>Collaboration done with [@Ms Ravenwinter][@corneredbliss]

[i][b]I am an eye seed of Sylanus planted three centuries ago by Mystra herself into a remnant shaft of Khelben's black staff. My roots sift the forest for those who pose a danger to Waterdeep. I have guarded your friend, waiting to grant the six powers to those worthy, of which each of you have received your due dew.[/b][/i]

The roots trembled beneath the pair.
 
[i][b]Now, you must go. They are coming for me.[/b][/i]

Suddenly, crimson vines, dripping blood, reached out from the quicksand, lunging at the druid and her friend. They blindly grappled with the air, easily missing their targets and telegraphing the disaster that was soon upon them.

Evlynne tumbled aside, one of the sanguine tendrils sweeping just short of her only to thrash at the air in vain. Once grasping her bearings, she squeezed at the arcane crystal dangling from her wrist as she reached out for her companion. Fingers clutched the druid's hide with urgency as Eve's eyes pleaded with her to flee. With a sweep of her hand, focus glowing faintly with magical energy, she forced a projection into being. Floating over, just out of reach of the reddened vines, was a still image of herself in a shocked stance, as if petrified. Only glimpsing back long enough to see the air bend into her image, Evlynne turned away and darted in the opposite direction.

The two of them toppled away from the attack, and just as Yna was regaining her feet to turn back to the action, she felt Eve grab at her. All thoughts of possibly staying and providing support for the Tree-being fled the druid's mind at the sight of those pleading eyes. It was probably more than capable of fending for itself, right? Feeling a touch guilty, but knowing where her responsibility really lay, she gripped Evlynne's hand tightly in her own and barreled away from the illusion of the mage, leading her the safest way through the trees that her eyes found in their hurry.

The eyes communicated, reaching to their minds and providing confidence of their flight. The scarlet whips soon multiplied in number and effort. Their thorns growing and piercing the bark of the Tree, slowly slaughtering the sage with the death of a million paper cuts. 

[i][b]Run, daughters. Flee![/b][/i]