Woods and I descended into the dimly lit cave depths, more hurriedly than before. The soft glow of the lantern in my hand barely pierced the oppressive darkness, casting long, wavering shadows on the rough stone walls.

  “Do you really think we’ll find anything here?” I asked, my voice a whisper that seemed too loud in the stillness of the cave. The silence was unnerving, especially after the release of the Goddess.

  “We have to,” Woods replied, his tone flat but determined. He kept his gaze straight ahead, focused on the path leading us deeper into the earth. “There’s no other place to look and we’re out of time.”

  The words hit hard, the weight of them sinking in. The Goddess was out there—raging, unstoppable. Last I saw, she was heading straight for Sagewood. Woods had sent the sprites to slow her down and buy us time. But how long would that last? An hour, if we were lucky. Probably less.

  We had to move fast. The stone beneath our feet seemed to tremble with urgency, mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. We needed answers. Now.

  A rattling echoed throughout the cave, the sound small at first, but gradually growing louder as we neared the pedestal where the goddess statue once stood. It was a grating noise, like nails on a chalkboard, and it set my nerves on edge.

  As we approached the pedestal, I noticed how it seemed to react to Woods’ presence. The rattling intensified, the stone vibrating violently as if it was trying to break free from whatever was holding it in place.

  “Why is it doing that?” I asked, eyeing the pedestal warily.

  Woods didn’t answer immediately. He stood before the stone pillar, his expression unreadable as he reached out a hand toward it. It seemed to tremble in response, the rattling growing louder, almost to the point where the noise was unbearable.

  “Maybe it’s reacting to the Goddess being awakened,” Woods finally said. “Or maybe it knows something we don’t.”

  “Like what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the growing unease gnawing at my gut. “What could it possibly know? It’s a rock.”

  Woods shook his head, his gaze fixed on the pedestal. “I don’t know, Matt. But whatever it is, we need to figure it out. This stone... it’s connected to everything—the overabundance of growth magic, the Goddess, all of it.”

  He stepped back from the pedestal, rubbing his temples as if the noise was getting to him. I couldn’t blame him—it felt like the sound was burrowing into my skull, a relentless assault on my senses.

  “Let me take a look,” I suggested, trying to focus on something other than the rattling. “Maybe there’s something only a farmer can see.”

  I moved closer to the stone pedestal, its surface worn and ancient and carved with runes that I couldn’t decipher. I ran my fingers over the markings, my brow furrowed in concentration. There’s something here, I thought, noting how the stone grew warm to my touch. It’s reacting to me, somehow. I placed my whole palm on the pedestal, just under the slots where the nature stones were embedded, and then there was a flash of light. I jumped backward as words appeared, shimmering on its stony surface.

  River Stone, smooth and round, peace within its heart is found.

  Cave Stone, wise and deep, secrets from the earth it keeps.

  Forest Stone, mossy green, whispers in the grove unseen.

  Corruption Stone, black as night, twists the world with threads of blight.

  Four Stones balance nature’s bane, without whom endless chaos reigns.

  A curse requires sacrifice, a courageous heart to pay the price.

  I stood there for several seconds, blinking in confusion. I reread the cryptic poem, still not understanding its meaning.

  “Corruption stone? Why have I never heard about a corruption stone before?” I turned to Woods, looking for some input. “Woods, are you seeing this? What do you think it means?”

  Woods didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he stood there, eyes transfixed on the shimmering text, his expression unreadable.

  “Woods?” I ventured. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded slowly, then approached the pedestal. “I’m fine,” he said quietly. “Matt, there’s something I need to tell you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Five years ago, I fought with Corruption when you were in the Baron’s dungeon. I… killed him. And when I did, he dropped this.” He opened his hand, revealing an empty palm.

  I frowned. “I don’t see—”

  He took another step toward the pedestal, and when he did, his palm glimmered, revealing what looked like a smooth stone made from polished obsidian. When it appeared, a new slot opened up on the pedestal right next to the other nature stones.

  My eyes widened. “Is that… the corruption stone?”

  Woods nodded. “I’m sorry, Matt. I should have told you before. But I was afraid… afraid that my actions caused all this. Corruption was evil, he deserved to die, but… I think that his death caused all this destruction. The unbalanced magic, the Harvest Goddess… everything’s gone wrong because of me.”

  My expression softened. “Woods, you don’t know that.”

  Woods hung his head sadly. “Yes, I do. I was too proud to admit my mistake, and it may have cost us everything. All these years, I should have just been honest with you.”

  A tremor shook the cave, preventing me from responding. When it subsided, I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say.

  Woods turned his gaze to the pedestal. “A sacrifice,” he whispered. “It seems that fate is giving me one last chance to make things right.” He approached the new slot, but before placing the corruption stone, he spared one final glance at me over his shoulder. “Matt, I’m glad that you’re the one who took over the farm. You’ve turned out to be a great farmer—the best I’ve ever known.”

  “Woods, what are you doing?” I asked, concern rising within me. “Let’s just talk about this for a second, figure this out—”

  “There’s no time,” he interrupted. “Take care of the others for me, will you? Especially Clay. Tell them I’m sorry for leaving again without saying goodbye.” With that, he placed the corruption stone and the pedestal emitted a bright flash of light.

  “Woods! No!”

  The light was searing, and I closed my eyes fearing that I may go blind. Even so, I reached for him, searching desperately for the green-hatted spite who had given me so much wisdom and grief over the years. My hands found only air.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  When the light finally faded, Woods was gone. The pedestal, the nature stones—everything—had vanished, leaving behind only a swirling black cloud. It shifted in the dim lantern light. My breath caught as, for the briefest moment, a faint, sprite-sized silhouette stood in its midst. But then it, too, dissolved into the darkness.

  “Woods!” I shouted again.

  But no answer came. I was alone in the cave, the light from my lantern my only companion.

  “Woods?” My voice wavered.

  Silence.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I realized that he wasn’t coming back. Not this time. The minutes stretched, and the tears began rolling down my cheeks.

  The cave rumbled. A deep, guttural groan rose from the earth, and the walls shuddered violently. Pebbles rained from above, bouncing off my shoulders, followed by stones the size of my fists.

  Then came the real collapse.

  I staggered back as a thunderous crack split the air. The entrance—my only way out—caved in, rock and debris crashing down in a deafening avalanche. Dust billowed, choking the lantern light, turning the world into a suffocating swirl of gray.

  I stumbled forward, clawing at the boulders, ignoring the sting of scrapes on my fingers. “Help!” I yelled, hoping someone outside might hear me. But deep down, I knew no one was there.

  Just the settling of stone. Just the crushing silence of a tomb.

  I was trapped. Alone.

  And the cold, bone-deep and merciless, crept in like a specter, whispering that I might never leave this place.

  ***

  Otis leaned back in the old, creaky chair, his weathered hands tapping a steady, impatient rhythm on the armrests. He was here to have a word with Harvey, but the mayor’s office was as quiet as a church on a weekday. The air was thick, heavy with the kind of stillness that always set Otis on edge. His knees ached something fierce—more than usual. They always gave him trouble when a storm was coming, but today, the pain was nearly unbearable, as if they were bracing for something far worse than rain.

  He glanced out the window, frowning at the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. They churned, unnatural, like they were building toward a crescendo. Otis couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing—something big.

  Minutes ticked by, each one slower than the last, but still no sign of Harvey. Otis waited a little longer, the office so quiet it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Harvey wasn’t one to take long lunches, certainly not with a storm like that rolling in. Otis grunted, the sound cutting through the quiet, and heaved himself up from the chair. His knees crackled in protest, every movement a reminder of the years he’d lived through.

  With a heavy sigh, Otis glanced at the mayor’s empty desk one last time. “Where the hell are you, Harvey?” he muttered under his breath, but he already knew the answer. Something was wrong, and this wasn’t just about the weather.

  “Well, ain’t no point in stickin’ round here,” Otis grumbled, turning toward the door. He opened his mouth to air out another complaint—just to hear his voice in the silence—but the words died in his throat the moment he stepped forward. There, in the doorway, a monstrous crocodile stared him down. Its scaly bulk stretched twenty feet long, blocking the exit entirely. Not only did the croc’s girth fill the doorway, but the length of the beast made sure that there was no escape. Thick, leathery skin gleamed dully in the light, and rows of teeth peeked from its closed mouth, which Otis figured could swallow a grown man whole.

  “What in tarnation?” Otis exclaimed, more annoyed than frightened. The croc didn’t budge, didn’t blink either, just laid there, filling the doorway like it owned the place. Sagewood was miles from any body of water, let alone any swamp big enough to hide this scaly beast.

  Otis placed his hands on his hips, squinting at the creature like it was a particularly stubborn piece of furniture in his way. “Now listen here, you overgrown handbag. I got places to be. You think I’m gonna let some misplaced gator stop me?”

  The crocodile stared back, its glassy eyes blinking in an almost human expression of confusion. Almost. Crocodiles were just big lizards with bad attitudes, nothing more. There was no way this beast actually understood him, even if it did slightly dip its head to one side, as if trying to decide if it had heard Otis correctly. Its tail swished behind it, and Otis sighed. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I got a mayor to find and these knees ain’t gonna hold up long. So unless you’re fixin’ to make me part of your lunch, how ‘bout you move aside?”

  The crocodile didn’t budge, but its massive jaws slowly creaked open, revealing rows of jagged teeth. For a moment, Otis braced himself, thinking the reptile was about to snap at him. Instead, the beast’s mouth hung open, almost comically, like it was... surprised?

  Its eyes, cold and reptilian, shifted upward to meet Otis’ gaze. The beast blinked once, then again, as if trying to comprehend the audacity of the old man standing before it. It almost seemed... hurt, like it couldn’t quite believe this grizzled, weather-beaten rancher was scolding it like some unruly child. Was it possible to bully such a massive beast?

  Otis, not one to be outdone by a creature—especially one this ugly—crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Well, are you gonna move, or just sit there with your mouth hangin’ open like a halfwit?”

  The crocodile’s jaws clamped shut with a sharp snap, its eyes narrowing as it fixed a glare on Otis. The corners of its mouth dipped, a slow, deliberate movement—almost as if it understood the insult and took offense. It didn’t lunge, didn’t retreat. Just stared, unmoving, radiating the quiet menace of a creature that could easily bite a man in half and didn’t take kindly to being mocked. Otis grumbled under his breath. “Great. Just my luck. A storm brewin’ outside, and now I’m stuck arguin’ with a reptile bigger and dumber than a barn door.”

  The crocodile stayed put, its green eyes fixed on Otis. The old man huffed, attempting to squeeze past the creature’s bulk. He pushed and shoved, muttering colorful curses under his breath, but the croc remained immovable.

  “I’ve wrestled hogs meaner than you in my sleep,” Otis declared, stepping back to eye his opponent. The crocodile’s tail twitched, but strangely, the beast stayed rather docile, not even snapping at Otis.

  They stood there, locked in a silent standoff. Otis crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. The crocodile still stared at the old, defiant man, it’s eyes narrowed.

  “Fine,” Otis growled. “We’ll see who’s got more patience, you or me.”

  Just then, a figure stepped into view atop the massive crocodile, walking casually on its back. Otis blinked, doing a double take. The newcomer was a small woman, and when she stepped off the crocodile’s back to stand before Otis, she barely reached the height of his knee.

  Otis let out a high-pitched shriek that would’ve put a teakettle to shame and nearly jumped out of his boots.

  “Sweet merciful heavens!” he yelped, clutching his chest. The small woman, no—a sprite, stood there, wide-eyed at his reaction. She wore a white hat, her long brown hair falling in soft waves down her back, but she was trembling—almost as if she were more frightened of Otis than he was of her.

  The sprite woman began gesturing frantically, her hands a blur of motion. Otis squinted, trying to decipher her silent message. She seemed to be pantomiming that there was something bad outside. Something Otis had to avoid.

  “What’s that? I can’t go outside?” he asked, bewildered.

  As if on cue, a deafening crash filled the air. Otis turned to the window, his jaw dropping at the sight of a massive, swirling vortex of green energy tearing down the street. Debris whirled in its wake, the wind howling like a banshee.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Otis muttered, suddenly grateful for the crocodile’s stubbornness. Had he been out there just a moment earlier, he’d either have been swallowed whole by the twister or struck down by the flying debris.

  He glanced at the sprite and the beast, shaking his head. “Reckon I owe you both an apology. Looks like I picked a hell of a day to complain to the mayor about a rainstorm.”

  In a flash of light, the massive crocodile morphed into a sprite, his form shrinking to reveal a figure with curly hair, green eyes, and a bewildered expression. Otis took another cautious step back, more wary now of the sprite than he ever was of the croc.

  “You’re the first human I’ve met who isn’t afraid of my animal form,” the sprite said, sounding almost... offended.

  “Psh. Gators? They’re all bark and no bite. Ain’t nothing to be scared of with ‘em.” Otis waved a dismissive hand. “Maybe if you were somethin’ like a bear, I’d be more inclined to be scared.”

  The sprite blinked, genuinely taken aback. His confusion deepened, but before he could say more, the sprite woman gently placed a hand on his shoulder, as if to calm him or prevent him from doing something rash.

  Otis raised an eyebrow, but before he could voice any of the questions swirling in his head, another loud crash interrupted him. Debris slammed into the window of the mayor’s office, shattering the glass. Wind whipped inside like a furious beast. All three of them backed away from the broken window as the storm raged outside.

  “It’s not safe to go out there right now!” the male sprite called over the roar of the wind. “You’ll have to stay inside.”

  “Yeah, I gathered that,” Otis muttered, staring out at the swirling chaos beyond. The storm was unlike anything he’d seen—unnatural and full of wrath.

  The sprite shot him a look, raising his voice to cut through the noise. “I haven’t met many humans, but you’re probably my least favorite.”

  Otis shrugged, unfazed. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you learn you’re not everyone’s cup of tea.”

  Together, they watched in grim silence as the tornado drew closer, swirling debris in a frenzy, tearing at the edges of town. Otis braced himself, muscles tensing for the impact. But then, just as it seemed the storm would hit, it stilled—like a switch had been flipped. The tornado hung motionless for a heartbeat, then vanished, dissipating into nothing as quickly as it had appeared.

  Otis blinked, then glanced at the pair of sprites. “Well, that was convenient.”