Yes," she whispered, her voice rustling like dry leaves. "I know why you are here. You seek the Iron King, yes? You wish to find the entrance into his realm?"

"Yes ma'am." He said.

"And your brother. As you are, you will not be able to save him," the Elder told her. "The Iron King waits for you in his lair of steel. He knows you are coming, and you will not be able to stop him. No weapon forged by mortal or fey can harm the Iron King. He fears nothing."

Ash stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully. "Elder," he murmured, "we were told you might know the secret to slaying the Iron King."
The ancient dryad regarded him solemnly. "Yes, young prince," she whispered. "You heard true. There is a way to kill Machina and end his reign. You need a special weapon, one that cannot be forged with tools, something as natural as a flower growing in the sunlight."
Ash leaned forward eagerly. "Where can we find this weapon?"
The Elder Dryad sighed, and seemed to shrink in on herself. "Here," she murmured, looking back at the great oak, her voice tinged with sadness. "The weapon you require is Witchwood, from the heart of the most ancient of trees, as deadly to Machina as iron is to the normal fey. A living wood containing the spirit of nature and the power of the natural earth--a bane to the faeries of progress and technology. Without it, you cannot hope to defeat him and save the human child."
Ash fell silent, his face grim.

Jason fidgeted,unsure of how to respond,his shoulders having already been slumped and so they only lowered still a bit more.

"Jason," Grim murmured from the grass. "Do you know what she is saying? Witchwood is the heart of the Elder's tree. Without it, the oak will die, and so will the dryad connected to it."

"Oh...dang." Jason heard Grim and realized that the situation was two sided now,the taking of the wood wouldn't be just death of the iron King,but also death of the Dryads. He understood that it was cruel to take it,to take the life of those that had been kind to them. He wasn't sure what to do. 'It can't be anything made by mortal or faey....but....dragons can live as long as heck,they can be killed tho.And they aren't human or Faey...but I doubt that would make a difference...darn it!' He tried to think of anything that could help.

"If you do not defeat the Iron King," she said, now speaking to all of them, "we will perish all the same. His influence grows. The stronger he becomes, the more the Nevernever fades. Eventually, we will all wither away and die in a wasteland of logic and science." She turns to Ash, even though she wasn't speaking to him. "The Winter prince can fight for you, I imagine if you can't do it yourself. He smells of blood and sorrow. I will happily grant the Witchwood to him."

Jason,tho he knew it wasn't his realm that had just been granted hope,felt hope leap up in him but he also felt bad for the fact that it would hurt these kind creatures. And he wondered why Ash would smell like sorrow...was something making him sad? Jason felt worried but smothered the churning purple in his freckle scales. He bowed his head respectfully to the elder. "Thank you ma'am." He knew that this withering of this world wasn't part of the death taking play in the dragon realm but he still wouldn't want this place to fade away.

The Elder smiled at Jason, an old, grandmotherly smile, and faded back into her oak. Ash, Grim and a couple of dryads that had joined them stood silently, their expressions somber and grave. A moment later, the Elder reemerged, clutching something in her withered hands--a long, straight stick, so pale it was almost white, with reddish veins running down its length. She stepped to offer it to Jason

Jason looked to her and felt full on guilt. "Ma'am,with all respect,I'm not worthy to hold it. Please,I'm not one of your own of this realm.Please, The Ice Prince is the one that should have possession of it.I'm just a barbaric dragon kid."