"W-Wait, what are you going to do?" Dorothea asked, her voice trembling as her eyes widened in fear.
Her limbs were bound tightly by the dryads' vines.
They were twisting, living things that slithered with unnatural precision.
Any slight movement from her only prompted the vines to constrict tighter, coiling around her arms and legs like serpents determined to crush all resistance.
The Dryads' vines weren't just for show.
They were infamous for their terrifying strength.
Once entangled, unless you had overwhelming force, there was no hope of escape.
They'd keep draining your life force until you were reduced to a dry, shriveled husk, no more than a lifeless shell.
Panic would've been a natural reaction for anyone caught like this.
But, as she squirmed in confusion and fear, what truly rattled Dorothea was the question burning in her wide eyes—why did I have this kind of power?
Her disbelief was understandable.
No people could tame even one Dryad, let alone three.
