The Brightvale Forest was quieter than normal, Charlotte realised. Not in the mundane sense - she could still hear the usual mix of birdsong, animals moving around, water rushing, and wind whistling. To the average human, nothing would seem amiss.

To a trained Huntress, on the other hand, the change to the magical world was immediately apparent. Ordinarily, she’d expect to see at least a nymph or two, maybe some fae, perhaps even a lesser demon or angel given the Brightvale’s size. She had, in fact, seen that sort of thing on her way over here, to examine reports of a potential therianthrope in the isolated hamlet of Stillbrook. (Turns out it’s surprisingly easy for a farmer with few reservations and a petty grudge to fake being something far more powerful than they are.) Then, the forest had been positively abuzz with magical beings, none of whom had given her trouble, fortunately. Now, however, she couldn’t see or sense anyone - even the wind and river sounded duller to her, as though their respective nymphs had been drained of power, or worse.

Charlotte frowned to herself, tucking some stray red hair back behind her ears. The fact that she’d not noticed anything was unusual, especially as she continued deeper into the heart of the Brightvale and still saw no signs of any magic. Stillbrook wasn’t that far from the forest - close enough that any being powerful enough to kill or subdue the magosphere over such a wide area should have registered to her spells. Even if it had somehow been stealthy enough to evade her, she didn’t know of any such being who wouldn’t subsequently brag about the deed far and wide. So maybe the explanation was more innocuous - they’d all worn themselves out, or something. Or maybe it was something far deadlier than she could handle. She made the decision to unsheathe her sword, keeping it out at arm’s length as she proceeded down the trail. Her pistol remained in its holster for now - no sense in getting the deadlier weapon out when she didn’t even know if she’d need to fight. She switched to high alert, and noticed something that had evaded her before: a sweet scent, wafting through the air. It was subtle, but once she’d attuned to it, it was everywhere. It was vaguely floral, almost verging on sickly, although it never became too obnoxious. Had this been here on her first journey? Surely not - as she walked on, it slowly became stronger, until she was sure she would have noticed it at the time. Odd. She kept going.

Eventually, Charlotte came to a small clearing. She scanned her surroundings before entering it - it was the perfect spot for an ambush - and whipped her head around as she heard someone breathing. Holding her sword up, she prowled towards its source. Whoever was making the noise clearly wasn’t trying to be stealthy; they (she? It seemed feminine) almost seemed to be sighing - or were they groaning? Charlotte’s eyes fixed upon a fallen log as she narrowed in on the person. There they were - the top of their head was poking above it, as though they were slumped against it. She angled around the log, trying to get a better sense of who this person was before approaching. They didn’t give any sign of recognising her approach, and as she got her first proper look at them, she realised why.

The person, it turned out, was an aura, or wind nymph, as evidenced by the slight blue tint to her skin and hair. As was common for nymphs, she was entirely naked. As was not common for nymphs, especially aurae, she was lying still, head barely propped up, eyes glazed over. She had a vague smile on her face, but Charlotte could see a trickle of some sort of red liquid coming from the aura’s mouth, accompanied by a host of smaller red stains on her limbs and torso. Gods - she was injured.

Charlotte quelled her first instinct, which was to rush in and offer aid immediately, and forced herself to take a more tactical approach. Maybe this was a trap; maybe whatever had hurt the aura was still around; maybe she was faking it. Instead, Charlotte methodically scanned the clearing, looking once more for any sign of danger. Eventually determining nothing was hiding in the area, she called out.

“Hello? Ms? Are you alright there?”

The nymph tried to raise her head, failed, and gave a dazed murmur. Okay. She probably wasn’t trying to trap Charlotte herself; that sort of trick usually involved the “victim” making a lot more noise. Lowering her sword, Charlotte hurried over to the aura, kneeling next to her.

“I’m here to help you, okay? Just stay calm; you’ll be fine.”

She began to examine the aura more closely, and frowned at what she saw. The nymph appeared unharmed, aside from the bl- no, that wasn’t blood. It was her saliva, with some sort of red powder suspended in it. There were patches of this powder across her body as well, as well as streaks of some other liquid, giving the impression of cuts where there were none. Charlotte hesitantly dabbed up the liquid for further inspection, bringing it to her nose for a sniff. She recoiled at the scent - it was that same sweet smell permeating the forest, in far more concentrated form. Looking back at her patient, she noticed two more details. One, the aura hadn’t reacted at all to her ministrations, instead continuing to stare into the distance with that dazed expression. And two, her nipples and crotch clearly attested to her arousal. So… was she drugged, maybe? Perhaps that was what the scent was doing - Charlotte hadn’t noticed any effects on herself, but her wards would have seen to that. So what was that powder, then?

Determining that the aura was not in any immediate danger, Charlotte resolved to leave her. Nymphs didn’t need anything to sustain themselves beyond the existence of their associated element, and the wind certainly wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. Hopefully Charlotte would work out a way to help her out, but she wasn’t going to do that by just standing over her. There was a chance she’d be attacked… but Charlotte had no way of knowing how long she’d have to stand guard if she chose to do so - nymphs usually operated on longer timescales than mortals - and given the low level of magical activity right now, Charlotte assumed that anything which could pose a threat to the nymph would either be knocked out itself, or too far away to do anything. She returned to the trail and moved on, trying to work out what was happening here.

As Charlotte continued along the path, the sweet scent on the air continued to grow, as did her puzzlement. Now she knew what to look for, she was seeing more and more dazed? Enchanted? Drugged? beings, scattered to either side of her. She crossed a stream and saw a gaggle of naiads draped along the banks. Fairies were lying curled up in flowers, panting slightly. In the next clearing, she saw a gang of satyrs - generally creatures to watch out for, especially as a young woman - but these too were just slumped over, the same red powder and sweet liquid coating their nigh-constant erections. None of the creatures she found paid her any attention, and none seemed to be injured beyond whatever spell had been placed upon their minds. Oddly, she still couldn’t see any dryads. The sweetness was now everywhere, seeming to grow as she continued towards the heart of the Brightvale, thickening the air.

She suddenly registered a burst of power, coming from just off the trail. After a brief bout of deliberation, she decided that it was likely emanating from whatever had cast this spell, and resolved to leave the path to track down whatever the cause of this anomaly was. Sword raised again, she effectively followed her nose, as the sweetness almost seemed to invade her body. She knew if it weren’t for her wards, she’d be just as knocked out as anyone else here.

Something fell on Charlotte’s head, and she looked up. She saw the boughs of an enormous cherry tree looming over her, dripping with flowers - one of which had just hit her. She took a cautious sniff, and wobbled as a burst of sweetness and arousal hit her even through her magic. The trunk was up ahead, and she suddenly knew it was there that she’d get answers. As she cautiously walked forward, a rustling in the canopy caught her attention. She jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the lamia dropping down in front of her, breasts flopping to Charlotte’s eye level. She pointed her blade at the demon, but quickly realised that even she was caught by this scent, eyes just as glazed, body just as limp and coated in fluid and powder as any other. The only sign of her power was that she was just conscious enough to still be wrapped around a branch for support, letting her dangle rather than fall. Pushing past the fiend, watching her sway pleasingly as she did so, Charlotte stepped into another clearing, and locked eyes with the source of the spell that had been cast over the forest.

Said source was a tall, curvy woman, propping herself up against the trunk of the cherry. Her hair was long and pale pink, matching the petals, and her skin had a slight greenish tint to it. A dryad, and clearly the cherry belonged to her. She was currently moaning wantonly as three other dryads tended to her: two sucking at her breasts, and one working between her legs, all with a look of fervent devotion on their faces. Looking around, more dryads were littering the forest floor, all clearly under the elder’s thrall. If the state of her tree hadn’t given it away, this would have: the elder was clearly in her flowering season, an event which only happened rarely. While dryads could reproduce the same as any plant without an associated nymph, their florescence was also accompanied by attempts to have sex with any sapient being, as a second way to spread their essence. Clearly, this one was very successful. Charlotte wasn’t sure if the growing heat in her belly was purely due to the scent of her nectar, as she now recognised it for, or the increasingly erotic scene in front of her.

The elder hit her climax, bringing the trio of lesser dryads with her. Nectar and red pollen practically exploded from her, coating her latest servants. As they shuddered in delight, all three crumpled to the floor, entering the same state as everyone else, systems too overwhelmed with pleasure to manage anything more complex. They would eventually make their ways back to their own plants, bringing the pollen with them.

The dryad looked up, and met Charlotte’s eyes. She smiled lazily.

“What do we have here? A human, completely unaffected by my charms? How interesting. I am Gilâs, eldest dryad of this forest. Who might you be, and why are you here?” She rose to her feet, swaying seductively. Charlotte felt a blush coming across her face as she spoke.

“I am Charlotte, Huntress of the Goldbreach Chapter. I was seeking the cause of the… languidness of the magical inhabitants of this forest, and now I appear to have found it. I mean you no harm.”

Gilâs chuckled indulgently. “I do not perceive any threat, my dear. Your counter-charms may withstand me for now, but were you to attack me, I doubt they could withstand my full force, aimed directly at you. Although it appears that mere mortal charm may be enough to persuade you to allow your own fertilisation. Would you like that?” She approached slowly, still swaying, watching with amusement as the red on Charlotte’s face continued to deepen. The Huntress stammered slightly.

“I- uh- I am deeply tempted by that offer, ma’am, but I fear my body would not withstand the aftereffects too well…”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that. I’ll take good care of you, don’t you worry… Besides, my season is almost over. I’ll stop sweetening the air by tomorrow, and then you’ll be free to walk out, as long as you take my seed with you.” She winked at Charlotte, chuckling again as another blush emerged. The Huntress considered her options. Did she have anything urgent she needed to get back to Goldbreach for? No, not that she was aware of. Would an extra day’s absence be missed? No; indeed, her fellow chapter members had no clue of her progress, and even if she’d alerted them, she could easily take an extra day if she’d needed to fight. Did she want this? This gorgeous woman, temporarily stealing her mind away, fucking her senseless, and leaving her slumped over in the curve of a root or a pile of petals on the ground?

She made eye contact with Gilâs, and in response to the dryad’s question, dropped her wards. The effect was immediate as the scent slammed into her, no longer held back by her power, such as it was. She was distantly aware of her sword hitting the forest floor as her legs began to crumple, and then her Mistress was grabbing hold of her.

“I’ll take that as a yes, my dear,” Gilâs murmured as she brought the near-insensate human in for a kiss. Her tongue dove straight into Charlotte’s mouth, flooding her with her sweetness, giving rise to a breathy moan as she fell into her Mistress’ power. The dryad delicately removed the Huntress’ clothing, cooing over her muscles and admiring the growing patch of slick between her legs.

“You are a strong one, aren’t you? You’d be excellent material indeed, if I wanted to breed you specifically… but I’m not sure I could, and that’s not what I asked of you… and you’ll be sure to take my pollen far anyway, even if you aren’t giving rise to more of my children.”

Charlotte felt a push against her shoulders, and then her head, bringing her to kneel with her face pressed against her Mistress’ core, itself slick with nectar. She immediately knew her task, beginning to lick obediently, devoting herself solely to the dryad’s pleasure. She’d always wondered why people had named such a common, almost base liquid after the drink of the gods itself, and now she had her answer, were she present enough to realise it - the taste was, in all but the most literal sense, divine. She lapped it up greedily, one hand sneaking down to between her own legs as her Mistress moaned in delight. She brought Gilâs to her climax quickly, looking up at her blankly as she was showered with nectar and pollen, marking her as a subject like any other here. Without her Mistress’ need propelling her, she stopped tending to herself, despite her burning need - whatever connection was present between the cherry and her fellow dryads, to have spurred them to climax alongside her, was not there for a mere human.

Recovering herself, Gilâs looked down at the naked Huntress. Charlotte’s face was coated with her essence, mouth open dumbly and eyes wide in nigh-worshipful awe.

“Goodness me,” she cooed. “You’re still up? Well, I suppose I should tend to your needs then, yes?” Charlotte gave the barest of nods, the only indication that there was anything between her ears at all as her Mistress pulled her to her feet and led her to the tree. She summoned a vine - not something cherries usually had, but age had given her this capability - to hoist the mindless human upwards, into a crook between two strong branches, before transporting herself up to meet her. Charlotte smiled up at her dumbly as Gilâs nestled on top of her, and then set to work. The human moaned in pleasure as her Mistress explored her body - grinding against her thigh and suffering her to do the same, pushing her fingers into her, forcing her tongue into her mouth, pinching and kissing her breasts. All she knew was a pleasurable haze and her Mistress on top of her, scent filling her every pore. The two came in unison, and Charlotte slumped down, completely spent, as Gilâs extricated herself from her subject.

By now the human was indistinguishable from any other spirit of the forest, all equally marked by their devotion to the elder dryad, to serve as vessels and carriers for her essence. Day turned to night, and Charlotte remained as she was, the sounds of more sex below her reaching her ears - not that she had the capacity to recognise it, or even know she was hearing anything at all. As the moon reached its peak, Gilâs returned to drip more nectar into Charlotte’s mouth, enough to sustain her until daybreak, so that she would not awaken starving. The Huntress lapped it up eagerly, shuddering slightly with pleasure as she did so.

And then it was morning, and Gilâs’ flowers began to close. The dryad, satisfied with her work, retreated back into her tree to recover. She would gain many children from this season, she knew. Up in the boughs, Charlotte slowly came to herself. She looked down at her body - naked and marked by Gilâs, clothes, weapons, and pack still abandoned on the forest floor. Her body ached, both from how she’d been used and the uncomfortable night she’d had - tree branches did not make for the best bed, even if you were totally relaxed. As she clambered down, heedless of who might be watching, she wondered if she should try clean up a bit… but with what? She hadn’t brought any supplies in her pack; besides, it would be rather insulting to the dryad to accept her offer of breeding and then dump her pollen not five feet from her base. She’d just have to let her clothes get covered. Oh well, they’d seen worse.

A few nymphs still lingered in the clearing, trying to recover, as Charlotte left and made her way back to the trail. They exchanged looks, knowing they were bonded by Gilâs’ selection of them. Charlotte smiled to herself as she set her sights on home. This was hardly an experience she would forget.