I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter Nine: The Druid in the Woods
The road had long since ceased to pretend it was anything close to a proper road. What had started as cracked asphalt gave way to gravel, and the gravel crumbled further into loose dirt, pocked with potholes and ruts. On either side, towering trees leaned inward as if curious about our presence, their twisting branches reaching out like long, inquisitive fingers that occasionally brushed against the sides of Richard's old car. The air felt heavier here, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles, as though the forest itself was watching us, waiting.
For the past two days, our journey had fallen into a monotonous rhythm: drive for hours, stop at a greasy roadside diner for something quick and oily, then collapse into the stiff beds of cheap motel rooms, only to repeat it all again at dawn. Each day blurred into the next—same faces behind counters, same flickering neon signs, same stale coffee and stale conversations. But now, the familiar world had slipped away, and we were swallowed by wilderness so dense it pressed in on every side. The further we drove, the thicker the woods seemed, as though the trees were trying to keep something hidden from the outside world.
I rested my head against the cool window and let my eyes wander over the dark green blur rushing past. After a long moment, I turned toward Richard. "So… what's she like?" My voice was low, cautious, almost like I was testing the air.
Richard didn't look at me. His eyes remained fixed on the twisting dirt road ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Her name's Emily," he said finally, voice rough with something like nostalgia. "She's a druid."
I frowned, unsure if I'd heard right. "A druid? What exactly does that mean?"
He let out a breath that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a sigh, the kind of sound someone makes when they realize explaining something complicated to a total novice is going to be a waste of breath. "They call themselves servants of nature. Guardians of balance, or something like that. To be honest, I've known Emily for decades, but I still don't have the faintest idea what all that means in practical terms."
I shifted in my seat, pressing my palm against the window to steady myself as the car rattled over another rough patch. "So... they're basically like magic hippies, then?"
Richard chuckled—a dry, gravelly sound that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's one way to put it."
He continued driving, expertly maneuvering around potholes and tree roots that jutted up like the bones of the forest itself. "Here's what I do know: druids are very powerful. Not just rare, but rare as hell. I've been a hunter all my life—crossed continents, faced things that would turn your nightmares inside out—and in all my years, I've only ever come across two druids. That's how rare."
That wasn't exactly the reassuring news I was hoping for.
After what felt like an eternity of twisting through the woods, the narrow dirt trail suddenly opened up into a small clearing. In the center sat a cabin—wooden, worn by time and weather, but clearly cared for. Its walls were wrapped in thick ivy that crept like veins, the greenery giving the building an ancient, almost living quality. The cabin didn't shimmer with magic or glow with any ethereal light. If anything, it looked tired, as though it had stood sentinel here since before the first trees even grew.
Richard and I climbed out of the car, groaning as we stretched muscles stiff from sitting so long. My joints cracked loudly as I straightened, a satisfying relief after hours cramped behind the wheel.
On the porch, a woman sat in a chair that seemed older than the cabin itself. She looked to be in her early seventies, with silver hair pulled loosely into a braid that fell over one shoulder. Her face was a map of wrinkles, each line a story of countless sunrises watched from this very spot. She sipped tea from a delicate cup, the slow, deliberate way she drank suggesting she had all the time in the world.
Her sharp eyes lifted and landed on Richard, a single brow arching with unmistakable amusement. "Why are you back here, you old coot?" she asked, voice teasing but edged with something sharper.
Richard's lips curled into a smile, as though he'd been waiting for that exact question all day. "Emily, I've got a favor to ask."
She snorted, unimpressed. "I'm done doing favors for ungrateful bastards like you."
Richard muttered under his breath—just low enough that only someone with supernaturally keen hearing might catch it—"Another thing about druids: they're all a little bit crazy."
I smiled despite myself but kept quiet.
Stepping forward, Richard gestured toward me. "This is Lucas. He's a werewolf. A small one. No family. He was being raised in an orphanage."
Emily's eyes sharpened, turning toward me with an intensity that felt almost like a physical weight. She studied me carefully, as if trying to unravel secrets I hadn't even figured out myself.
"That true?" she asked, voice softer now—less teasing, more genuine.
I nodded. "Yeah."
She stared a few seconds longer, then sighed deeply—like someone accepting a burden she hadn't wanted but couldn't ignore. "Alright," she said at last. "The boy can stay."
Relief washed through me like a sudden, warm wave, loosening something tight and anxious inside.
Then she turned back to Richard, her gaze hardening. "But I don't want you anywhere near my house."
Richard clutched his chest dramatically, as if she'd just delivered a mortal wound. "Come on, Emily. We've been friends for so long."
"You were never that good of a friend," she shot back without hesitation.
"For the boy, then. One night?"
She glanced my way again. There was something in her eyes—pity, maybe. Or maybe recognition.
"One night," she agreed. "For the boy."
Richard grinned, a spark of hope flashing in his eyes. "You won't regret it."
She lifted her teacup in a slow, deliberate sip. "I already do."