Location from The Witcher by Andrzej Sapkowski
An ancient, magically-warded forest ruled by dryads who kill trespassers on sight — one of the last places where the Elder Races hold absolute dominion.
Brokilon does not negotiate. The ancient forest stands like a wall of green darkness at the edge of human civilization, and the dryads who guard it have no interest in diplomacy, trade agreements, or the Northern Kingdoms' concept of land ownership. Magical wards confuse intruders, turning them in circles until exhaustion or arrows find them — the arrows always find them. The air beneath the canopy is thick with moisture and the smell of moss, rotting leaves, and something older, wilder, that makes human visitors' skin prickle with ancestral unease. The Waters of Brokilon can transform human women into dryads or erase their memories entirely, a mercy and a horror depending on perspective. The forest itself seems sentient, its trees shifting imperceptibly to close paths behind travelers. Kings have tried to log Brokilon. Kings have failed, and the forest has swallowed their armies without comment.
Impossibly old trees with trunks wider than houses form a canopy so dense that perpetual twilight reigns below. Silver-green moss covers everything.
Also known as: Brokilon, the Dryad Forest