Ambrose had only been looking for an excuse to stick close to a druid and avoid that dark force surging toward him. Who could have imagined that casually mentioning a name from his memories would tie him to Sares by blood?

Sares stared at him. "Where exactly did you hear that name?"

His suspicion was understandable. Alina Sanda had died over three hundred years ago. If she hadn't been recorded in his clan genealogy—and hadn't made notable contributions to the tribe—Sares himself might not have remembered her.

A Stormborn showing up in the middle of the night asking about a druid dead for three centuries—nothing about that was normal.

Ambrose could only reply, "An elder of mine once mentioned her. He lived a very long time, and his memory had grown hazy. Near the end, there weren't many names he could still recall. Alina Sanda was one of them. I took this opportunity to ask about her."

At least half of that was true. Ambrose had met too many people in his lifetime. Time had eroded most into little more than vague impressions, dust in the corners of his memory. Only a few names remained.

"In the middle of the night?" Sares said, unconvinced.

"By day, I represent the kingdom. This is a personal matter. Public and private affairs should be kept separate. Of course, disturbing you so late is undoubtedly rude of me. Please accept this small gift as an apology."

Ambrose took out a small cloth pouch and handed it over.

Sares had intended to refuse. Wealth meant little to druids; the Emerald Dreamwood barely had any to begin with. Druids were largely self-sufficient, and the forest provided everything they needed. When trade was necessary, they usually bartered.

There was little they needed to purchase, if at all.

And since the forest itself was relatively isolated, gold hardly had any value.

The druids were, naturally, indifferent to what they considered worthless.

But when Sares opened the pouch, he found not coins, but many different kinds of seeds.

"These are seeds from native plants of our kingdom," Ambrose said. "I believe your druids will find them interesting."

Sares did. Most druids enjoyed collecting flora and fauna. Their settlements resembled natural menageries. The Ragetide Kingdom's island ecology differed greatly from the Emerald Dreamwood's forest environment. These seeds were not expensive, but here, they were more valuable than gold.

Before departing, Ambrose had instructed the Ragetide Kingdom to prepare plenty of such small gifts.

Seeing the precious seeds, Sares's expression softened. "What do you wish to know?"

"Shall we sit and talk?" Ambrose suggested.

Though the dark force had vanished, but staying beside a druid for the entire night would certainly be safer.

Sares shut the door to his house and gestured casually. Vines grew from the earth, weaving themselves into the shapes of a table and chairs.

Druidic natural magic was remarkably convenient.

They sat. Ambrose asked, "Alina... ah, this elder, did she live well in the Emerald Dreamwood?"

Sares gave him another odd look. What reason did he have for asking such familiar questions about a druid who lived a few centuries ago? Still, it was no secret. "The details are largely lost to time, but my great-grandmother held considerable prestige in the tribe. Otherwise, I wouldn't remember her name."

In Sares's recollection, Alina Sanda had once served as high elder of the tribe, just one step short of joining the Emerald Council herself. During her tenure, the tribe had clashed with goblins. She had taken the form of an owlbear and crushed dozens of goblin-bears into paste, causing the rest to scatter in terror.

That feat alone ensured her name endured even after three centuries.

As for her life, well, the Emerald Dreamwood was paradise for druids. With no need to worry about food or shelter, she could hardly have been miserable.

"It's a pity that she never married," Sares added.

Ambrose blinked in surprise. "Never? Why?"

"Who knows? An elder druid once proposed to her, but she refused. Some guessed she had met someone she loved during her adventures outside. Others claimed she simply didn't like men, and that the woman often at her side was her true partner. But all that happened too long ago. No one knows the truth now."

"She didn't prefer women," Ambrose said softly.

"How do you know?" Sares narrowed his eyes. "Did your ‘elder' tell you about her? Wait... don't tell me that elder was the man she met while adventuring?"

Ambrose smiled faintly. "Who can say? It's been three hundred years."

Sares studied him. Something about this Stormborn felt off, yet he couldn't pinpoint what. Three centuries had passed. Though Alina Sanda's name remained in tribal records, among all the druids of the Emerald Dreamwood, she was but an ordinary entry in history. Who would dwell on her for three hundred years?

Ambrose's expression remained calm. But deep within his soul, there was a trace of melancholy.

He had never been some pure-hearted youth. Even before transmigrating, he'd had girlfriends. After arriving in this world, he had indulged freely in wine, women, gambling—every vice known to man.

A wandering adventurer putting his life on the line daily lived by one rule: enjoy today and worry about tomorrow when it came.

He had known many fleeting romances, many brief encounters in the night.

Of all those women, few names had endured in his memory. Alina was one such.

And even then, perhaps only the name remained. The details of their time together were blurred beyond recognition. Ambrose couldn't even recall his own age. Three hundred? Four? More? He would need to consult history books to match his memories with recorded events.

Why had they parted?

There had been an argument, certainly, but over what? Unequal distribution of spoils? Clashing values? Or some trivial, forgettable matter?

He had assumed Alina was like so many others, a passing traveler in his long life. He had never imagined she might remain unmarried for his sake.

"Was I truly that charming?" he wondered faintly. A mediocre mage in this world was hardly more than a background extra. Or perhaps he was flattering himself. Maybe after leaving him, she had met another man who left a deeper mark.

The news of an old acquaintance stirred some wistfulness, but only briefly. The past was past. One had to live in the present, even as a lich.

They continued chatting idly. Gradually, Sares lowered his guard.

To the old druid, Ambrose seemed unlike the brash, youthful Stormborn he knew. He lacked the arrogance and recklessness of the young. Instead, he spoke like an elder, someone who had seen much and could draw from wide-ranging experience.

He looked like he was in his forties, but was surely far older.

As Sares dropped his guard, Ambrose finally began to circle toward his true question.

"The name of the Emerald Dreamwood has existed for many years," he said casually. "Most of it I understand. But the ‘dream' part, surely it refers to more than just the Dreamveil Barrier? I've heard rumors that druids possess a ritual related to dreams, though the stories outside are rather... scandalous. They say a group of druids enter a shared dream and engage in unspeakable acts within it..."

Sares flushed with anger. "What nonsense! Who spreads such slander? The ritual is sacred!"

"Who else? The Lyon Empire. To them, all non-humans are evil, and any human who does not worship the Lord of Dawn is a heretic. Druids and cultists might as well be the same. Even our Ragetide Kingdom has been decried for apostasy."

Lyon was, if nothing else, a convenient scapegoat.

Sares immediately felt a sense of shared grievance. Wasn't the Emerald Dreamwood sealed off precisely because of Lyon's expansionism? Those xenophobic zealots had nearly become enemies of the entire continent.

Ambrose pressed on. "Still, you can't blame outsiders entirely. The Emerald Dreamwood is so secluded. People can only speculate. I know nothing about the ritual myself—rumors are all I have."

"Slander!" Sares snapped. "The dream immersion ritual is a sacred rite by which elder druids commune with nature. Each druid enters a different dream. The dreams are not connected."

"If that's so," Ambrose said thoughtfully, "how does anyone know what they experience? Elder Sares, have you undergone the ritual yourself?"

"Of course," Sares replied at once. "Every druid has the opportunity. Within the dream is the blessed vision granted by the Oakfather. There's nothing impure about it."

Ambrose feigned skepticism. "Elder Sares, that sounds like exaggeration. There are so many druids in the Emerald Dreamwood. How could everyone enter? Surely it's reserved for elder druids alone. If you haven't tried it, there's no need to boast."

Sares's old face reddened. "Nonsense! The ritual occurs once every five years and encompasses the entire Emerald Dreamwood. All druids may pray to the Oakfather and enter the blessed dream. If you doubt me, stay two years—I'll show you whether I qualify!"

Two years until the next ritual... The news disappointed Ambrose deeply.

Even if Naomi managed to secure her qualifications by then, he could not possibly remain here that long.

But Sares had said the ritual encompassed the entire Emerald Dreamwood. The Dreamveil Barrier also covered the entire forest, and both induced sleep.

Could there be a connection? A sudden idea formed in Ambrose's mind. He wanted to sleep right here in this forest.