Flat Earth- Excerpt

Blurb

Flat Earth

If the Earth is flat…
What’s on the other side?


Most believe the Earth is round. They’re wrong—it’s something stranger. The Earth is flat. On the other side lies a world of dryads and naiads.
As ancient pacts fracture, rebellious dryads and panicked naiads form an uneasy alliance—one neither side trusts, but the world might depend on.
With the line between good and evil shifting and long-buried secrets stirring, the nymphs are pulled into a storm of forbidden magic and unravelling law. In a world where even nicknames can shatter sacred bonds, the fate of both realms may rest on a girl with mint-green hair and a defiant spark in her soul.

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Chapter 1- Lavendoris

Chapter 1- Lavender

The forest bends and sways, speaking in ciphers none can understand
Rivers curl in spirals, a shimmering blue band.
When the stars meet the sea, two species meet
And keep the tyrant on her bejewelled seat.
A child of two, of water and earth
Flees from the ashes of the hearth.
Two views stand, and two views fall
But both will be needed to answer the darkness's call.
A journey of death, when it meets the other side
Needs a silent sacrifice to seal the tide.
-Bodhinia the Prophet, mouthpiece of the gods, shortly before her untimely death

The fire spreads further, encroaching on territory never touched before. I’ve found evidence of a scheme to fuel an attack. I will contact you again when I know more.
-Banyani the Adventurer, before she mysteriously vanished

I can’t keep lying. I know who it was, and I’ll prove it. You’ll see.
-Junip, before she left the dryads and never returned.



The dryad stands in front of the mirror, fastening a sprig of lavender in her hair. Around her, the trees whisper. This festival will be something to remember. She can feel it. In the trees, the bark, the leaves. A slight shift, a different tune. She whistles a bright tune that sounds like life itself, bending the spring to weave into her plait. Her shiny purple dress shimmers as she spins around her blooming wildflower bush. “Are you nearly ready, Lavendoris?” A dryad calls from a nearby pine. “Almost, Pinera!” Lavendoris calls back in a soft and musical voice. She snaps her fingers, and the lavender lies still, firmly held in place by her mint hair. Lavendoris flounces over to Pinera, her braid bouncing behind her. “We’re going to be late for the Blue Moon Festival!” Pinera scolds, shaking her finger. Lavendoris rolls her eyes and starts whistling a simple tune. The other dryad sighs and joins in. Together, their whistles create a sweet melody, causing the trees to bend towards them. Bushes shrink out of the way, and other dryads sigh as their host trees warp and twist, creating a shadowed tunnel. Together, the green nymphs follow the path, fireflies dancing enchantedly above their heads, tickling their pointy ears. The path twists and turns, slowly leading them away.

A bustling clearing lies at the end of the dirt trail, moonlight turning everything into fine silver. Lavendoris grabs Pinera’s hand and drags her into the midst. They dodge between hundreds of dryads, all dancing and feasting on delicate sugar-spun delicacies. They slowly make their way to the center of the clearing and stop at a particularly fine oak tree. Lavendoris reaches up and delicately knocks three times. Pinera follows suit, knocking four times. Near the top of the oak, a garland-wearing figure pokes their head out from a shadowy hollow. Leaves rustle. Then, light footsteps echo within the trunk. The roots move to reveal a passage, and Lavendoris dives in, followed closely by Pinera. The tree snaps closed behind them. “Nice to see you again,” Lavendoris whispers as she flows out of the tunnel. Pinera exits after her, albeit less gracefully. “Pleasure to see you too, Lavender. And I see you finally brought Pine.” A musical voice mutters, echoing from high above them. Pinera shakes her head at the use of a shortened name. “To shorten a name is to bind it. You know the old laws!” The dark green dryad hisses. A tinkling laugh swirls down from the top of the oak.

Above them, a shimmer of moonlight parts the leaves. A tall dryad with glowing evergreen skin descends in a graceful arc, her eyes gleaming like dew-soaked moss. “Not if it’s done on my orders, it’s not!” A long train woven from oak leaves falls to the ground, sweeping around the dryad. “Princess Sylvarien!” Pine gasps, practically throwing herself onto the ground in front of the nymph. “Rise, child of pine,” Sylvarien laughs, with her voice like rustling leaves. “I do not command such respect. My mother, however-” The delicate dryad trails off, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. Briar clears her throat. “Come. I have something to show you.” Sylvarien floats off, silently crossing the hollow tree. “And Pine? Call me Sylva!”

Lavender laughs at Pine’s stunned face and races after Sylva. Pine hesitates, then follows. As they draw nearer, a firefly globe floats down, revealing a disguised trapdoor. “Illusions.” Lavender whispers, marvelling at how simple the enchantment truly is. Oak stairs creak with every step, bending and warping to create stairs in front of them. Finally, they reach the bottom. Stars shine down, reflecting in the clear spring in front of them. An ancient willow leans over the nymphs, sprinkling them with delicate white flowers. At the far end of the pond, lit by tiny jars of fireflies, lies a beautiful laurel tree. “This is the border between the dryads and the naiads. For millennia, this laurel tree has been untouched, but now…its power is weakening.” Sylva explains. Lavender reaches forward, stroking the surface of the glimmering pond.

“LAVENDER, STOP!” Pinera yells. But Lavender has already touched its surface. The water recoils away from her, drawing the warmth from the hollow, turning the air frigid. She gasps. The water cuts her fingers, burning them, freezing them, like ice threaded with thorns. Something ancient has awoken — and it knows her name. The plants around them instantly wilt, even the lavender in the dryad’s hair. A low rumble disturbs the willow, cracking the grey bark open. “RUN!” Sylva calls, scrambling to open the path again. Lavender hesitates, torn by fear. Eventually, rushes back, helping Pine up, grabbing Sylva’s slender, glowing hand. Shadows burst from the willow, threading towards the three.

The shadows lunge for them, spiral horns growing from their heads, shaping them into creatures from nightmares. The princess mutters an ancient spell, waking the vines draping from the willow. The ivy wraps around their waists, pulling them up, away from Briar and the shadows. As they draw nearer to the festival, the music stops. Screaming echoes across the field, and hundreds of pairs of tiny feet thunder across the grass. The three land at the oak, watching the final nymphs stampede away.

The dryads look around, searching for the source. A couple of leaves fall to the ground; veins braided with rot. A gasp rings across the grass, projecting into the forest. A nymph with pale green skin hobbles into the clearing, a crown of bark topping her head. Bioluminescent moss drapes over her shoulders, supported by twigs to form a cape. A gnarled cane carved from an ancient oak stabs the ground. Small, pink flowers hang from her ears and neck. “Mother?” Sylva gasps. The Queen whips her head up.
“What have you done?”
“I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Lavender squeaks. The Queen glares at the three.
“Come.” She says simply, turning away and walking into the forest. Lavender, Pine, and Sylva scramble to follow her, walking through glades and bushes. Eventually, they reach a huge tree covered in thorns. A door swings open, silently inviting them in. “We’re giving the naiads a visit. And we need you to look powerful.”

“Hold still!” A seafoam green dryad trills, voice coming from behind a huge stack of dresses, shirts, skirts, belts, accessories, hair ties, and who knows what else. She sets down the outfits and brandishes the tape measure. Seconds later, a yellow band is wrapped around my waist. “82 centimeters! Write that down, Magria! Shoulders are 35 centimeters! You got that Aasparkia?”
“Yes, Catalpa!” They say softly, quills flying across their clipboards. Bright pink ink splatters the floor next to them. “Well, what are you doing just standing there? Clean it up!” Catalpa snaps, extracting the tape measure with a satisfied smirk. “Eldre! It’s your time to shine!” A sly grin crosses her face for a split second, then it’s gone, leaving her face just as emotionless as before. The unlikely trio scutters out the door, dodging piles of clothing.
The padding of light feet comes up behind Lavender, the swishing of a gown breaking the delicate silence. Lavender swirls around, and her braid hits her in the face. “Hello, Lavendoris. I am Eldre, your stylist. Let's make you shine.” The lush nymph says. Her calculating eyes twinkle with copper eyeshadow. A thin line of eyeliner slices across her face, making her eyes sharp. Eldre circles Lavender, her gaze piercing, calculating, deciding worth. Her long fingers trail down the mint braid. “A dress, maybe a circlet. Loose hair. Amethysts…”

Hours and hundreds of dresses later, Lavender stands in front of a huge mirror. An egg-shaped amethyst, hugged by a swirling pattern of vines, rests on her forehead. The circlet hugs her neck, trapping a tiny bit of her hair, knotting the smooth locks. A puffy lavender dress drapes off her slim frame, ruffles decorating her shoulders and waist. A pattern of pretty, purple flowers swirls up from her ankles to her neck. Pine steps behind her, wearing a dark green blouse with white, flowery lace. Her short, forest green skirt swishes around her legs as she moves to adjust her flowing bow. A string of emeralds sits above her eyebrows, secured by a gold wire. “Are you guys ready?” Sylva’s head pokes around the doorway, revealing her perfectly waved hair and a polished white opal tiara —the princess strides in, a sleeveless dress rippling up her curvy body. Layers of white, lace, and sparkles settle down as Sylva perches on a plumped velvet ottoman. “So. What are you thinking?” Sylva says, eyes widened in concern.
“I’m thinking…I’m not ready for this.” Lavender sighs, coiling her hair around her finger. Sylva taps her hand lightly. “Don’t do that! You’ll ruin your beautiful hair!” Lavender pauses. “I have an idea! We can explore the castle!” Sylva bounces out of the room. Pine looks torn between following and staying. “Are we allowed?” Lavender shrugs and follows after the royal nymph. Huge tapestries hang from the walls. Forest scenes and rivers. Night skies and meadows. Silhouettes and swords. A tapestry of a battleground catches Lavender's eye. “What’s that about?” She asks. A shadow with branches spreading out, eyes peering from the leaves. Tiny waterfalls melt off the branches. “Oh, some legend.” Sylva waves her hand dismissively. “Something about the child of a naiad and a dryad, yawn, something about a prophecy, boring boring, evil, whatever. You know, the usual.”
“Ladies?” A voice echoes down the hall. The trio turns and spots a nymph draped with a layered dress and apron. “The Queen would like to see you.”

“When we get to the naiads, we have to seem powerful. We need to make it look like you know what you’re doing. Sylvarien, you need to lead. Lavendoris and Pinera, watch her.” Lavender nods. Pinera shrugs. “Yes, mum.”
“Then rest. We leave at dawn.”

Lavender throws herself onto the bed, flicking her hair around her head like a green halo. The circlet digs into her head, but she doesn’t get up. The tapestry from earlier swims behind her eyes. Words knot themselves into a tangle in her mind, buried slightly below the surface, waiting to erupt. Sighing, Lavender gets up, walks to the window, and whips the curtains open. A puff of glitter sparkles in the light of the lacy lamp. Footsteps come from outside the door. “My fault? What do you mean it’s my fault?”
Lavender opens the peephole, and her eyes widen. The Queen stands outside, leaning against the opposite wall, a piece of reed paper in her hand. She curls her hand into a fist and sighs. A couple of seconds later, she whisks away. Lavender closes the peephole, feeling like she has witnessed something private, not meant to be shared. She rips off her circlet and sits on the window seat, surrounded by fluffy throw blankets and plush pillows. She sighs. The stars shift slightly as a cloud passes over, blotting them out for a second. Lavender lights a candle, grabs a book, and begins to read.

She wakes up just before sunrise, her face on her book. She had obviously fallen asleep reading. The candle had burnt out overnight or been extinguished by whoever had fluffed the pillows and dusted the delicate porcelain ornaments that cluttered the tables. The rising sun creates beautiful mosaics of light on the wooden planks. A skinny nymph with gold flecks on her skin knocks on Lavender’s door. “Lavendoris? The Queen has requested you come to the front doors.” Lavender nods gratefully and starts off. “Your hair!”
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Lavender asks, dragging her hands through it self-consciously. “It’s all frizzy and tangled! Here, I’ll restyle it for you.” Lavender lifts her circlet and lets the maid tame her hair and elegantly braid it. “Final touch!” The dryad pulls out a purple bow and ties it at the end. “Thank you.” Lavender says, but the maid had already scuttered off. Lavender lowers her circlet down and makes her way to the front doors. The grey light of dawn spills in through the windows, illuminating the glossy vases and busts. The expensive rugs hug her feet like fluffy moss. Tiny jars shine with small glow worms slowly threading their way around. Lavender dashes down the halls, slipping slightly on the waxed floorboards. Eventually, she reaches the front doors. She wobbly curtsies at the Queen and stumbles. “Stand tall Lavendoris.” The Queen says, tapping her cane on the cobbled path. Pine sits on a large rock at the end of the path while Sylva dances among the fireflies. Tiny cages of glowing silk create a lit path out of the house. The three friends lock hands, and start down the track, towards the rivers, towards the rising sun, towards the uncertain future.

Comments for this chapter

• I would suggest you make the dialogue a bit more natural. I mean, if something is a urgent situation, I doubt someone has time to yell "Lavender, stop!" I would say something beter is "NO!" or "STOP!" or "DON'T!" or something like that. If you want to say lavender, then say something like "Lavender, No!" or something. Also "LAV, STOP!" is good if you want a nickname or something.

  Comment by raob9 on September 05, 2025

  Liked by 0

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Chapter 2- Salmonai

Small, brightly coloured fish dart in the shallows, stirring up mud. A naiad slips among them, indigo hair dancing in the currents. Bright, azure, blue eyes shine on her turquoise complexion. The naiad sighs, launching herself out of the water and landing poised on her toes on the shore. Gathering up her wavy hair from the water, she slides to a nearby building. “Salmonai! There you are!” A naiad calls, waving to the nymph. Salmonai smiles and walks over. “Hey, Oraphne,” She says, smiling. Oraphne bounces over, cornflower freckles flashing. “I’ve been waiting for ages! I had this really good idea for my book; it’s going to be about-” A groan of the river cuts her off. Salmonai gasps.
“Oraphne, stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“To check on the river. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.” She rushes off, skidding around the huge bookshelves, throwing open the glass doors. Trees whisper in the wind, speaking to her, but she doesn’t understand. The river draws in, becoming little more than a trickle, mud turning the usual crystal-clear water brown. The rumble of hundreds of feet rings through the reeds, coming steadily closer. A small hand clasps around her shoulder. Salmonai flinches, whirling around to face whoever touched her. “Oraphne. I told you to stay there!” Salmonai says with a scowl. Oraphne shrugs, flicking her ice blue, wavy hair out of her azure eyes. “I wanted to see. It might give me an idea for my book.”

Leaves rustle as the first dryads burst from the forest. A nymph with mint green hair and violet flecks in her emerald eyes. A delicate bronze circlet rests on her oval head, a huge emerald glittering in the early morning sun. She traces her finger over the delicate swirling pattern. Her mossy cape swishes around her beautiful lavender dress. Two guards, hair pulled up into tight buns, covered in tough bark armour. Three dryads step out behind her. The Queen, the Princess, and a commoner. “Naiads. Get your queen.” Queen Thornveil orders. Salmonai nods respectfully and elbows Oraphne when she turns around. Oraphne quickly nods and runs away. The other naiad chases after her, weaving in between the reed-packed buildings. They race through the cobbled street, dodging around surprised naiads, drawing closer to the huge, stone castle. Waterfalls cascade from its huge towers, sending white spray high up into the air. Oraphne stops at its huge mother-of-pearl gates. Two guards cross their path with their birch and reed spears, olive armour making an impenetrable wall.

“We need a messenger to the queen!” Salmonai gasps, dipping her head. The guards lower their spears and open the gates slightly. A wisp of water weaves in between the gates, forming into a tall naiad. “What message do I have to send on?” She whispers. Oraphne takes her papyrus notebook and rips a page out. Using her nib, she scribbles a quick message. She elaborately folds it and hands it to the messenger. “Thank you,” The messenger whispers. Then, she melts into the ground. The guards snap the gates back shut. Taking that as a dismissal, the naiads run back to the river. The nymphs are still there. A couple of drops of rain fall. The drayads start to flurry around, making a shelter of leaves. Oraphne tugs on her sister’s shoulder. “We should help them.” She says simply. Salmonai sighs and summons a bubble in her hand. She slowly stretches it, bending and pushing it into a bubble large enough to cover both of the naids. She weaves an extension, creating a net over the drayads. The water slowly expands, stopping the rain from hitting the nymphs. A slow applause rings through. Salmonai bites her lip, pulling the water towards her, drying the nymphs. The ball of water morphs into a bird and flies away. Oraphne smiles at Salmonai, clapping her small hands. A huge gust of wind blows through. A willowy naiad steps through, her lily-petal dress swishing around her. Two guards flank her sides, swords raised. “Queen Nerissa!” Salmonai curtsies, waiting to be addressed. Oraphne quickly follows suit. “Raise.” The queen rumbles with her voice like an ocean in a storm. The royal nymph quickly crosses to Queen Thornveil. “What happened?”
“It has risen.”
Queen Nerissa quickly tightens, looking hundreds of years older. She beckons to the guards. “Post a notice in the villages, asking for naiads who would like to share their home with these dryads.

The guards salute and briskly walk away. “We can share!” Oraphne squeaks. Salmonai sighs. Queen Thornveil pauses for a moment. “Could you fit four?” Oraphe nods feverishly, and Salmonai slowly shrugs. “Sure?”
“Very well then. You will be sharing with Pinera, Lavendoris, Briarelle, and my daughter Sylvarien.” The queen lists. Three nymphs step forward.
“What about the fourth one?” Salmonai asks, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Briarelle is my bodyguard, so she went to the castle to meet with your Queen after you left.” The one on the right says, brushing her teal hair off of her evergreen skin. “I am Princess Sylvarien, and this-” she gestures to the dryad with mint-green hair in the middle, “is Lavendoris. And this-” the princess points to the final dryad, the one with the brown hair and serious face, “is Pinera. Oraphne nods again, smiling. Salmonai dips her head. “I am Salmonai, and this is my sister, Oraphne.” The three dryads smile nervously. Salmonai turns to Queen Thornveil. “Should I take them now?” The Queen nods tersely. Grabbing each other's hands, they lead the dryads away.



A small reed cottage sits in a field of aquatic flowers that sway slightly in the breeze. Silver vines rope around the house, holding baskets of flowers and tiny crystals. A waterfall cascades down from the chimney, creating a frothy moat. “Is this your house?” Sylvarien breathes, twirling around. “Yep. Home sweet home.” Salmonai sighs, walking on the water of the moat. The trio of dryads gasp. “Oh. Right.” Salmonai flicks her hand, and a bridge of deep blue water forms. “Don’t worry. You can walk on it.” Lavendoris tries first, stepping lightly onto the arch. It holds up. Beckoning her friends over, the wood nymphs grab hands and run over together. Oraphne quickly follows. The door creaks slightly as it opens, revealing the inside of the house.


A delicate tree grows up the centre, wrapped with light brown stairs. Painstakingly etched words decorate them, slight flourishes sweeping across the subtle imperfections of the wood. A pond grows in its roots, small bioluminescent fishes darting around, fins billowing around them. Trickles of water run from the walls, showing pictures of starry skies and snow-capped mountains. Opals hang from the roof, glinting with the light of the hundreds of jars of shining sea life.Irises trail from the exposed beams lazily, flinging pointy shadows across the reed walls. Two doors offshoot from a brightly lit hallway with a bridge and lanterns. One door was slightly opened, revealing a messy room with parchment scraps and pillows galore. Salmonai opens the door next to it, revealing an airy room with dangling vines and ivy. Lanterns litter the ceiling, meticulously arranged to form mini versions of constellations. “It’s beautiful,” Lavendoris breathes, stepping into the bedroom, slim feet sinking into the moss. Her eyes twinkle in the light, flickering with the flames. If her eyes are the stars, then her diadem is the moon.

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