small, white pearl the size a grain of sand, I was so scared, I had to not lose it.”
Her breath quivered and she turned around.
Tears of emotion filed her vibrant green gaze.
“I have taken care of this sanctuary for so many years I cannot even think of what back there once looked like. This,” she gestured to the room around them, “is my home now, where my heart is at peace,” Fytomorfia slowly turned back to the tree and pressed a trembling palm against the immaculate bark. “Or should be. This tree has begun protecting this sanctuary since its first leaf budded. Its power is grand, but even with my help, we cannot seal the dark power of this place forever,” her head hung low, she seemed defeated, “for so long have I tried, tried to save others foolish enough to enter this cursed place, and for what,” she finally lost her cool, her hands now curled fists which she threw in the air, her face filled with indescribable emotions, “NOTHING, THEY ARE ALL DEAD BECAUSE I WASN’T STRONG ENOUGH TO DO A SINGLE, SIMPLE TASK CORRECTLY!!!”
Her monologue ended with her falling to the ground, her pod opening to reveal a thin dress of moss that had a torn, jagged design to it. On her knee, she sobbed uncontrollably, not caring anymore about Isaac and the fact he could simply draw his sword out to end her life. Instead of the dryad with a calm attitude he met only minutes ago was now a sad, broken woman.
Isaac couldn’t help but feel his heart shatter at her distress. Clearly what she had, or had failed to do, haunted her.
She wasn’t a monster, only someone with a task that weighted too much to be carried alone.
With a small smile, sword now sheated, he brought two fingers, careful not to hurt her with the thorns of his vines, forgetting his own predicament for a moment, and lifted her head so their eyes met.
When he spoke, the calm and peace of his voice rivaled that of the White-Heart tree itself.
“I see that you have memories which are painful, but you still tend to your task without faltering, despite the corruption at your door, you haven’t fled, which is both honorable and courageous from you, and as a paladin, I can tell that many in the Order could learn from you. You have nothing to be ashamed of, okay? You can cry for the dead, but it won’t ever bring any back, or stop the corruption for that matter. I was sent to find and eliminate the source of the corruption, but as you can see by my current state, alone, I have near none of a chance or hope to carry this task to an end. As the caretaker of this place, you have knowledge of the crypt no one possess, and I was trained to fight off the corruption with the help of my sword and holy spells...,” he sighed, here came the big one.
“The both of us, we have what the other lacks, you may be my only hope to find the source, I can protect you and your control over nature can allow me to focus on my task instead of searching for food, and as a creature of magic, I could make an exception and teach you ways to repel the corruption, holy spells and rituals of cleansing mainly.”
With his help, both got up, Fytomorfia now wide eyed as she understood where his speech was leading.
“I am aware that we know nothing of the other, but so far you are the only one I know who can help me, so please, Fytomorfia, dryad and protector of this sanctuary, can I ask of you the sacrifice of guiding me in this crypt and leaving behind what you fought to build for years? Even if you may never come back?”
For a moment, pure shock was etched to her face, but slowly, she became pensive.
She, even with help from the White-Heart, had never been near powerful enough to seal the corruption of the crypt away, which was the hope Crawnav had to save their world from his errors. He had stayed behind in hope of finding a way to destroy this threat, but after so long, she knew he had failed, she too had failed.
But maybe... this paladin, even on the brink of losing himself to corruption, his heart stayed pure and true. Sure, maybe he seemed a bit prideful, but nobody was really perfect, right? And if not for the White-Heart, nothing truly did refrained her from leaving...
With a deep breath, her mind made, Fytomorfia smiled at Isaac, an uncertain and wavering smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“Yes, I hid away for too long by now, it is time I face my past.”
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Ps : I totally forgot, but reading this branch first will come with spoilers of the original one at times, and I will shape more of what happened with Crawnav through Fytomorfia’s memories, still based on “canon”.
Okay now you can go choose an option if you want. This is the only time I will talk (so please don’t take this down because I talked too much), I will only make another AN again if a future AN in this branch is addressed to me. Until then, don’t worry, I will remain entirely silent.