Woods, Reed, and Rock followed Maple north to the river. Woods didn’t know what this was about, but the unsettling undercurrent of peculiar events in Sagewood had his stomach tied in permanent knots. Something wasn’t right, it hadn’t been for years now. The magic had shifted since he’d killed Corruption, but he wasn’t sure it was for the better. The forest was overgrown, Matt’s crops were out of control, and the delicate balance of magic still teetered dangerously. Maple stopped near the riverbank, reverting to her sprite form as she slid down the shore hastily toward the rushing water. She stopped just before the river, kneeling in the shiny pebbles. Woods gasped. It wasn’t just the water she knelt beside, but the River Spirit herself.

  Rock and Reed stopped on the riverbank, disturbed looks on both their faces, while Woods cautiously picked his way toward Maple and the nature spirit.

  It was obvious she didn’t have much longer in this realm.

  “What happened?” Woods asked, his voice low. “Did something do this to you?”

  Few beings possessed power greater than a nature spirit. If one was near Sagewood Forest, it meant danger—danger that the sprites could hardly defend against.

  The River Spirit gently shook her head, the motion barely discernible. “The...magic,” she whispered before closing her eyes. “You must find a way to fix it… it’s too strong… it’s grown toxic…” With those final words, her aqueous form, once defined, lost coherence, its liquid essence blurring into the pebbles and returning to the river.

  A stunned quiet settled over the sprites. No one spoke for several solemn moments.

  “Did she die?” Reed’s voice trembled as he broke the silence. “Or do you think there’s a way to bring her back?”

  “I’m not sure, Reed.” Woods stared at the spot where the River Spirit had been just moments before. “But we need to reverse what’s happening as much as we can before anyone else is affected.”

  Maple had begun quietly weeping, and Reed put his arm around her. Even Rock, the burliest of the sprites, looked like he was about to cry, his lip quivering.

  Woods turned back to the small group gathered on the riverbank and cleared his throat. “Reed, take Maple back to the farmhouse. Rock, go find Ivy and begin a search for the Cave Spirit. I will look for the Forest Spirit.” He paused as if to steady himself before continuing. “If the magic is too strong—too toxic—for the nature spirits, I’m worried what’s going to happen to everyone else. We must hurry.”

  Reed nodded, grabbing Maple’s trembling hand as the duo began walking back to the farm. Rock nodded sadly before following them. The Cave Spirit normally resided on the south side of the property, in the rock chasms But no one had seen him in years—not since the cave stone had been placed. He’d muttered something to Matt back then, some cryptic nonsense about going deeper within the chasms, trying to find answers.

  When Matt had told him of their final conversation, Woods hadn’t thought much of it. Spirits were always saying things that didn’t make sense. But now… now, he found himself searching the memory, sifting through it like loose gravel.

  What had the Cave Spirit meant? And why did it feel so important now?

  Woods cast a wary glance toward the forest, unease settling over him like a heavy cloak. The shadows beneath the trees seemed darker than usual, as if something within them watched him back.

  He pushed aside thoughts of the Cave Spirit—there was another nature spirit he needed to check on first. For a fleeting moment, he considered returning to the farm, gathering a few more sprites to join him. But the idea vanished as quickly as it came. He couldn’t risk it. Not with whatever might be lurking out there.

  And even if the others were willing, he couldn’t stomach the thought of them witnessing the death of a nature spirit. The sight of the River Spirit—whether truly gone or simply locked in some deep magical hibernation—was haunting enough. It should have been him who found her, not Maple.

  He’d spent years trying to shield the other sprites from the world’s dangers. And yet, again and again, he failed. No matter how hard he fought to protect them, the horrors always found a way in.

  Silently treading through the dense foliage, Woods strained his hearing and magic sensing abilities, searching for signs of life. The elusive spirit was somewhere amidst the trees, and his magical senses would inevitably lead him to her. A chilling notion crossed his mind—what if she was already gone? He shuddered. As much as he detested the Forest Sprit, without a guardian, the once-tamed trees would devolve into chaos, succumbing to the overabundance of magic. Unbridled and unchecked, their growth had already spiraled out of control. He berated himself for his lapse in vigilance, realizing that he should have checked on the well-being of the nature spirits weeks earlier. Not that there was anything he could do. He was just one sprite, and not even the strongest of them.

  Over the past few years, it had become apparent that the only way to truly heal the land was to bring back the Harvest Goddess. Matt was close. Agonizingly close. But the farm had stalled at level nine. No clear levelling conditions to reach the next stage. No way to track progress. Just an endless grind, day after day, with no sign of when—or if—level ten would finally come.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  After a few more moments of quiet contemplation, Woods’ magical senses picked up an aura to the west. It was weak, but recognizable. He quickly made his way closer to the aura, dread welling up inside him as he drew nearer.

  She sat against a tree in a small grove, her eyes closed. Her skin had grown pale. The rich colors she once embodied had dulled, fading to washed-out tones that made her look frail and sickly. In the flourishing forest, she stood out like a wilting houseplant amid a thriving garden.

  “I was hoping you’d come,” she said weakly.

  Woods stayed quiet. She didn’t seem as close to death as the River Spirit had been when they’d found her, but how much longer did she have?

  “What’s happening? The River Spirit…” Woods trailed off, not knowing how to break the news of the spirit’s passing. They were sisters after all. Was it worth potentially upsetting the Forest Spirit if she too, were at death’s door?

  “I know,” was all the Forest Spirit said. She motioned for Woods to come closer, which he did hesitantly. He kept the spirit at an arm’s distance, as he had for all the time he’d known her.

  It had been years since Woods’ corruption, and despite her many genuine apologies, it was a difficult thing to forgive. The Forest Spirit had played a pivotal role in his short yet destructive bout of madness. People had gotten hurt because of him, and things had happened that could never be reversed.

  Lingering beneath Woods’ composed exterior were vestiges of resentment toward her, grudges that would take decades to let go. However, he tried to conceal these emotions, especially considering her fate—he likely would outlive her at this point, something he never thought possible.

  “Years ago, the forest was sick with corruption magic. Now it appears the forest is growing sick with a different kind of magic. I fear this one may be even more destructive than the decay and blight that plagued Sagewood all those years ago.”

  Woods crossed his arms, fixing the spirit with a perplexed look. “What kind of magic?”

  The Forest Spirit sighed, her breath coming out in a rattle. “Growth magic. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The pendulum had swung too far in the direction of corrupt magic… now it’s overcorrected into growth magic.” The Forest Spirit ran her hand along the bark of the tree she sat up against. She looked as though she was going to try and stand, but decided against it, leaning her head against the trunk. “Any surplus of magic is dangerous, and this magic is lethal to nature spirits. The only hope for the land now is bringing a balance.”

  Woods nodded somberly. This wasn’t a great revelation by any means. He’d known this for years.

  The spirit’s words hung heavy as she continued. “Matt must awaken the Goddess, and soon. I fear the land will become uninhabitable. It may take years for that to happen, but more likely, it’ll only be a few seasons.”

  Woods drew in a sharp breath. That was not enough time.

  Silence hung over the duo for several moments, the only noise was the Forest Spirit’s struggle for breath. Woods remained silent out of respect, though he wondered if he should say any words of comfort.

  “Do you still hate me?” The Forest Spirit lifted her gaze to meet Woods’. Her eyes were weary, shadows of guilt carved into her once smooth face. “For my role in your corruption, that is.”

  Her voice was strained, the weight of whatever was ailing her evident. Before Woods could answer, she descended into a fit of coughing, which gave Woods a few seconds to select his words carefully. He stood silently before the once great nature spirit, the forest around them a silent witness to their conversation. The trees, ancient and knowing, seemed to lean in, as if eager to hear his response.

  Woods’ thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a whirlwind.

  Hate?

  The word hardly captured the depth of his emotions. Her actions had plunged him into a maelstrom of pain and anger, nearly costing him his life—and the lives of his friends. Yet, paradoxically, it was his corruption that had granted him the power to defeat Corruption itself, close the portals on the farm, and end the entity once and for all. The events were a tangled web of causality and consequence, and even though years had passed, it had not been enough time to mend the emotional wounds.

  As the coughing subsided, Woods studied the nature spirit. He would not truly forgive her yet, but now, seeing her like this, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

  He took a deep breath, letting the forest air fill his lungs, grounding him. “Hate is a strong word,” he began, his voice steady. “But no, I don’t hate you. Not anymore.”

  She looked away, her expression pained. “I’m sorry, Woods. Truly, I am.”

  Silence settled between them, the forest holding its breath. Woods felt the weight of her apology, the sincerity in her voice. He knew that forgiveness was a powerful thing, not just for her, but for himself as well.

  “I forgive you,” he said finally, the words surprising even himself. Deep down, he knew she didn’t deserve it, but holding onto the anger would eat him alive. There was a time for anger and a time for letting go. A time to heal. And as Woods looked at the withering spirit, he knew it was time for the latter.

  Her eyes widened, a spark of hope flickering within them. “Thank you, Woods. That means more to me than you know.”

  Woods nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief. The burden of his corruption was still heavy, but somehow, it felt lighter. They stood there for a moment, two souls scarred by the choices of one.

  As the forest began to stir once more, the leaves rustling in a gentle breeze, the Forest Spirit closed her eyes and exhaled a final, ragged breath. She didn’t draw another. Woods stood beside her for a few moments, torn by conflicting emotions. Despite his disdain for the entity, the notion of someone facing death alone weighed heavily on him. He observed with somber eyes as the tree she leaned against gently enveloped her, roots entwining with her frail form, bark and spirit merging. In a matter of moments, it was done, and the spirit was gone.

  Woods took a step back, feeling the profound stillness of the moment. His thoughts were a tumultuous mix of sorrow, dread, and determination to find out what was causing this. Tears pricked his eyes, and he quickly blinked them away. The trees, ancient witnesses to countless lifetimes, seemed to nod in quiet acknowledgment of the scene.

  As he trudged back to the farm, the resolve within him solidified. He would find out what was happening, why the balance of magic was shifting, and what role he had to play in it all.