The air in Sagewood buzzed with excitement as townsfolk gathered around the makeshift racecourse. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, and children darted between the legs of adults, laughing and playing. Link and Lucy were among them, familiar with all the other families and children in Sagewood. Though it had only been a few years, the horse race was now an established annual tradition. In fact, it was the highlight of the spring season, and the entire town had turned out for it.

  I stood near the starting line, arms crossed, watching the other participants prepare their horses. Just as Flint had suspected, Leia had convinced me to compete in the race. Unbeknownst to me, she’d signed me up weeks ago.

  My gaze drifted over to Goldie, my trusty mare, who was lazily munching on some grass, utterly unconcerned with the commotion around her. Goldie’s coat, though still glossy, had lost some of its youthful sheen, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She’d been with me through thick and thin, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to push her through the rigors of a race she had no interest in.

  The perk I’d gained at level seven, Livestock Whisperer, had deepened my bond with Goldie more than with any other animal on the farm. Sure, the rest of the animals liked me, but with Goldie, it was different. She wasn’t just a workhorse anymore—she felt like family. Maybe that’s why the idea of entering her in the race didn’t sit right with me.

  The other horses stamped impatiently at the dirt, their anticipatory whinnies vibrating in the air. The track wound its way around a field just outside of Sagewood village, a mile long stretch that was just enough to test both rider and steed. The starting line where I stood was also the finish line, as the track looped in a circle, ensuring the crowd could have a view of the most exciting parts of the race.

  I took a moment to size up the competition: a varied bunch, from energetic young geldings with a spring in their step to sturdy old workhorses, much like my own Goldie.

  There wasn’t much at stake—no grand prize awaited the winner, just the sweet taste of bragging rights at the inn for the next few weeks. But that didn’t dampen the spirit of competition. For the townsfolk and especially the children, this was more than just a race. It was an event, a tradition, a chance to cheer for their favorites and revel in the simple joys of country living. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched the gathered group of children, mine included, arguing over which horse would win. My ears picked up Link’s voice, proudly boasting about Goldie and how he was certain she would take first place. I chuckled at his childlike faith in our old horse, amused by his unwavering belief in her.

  “About time you showed up!” Axel called, bringing me out of my thoughts. He strode up to me and clapped a hand on my shoulder, a broad grin on his face. His horse, a sleek black stallion named Midnight, was already pawing at the ground, itching to get started. Axel, like most of my brothers-in-law, never missed a chance to compete in the race. I looked past him, noticing that many of Leia’s brothers were here with their own horses. After being part of the family for more than five years, I’d earned the favor of almost all of them.

  Most of Leia’s brothers were easygoing—except Magnus. He’d never quite warmed up to me. In fact, for the first few years, he’d made it very clear that he despised me. Only recently had that hatred dulled into something resembling tolerance. We’d built a sort of uneasy respect over time, but the annual horse race had a way of dragging old tensions back into the open. It was like stepping into the past—back when I was the outsider trying to earn my place in the family.

  I suspected he joined the race every year just for the satisfaction of trying to beat me. I spotted him among the other competitors, aggressively tightening the girth on his horse’s saddle, his jaw set with the same stubborn determination I’d come to expect.

  I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Axel. Goldie’s not as young as she used to be, and, well… I’ve never really been a fan of these races.”

  “That’s exactly why you should do it,” Leia chimed in, her eyes sparkling as she approached with a basket of freshly baked rolls. “It’s not about winning, Matt. It’s about having fun, being part of the community. And besides, Goldie looks like she could use a good run. She’s still got plenty of spirit in her.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Goldie was nothing if not spirited, and the mare raised her head from the grass, as if sensing that she was the topic of conversation. She gave a snort, flicking her tail in what I could only interpret as an acceptance of the challenge.

  “See? She wants to race,” Leia said, offering me one of the warm rolls from her basket.

  “Maybe she does,” I admitted, taking the roll and biting into it thoughtfully. The sweet, buttery dough melted on my tongue, and I felt some of my reluctance fading.

  As much as I wanted to head back to the farm, I couldn’t deny the excitement in the air—or the way Goldie’s ears had perked up at the sound of the other horses. Maybe a little fun wouldn’t hurt.

  “All right, all right,” I said, throwing up my hands in mock defeat. “I’ll do it. But don’t blame me if we come in last.”

  Axel let out a cheer, and Leia clapped her hands together. “That’s the spirit, Matt! We’ll be cheering for you.”

  Leading Goldie to the starting line, I felt the crowd’s energy seep into my bones. Townsfolk were shouting encouragements, and a group of children had even started chanting Goldie’s name, led by Link. I couldn’t help but smile as I climbed into the saddle, feeling the familiar comfort of the worn leather.

  The announcer, the town’s oldest crazy person and one of the first people I’d met in Sagewood, Cecil, stepped forward, raising a checkered flag. “Ladies and gentlemen, gather ‘round! It’s time for the annual Sagewood horse race! Riders, take your marks!”

  I took a deep breath, settling into the saddle. I patted Goldie’s neck, feeling the warmth of her coat under my hand. “You ready, girl?” I whispered.

  Goldie snorted, pawing the ground with one hoof, while the other horses whinnied and stamped in anticipation.

  “And they’re off!”

  The flag dropped, and the horses surged forward. I let Goldie set her own pace, not pushing her too hard. To my surprise, she picked up speed quickly, her stride steady and strong. We weren’t leading the pack, but we weren’t trailing either.

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  As we rounded the first corner, a rush of adrenaline hit me. The wind whipped through my hair, and for the first time in a long while, I felt truly free. Free from the demands of daily farm chores and the monotonous routine of hard labor. I glanced to my left, where Axel and Midnight were galloping alongside us. Axel shot me a grin, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

  The townsfolk were cheering wildly as the horses thundered down the middle stretch, and I caught sight of familiar faces in the crowd. Everyone in Sagewood had come out to see the race.

  Goldie seemed to feed off the crowd’s energy, her pace never faltering. A swell of pride for my old equine friend rose in my chest. She was proving everyone wrong, including me.

  As we approached the final stretch, the other horses began to pull ahead. But I didn’t care. I leaned forward, giving Goldie a gentle nudge. “Let’s finish strong, girl.”

  Goldie quickened her pace, her hoofbeats pounding against the hard packed dirt. I leaned forward a tad more, urging her on, the wind whipping through my hair. Just ahead, Magnus was leading the pack, his horse surging toward the finish line with powerful strides. The excitement in the air was palpable, the crowd’s cheers growing louder as we neared the end.

  Suddenly, just as Magnus was about to cross the finish line, a low rumble echoed through the ground. It was subtle at first, almost like distant thunder, but it quickly grew into a violent tremor that shook the earth beneath us. The crowd’s cheers turned into gasps of alarm as the tremor intensified, causing the ground to split and crack right at the finish line. The ground yawned open like a gaping maw, as if poised to swallow the lead riders whole.

  Goldie skidded to a halt, her hooves scrambling for purchase on the shifting earth. The other horses scattered, their riders struggling to control them as the tremor rippled through the field. I barely managed to keep my balance, gripping the reins tightly as Goldie reared up, her eyes wide with fear.

  Magnus’ horse wasn’t so fortunate. The beast tried to correct, tried to veer to the side, but its momentum caused it to stumble into a violent crash which threw Magnus out of the saddle. I watched in horror as the dwarf flew through the air, arms waving wildly as he hit the edge of the newly formed ravine and disappeared inside.

  Whinnies from the horses and the panicked cries of the townsfolk amplified the chaos. Dust swirled up from the finish line, obscuring the path and sending the horses scattering in all directions.

  Without a second thought, I jumped off Goldie and sprinted to the last place I’d seen my brother-in-law, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. The dust was thick, but I pressed forward anyway, my eyes searching the haze for the place where he had fallen.

  A great pit now existed where the finish line had been, which disappeared to unfathomable depths below. Magnus was there, clinging to a jagged rock ledge several feet below the ground, his legs dangling over the side. I fell to my belly and extended my hand. “Magnus, here! Grab my hand!”

  The dwarf looked up, fear and surprise evident in his bushy expression. He reached for me, then slipped, his hand hold giving way, and I had to snag his wrist to prevent him from tumbling into the abyss. Heaving with all my might, I struggled to pull him up, and I felt the strong arms of Axel helping me to clear the ledge.

  “We’ve got you, brother!” he cried. “Hang on tight!”

  With a final grunt, we pulled Magnus to safety, and all three of us got to our feet, breathing heavily in the dust-filled air.

  “Thank you… Matt,” Magnus said shakily. “I owe you one.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I replied, suppressing a cough.

  The gathered townsfolk were now murmuring anxiously among themselves, their earlier excitement replaced by unease. The tremor subsided as quickly as it had begun, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

  I’d lived through a few earthquakes before coming to this world, but none had ever felt like this or left behind such an unusual aftermath. What made it even stranger was that in all my years in Sagewood, I’d never experienced a single tremor. I recalled the oddities during my harvest yesterday—the wild, unruly plants and the unsettling feeling that something was deeply wrong—but I quickly pushed the thought aside. There were more urgent matters at hand.

  I glanced at Leia, who had been watching from the sidelines. Her expression mirrored my own—a mix of confusion and concern. Thankfully, she had both our children safe—Lucy held snugly on her hip, while Link’s hand was firmly clasped in hers. The basket of rolls she’d been carrying earlier was likely abandoned during the chaos, replaced with far more precious cargo.

  I made my way back to Goldie and patted her neck to calm her, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a random natural occurrence. The tremors had felt eerily like the ones I’d experienced in the caves years ago. Could a nature spirit be meddling with the race? But the Cave Spirit wouldn’t do something like this, and I hadn’t seen him in years. I shuddered, remembering how the earth trembled when a great dragon once slept beneath my land. It seemed unlikely that another dragon lurked under Sagewood, and Tyr apparently had been oathbound by Woods to never to return to these lands again. So, what could’ve caused this? The question gnawed at me.

  A few men from the crowd had stepped forward and now surrounded the pit, still giving it a wide berth, but drawing close enough to see inside.

  I gave Goldie’s reins to a nearby stable hand for safekeeping and made my way back to the edge of the pit now that the dust was settling. It gaped like a wound, jagged and unnatural.

  Titus and Rowan joined me, both looking amazed and a little spooked by the sight.

  “We should get everyone away from here, just in case of aftershocks,” I said, my voice steady despite the unease gnawing at me.

  Titus exchanged a glance with Rowan before asking, his voice slow with concern, “What’s an aftershock?”

  Before I could answer, the ground gave a subtle shudder, eliciting shrieks and gasps from the crowd. Everyone retreated a few paces back from the pit. It seemed to pulse like a living thing—hungry and waiting. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of something unseen pressing down on us. “Get the townsfolk away from here.” I said to Titus and Rowan. “I’ll help with the riders.”

  They nodded and hurried off toward the crowd, leaving me to deal with the shaken competitors. I walked briskly toward them, all of whom appeared as spooked as their horses. But thankfully, no one was hurt.

  “I think this year’s winner will be undetermined,” I announced, trying to keep my voice calm. “It’s not safe to ride in these conditions.”

  Magnus, who was a few shades paler than he normally was, tugged on his beard. “I think, considering the circumstances, that title should go to you.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Why me? You were in the lead.”

  Axel furrowed his brow. “Did you hit your head when you fell, brother?”

  Magnus shrugged. “You helped me out of the pit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “And, well… I guess that sportsmanship should count for something.”

  Axel and I exchanged glances. Maybe Magnus did hit his head. His sudden shyness, wanting to just hand me the victory… this was so unlike him. “Let’s just call it a tie,” I said after a moment, reaching out to shake his hand. “Deal?”

  He eyed my hand uncertainly, then shook it before breaking away to look after his horse.

  “I’ll… have Dr. Night take a look at him,” Axel said before going after him. “Just in case.”

  I watched the dwarves depart, then glanced back down at the pit, aware that there was still a risk of aftershocks. One wrong step, one careless moment, and someone could go tumbling down. It was deep—deep enough that a bad fall wouldn’t just mean a few broken bones. No, if someone went in at the wrong angle, they wouldn’t be climbing back out.

  I couldn’t let this massive pit become a permanent landmark in Sagewood. A child, an animal, or worse, one of the sprites might stumble into it, and I’d have to rescue them before anyone from town spotted them. I’d have to come back, myself and some of the other men, and somehow cover it before it caused any more trouble.

  As riders started leading the horses away from the race grounds, the townsfolk were already dispersing, guided by Titus and Rowan. The festive energy that had filled the air just moments ago was replaced by an uneasy silence, broken only by the nervous snorts of the horses and the whispers of the crowd.

  I took a deep breath, glancing back at the pit one last time. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger than a simple farmer could handle.