I stood in the farmhouse kitchen, arms crossed, watching out the window as the sprites trickled in from town. Outside, the last traces of sunlight bled into the horizon, staining the sky in deep purples and bruised oranges. Evening. Somehow, it was only evening.

  The contrast unsettled me. Hours ago, we’d been running from a vengeful Goddess, searching desperately for a way to stop her. Now, the house was quiet. In the back bedroom, Leia was settling the children in for the night, singing softly to them as if the world hadn’t nearly ended that same day.

  I’d told her everything the moment I got back. The cave. The corruption stone. Woods. She listened, her face drawn but steady, and we both agreed—the sprites needed to know as soon as they returned to the farm.

  And now, here they were.

  The sprites’ faces were covered in dirt and debris from their time spent in Sagewood. The usual banter filled the air—laughter and casual conversation—but it all felt distant, like I was hearing it through a fog. My chest tightened at the thought of what I’d have to say, of how everything would change once they knew. Putting them through this yet again felt like a cruel joke.

  I glanced over the group, taking stock. Every sprite had made it back except for Finn and Rock, who had both disappeared near the cave. Even Alder, who had spats with Ivy and Reed in the past, was chatting with the others, his gruff voice blending into the warmth of their camaraderie. It struck me how tightly knit they’d all become; how much they relied on one another. I could already see the devastation my words would cause, looming like a tsunami on the horizon, ready to crash down and shatter their world.

  “Where’s Woods?” Holly asked, the direct question cutting me to my core.

  My throat clenched. I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles white, trying to ground myself in the moment. My thoughts were a whirlwind—racing yet frozen at the same time—struggling to find the right words, any words. Seconds stretched into minutes. The chatter faded, replaced by the weight of expectant silence. One by one, they turned toward me, faces full of quiet concern, waiting for the answer I didn’t want to give.

  “He... he didn’t make it.” My words were met with stunned silence. After a few seconds of this, I began stumbling into an explanation. “We were trying to stop the Goddess, and the only way was with the corruption stone... he said he was sorry…” I trailed off, not able to finish.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look up and meet their eyes. Something similar had happened years ago when we thought we’d lost Woods. Back then, it had nearly broken them—broken all of us. But this time, it wasn’t some awful misunderstanding or fleeting nightmare. This time, it was real. He wasn’t coming back.

  I glanced back to the group of gathered sprites. The shock on their faces was enough to keep me going, even as the words stumbled out, clumsy and broken. “He’s… he’s gone. For real this time.” My voice cracked, and I felt tears stinging my eyes. I forced myself to continue, though the truth of it felt like gravel in my throat. “I—I saw him die. Myself.”

  Silence settled between us, heavy as stone. In their faces, I saw hope unraveling, a hope they’d fought so hard to hold onto. Moments passed, stretching on as if they’d never end, until my gaze fell on Maple, tugging at Ivy’s sleeve. She gestured in her silent language, her small hands moving urgently. Ivy turned to me, her brow furrowed.

  “When did it happen?” Ivy asked.

  I hesitated, trying to piece together the chaotic sequence of events in my mind. Trauma blurred everything, making the memories of the day jagged and disjointed. “It was maybe an hour after you all went to Sagewood... maybe a couple of hours?” I shrugged, my shoulders sinking. “It’s hard to pin down. We were trying to find a way to stop the Goddess. I’m not sure how much time passed.”

  The others turned back to Maple, watching as she gestured intently. I glanced at Reed, who looked as numb as I felt. “Reed, what’s she saying?” I asked quietly.

  He sniffed, eyes glistening. “She thinks... the moment the Goddess’s storm disappeared and the time when Woods…” He swallowed hard, voice weighted with grief. “When Woods was lost… she thinks they happened at the same time. Just because of how abrupt it was in town.”

  “Why would that even matter, Maple,” Ivy snapped, bringing both mine and Reed’s attention back to them. Ivy stormed out angrily.

  My eyes drifted to the window, and I was startled to find complete darkness had settled on my farm. It felt like I’d lived several days in one today, yet it had slipped by in the blink of an eye. The weight of it all pressed on my shoulders, making even the act of standing feel exhausting.

  “I should...” My voice came out rough. I cleared my throat. “I need to get some sleep. We all should… somehow.”

  The sprites barely acknowledged me, lost in their pain. Clay stared at the floor, Reed had his arm around Holly who was quietly crying, and Flint just kept shaking his head as if denying reality would change it. I should say something more, offer some comfort, but what words could possibly help? Everything felt hollow, inadequate.

  I trudged to my bedroom, each step heavier than the last. The house was quiet—Leia and the kids must have gone to sleep by now. I slipped inside, careful not to wake them. Leia was curled under the blankets, Link and Lucy snuggled against her. They must have needed the comfort of a shared bed tonight. I carried Lucy to her room, relieved that she stayed asleep as I settled her onto the bed and pulled the covers up. Then I picked up Link, who was heavier than he looked, and couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to go to sleep in one place and wake up somewhere else. As an adult, that had happened to me quite a few times when alcohol was involved—but as a kid, I’d never had a parent carry me back to my room like this.

  Lying in bed, sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again—Woods reaching for the corruption stone, that terrible flash of light, his body crumpling into inky black dust like some common monster. Was it because of the corruption sickness he’d carried all these years? Had this always been how things would end? It felt wrong, a grim fate for a sprite as incredible as Woods.

  The moment played on repeat, torturing me with what-ifs. If I’d been faster, smarter, found another way... the guilt gnawed at my insides. Woods had been there for me countless times, but when it mattered most, I couldn’t save him.

  The moonlight crept across the ceiling as hours ticked by. My mind wouldn’t quiet, wouldn’t let me escape the memory of watching my friend die.

  ***

  I left my bedroom as soon as pink light filtered through the window. I hadn’t slept, and my mind was far more exhausted than my body. I quietly slipped on my work boots and left out the farmhouse door, making sure I closed it silently so as not to wake anyone inside.

  The tornado had scattered debris everywhere—splintered fence posts, broken shingles, branches stripped bare of leaves.

  I walked through the wreckage, occasionally bending to pick up pieces of the life we’d built here. A shattered garden rake. One of Link’s toys, half-buried in the dirt. Then, something bright caught my eye. I moved closer, and there it was—the twisted remnants of the chicken coop’s tin roof, catching the light. I stared at it, words failing to name the emotions that rose within me. That coop had been the last surviving building on the farm from when Grandpa Bart had been here. I’d slept there my first few months, and later, after my house had burned down. It had been the only building left standing after we’d finally driven out the corrupt monsters. Now, it was gone, too. I turned away, tears stinging my eyes as the memories pressed too close.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Matt?” Leia’s soft voice came from behind me. I hadn’t heard her footsteps—I assumed she’d still be asleep. “Are you going to be all right?”

  I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, still clutching the mangled sheet of tin. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just... going to miss this old chicken coop is all.” My voice cracked. Leia wrapped her arms around me as I broke down, my tears falling onto the ruined metal. We both knew it wasn’t about the chicken coop.

  Leia returned to the farmhouse after a while, wanting to be there when the children woke, and I stayed outside, continuing to sift through the debris. A few sprites joined me—most didn’t, and I didn’t blame them. Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure where most of them had gone, or if they were still sleeping in the farmhouse. If any of them had been able to sleep.

  But Flint and Fern came out to help, moving among the wreckage in quiet solidarity. I was grateful for their presence, though we each kept to ourselves, lost in thought. Soon after, Maple and Rock joined us, and a little later, Ivy came too. She pulled Maple aside, murmuring an apology I only caught bits of—something about snapping at her yesterday. Emotions had been high then, every feeling razor-sharp. Today, though, we all seemed like shadows of ourselves, moving through the aftermath with a hollow numbness.

  Skye and Alder joined us later in the afternoon, and Skye pulled me aside, her obvious concern very unlike her.

  “I haven’t been able to find Finn anywhere,” she whispered, wringing her hands. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  I shook my head slowly. “Finn could be halfway to Crimsonshores by now, Skye. There’s no tracking him when he doesn’t want to be found, especially after… losing Woods.”

  She sighed, glancing over the fields, a trace of worry in her eyes.

  Though the farm was still in shambles, I hitched up the wagon in the early hours of the afternoon, checking the straps twice out of habit. Reed climbed up beside me on the driver’s bench, not bothering to hide in the back like the sprites usually did. He looked tired, his blue hat matching the circles under his eyes.

  “You sure about sitting up here?” I glanced at him. “People aren’t exactly used to seeing sprites in the open.”

  Reed blinked, coming out of whatever thoughts had consumed him. “It’ll be fine, Matt.” He waved his hand dismissively, then went right back to staring into space.

  The other sprites piled into the wagon bed, and we set off toward town. Reed’s attitude worried me—the sprites were very careful about keeping a low profile in Sagewood. Only a few select townsfolk even knew of their existence. Years of hiding had become second nature to them. But I was so numb, I let it slide, not realizing the ramifications of the discovery of sprites in Sagewood.

  As we rolled into town, I braced myself for screams or panic. Instead, Titus emerged from his forge, face splitting into a wide grin.

  “Reed! Clay!” He waved energetically. “Perfect timing—we were wondering when you’d all be back.”

  I nearly dropped the reins in shock. Clay poked his head out of the back of my wagon, waving to Titus as we approached. Many of the other sprites did as well, and I was left speechless. It was my understanding that sprites weren’t exactly welcome in populated areas, but clearly, something had changed.

  Harvey stepped out of the inn, nodding at our group. “Ah yes, the sprites. Welcome back, friends,” he said warmly, before turning to me with an odd expression. “Did they come to your farm during the storm? To help keep your family safe, I mean.”

  “Yeah,” I managed, not ready to explain the whole complicated truth. “They did.” It wasn’t technically a lie, as the sprites had been there through all the storms of my life.

  I was also taken aback when the rest of the sprites emerged from the back of my wagon, right out in the daylight. Just a few days ago, every single one of them had been hidden from the town of Sagewood. Now, they stood in full view, and what startled me even more was the way the townsfolk greeted them—warmly, without hesitation. Every single person welcomed them and looked excited they were there.

  After the townsfolk had greeted the sprites, we all set to work, the town akin to my farm in its destruction.

  I leaned against my shovel, watching Clay and Titus work together to clear debris from the Inn’s entrance. The sprite’s small size made him perfect for reaching into tight spaces where broken bits of debris had been wedged.

  “Here, let me help with that.” Titus lifted a heavy beam that Clay struggled with, the muscles he’d gained from years of blacksmithing making quick work of it.

  “Thanks.” Clay’s voice was quieter than usual, lacking his typical mischievous energy. Titus and Clay seemed to be chatting about a metal frame that Titus was making, though I only heard bits and pieces of their conversation.

  Around town, similar scenes played out. Maple helped Martha organize salvaged goods at the general store, while Rock and Flint cleared fallen branches from the inn’s roof. Reed and I were working on clearing rubble from the town square, the cobblestones barely visible beneath the wreckage.

  The acceptance from the townspeople had thrown me off balance—it was like watching a brick wall I’d thought unbreakable just… dissolve. Not being from this world, I’d never fully grasped how deeply fear of magic was embedded in people’s lives, driving them to distrust sprites. But Woods had shared chilling details of the culling with me once—enough to know what a rare, fragile thing this shift really was. And for the first time, I allowed myself a spark of hope, wondering if maybe, just maybe, they were laying the foundations of something new.

  “Never thought I’d see the day,” Reed muttered beside me, echoing my thoughts. “Humans and sprites, working together out in the open.”

  I nodded. “At least something good came from all this.” The words caught in my throat as I thought of Woods, but I forced myself to focus on the present.

  “Cindy actually hugged Ivy earlier,” Reed said, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “Called her ‘dear’ and everything.”

  Across the street, Harvey emerged from the inn with a tray of lemonade, distributing it to sprites and humans alike. The sprites accepted the drinks with subdued thanks, their usual vibrancy dimmed by recent events. Still, they worked steadily alongside the townsfolk.

  “This place has always been special,” I said, watching Ronny teach Holly how to properly stack crates of salvaged goods. “Maybe it was ready for this all along.”

  Reed picked up his own shovel again. “Woods would have loved to see this.”

  We worked in silence after that, his name hanging heavy in the air, even as the town around us seemed to come back to life with restoration and newfound camaraderie.

  ***

  I wiped sweat from my brow, the late spring sun beating down harder than usual. The farm had slowly come back together over the past weeks—new fence posts replaced the splintered ones, fresh timber patched the barn’s roof, and our fields were nearly clear of debris.

  I could hear Renna and Rowan hammering tin sheets onto the new chicken coop I’d commissioned. The flock had already settled into the barn rafters, but somehow, a farm didn’t feel like a farm without a chicken coop standing sturdy by the fields.

  It was certainly something I’d never thought I’d see—the familiar crew of bright-colored hats, my sprite friends, bobbing alongside the dwarves. Reed and Renna had even gotten into a spat a few days ago about the design of the nesting boxes. Now, though, they were side by side, laughing over something I couldn’t quite hear, as if the argument had never happened. Watching that friendship take shape over the past few weeks had been more heartening than I could put into words.

  Today was also a big day on the farm. For the first time since reaching level ten, I was planting a new crop. I approached the task with a mix of anticipation and caution, half-expecting to place the summer melon seeds into the soil and watch them surge to life instantly, as crops had done before.

  But something felt different as I knelt in the warm soil, summer seeds clutched in my hand. The land had changed. The frenzied magical growth that had plagued us was gone, leaving behind an almost eerie stillness. The forest had retreated, the trees no longer encroaching like they once had. That frantic, unchecked spring energy had settled into a lazy, unhurried summer pace.

  “You sure about planting today, Dad?” Link crouched beside me, his small fingers tracing patterns in the dirt.

  “I think it’s time to get some seeds in the ground.” I tried to sound confident, but hesitation crept into my movements as I made the first furrow.

  I hadn’t gotten a farming perk when I’d reached level ten like I had the other levels. When I mentally pulled up the notification, it simply had read:

  Congratulations! Your farm has reached level 10.

  The Harvest Goddess will reward you with your final perk.

  There was no further message, no sign that I’d received any new perk from the Harvest Goddess. Maybe her abrupt disappearance had been the reward? Or perhaps sparing my life—and those I cared about—had been the extent of her favor, though there was no indication that was the perk for reaching level ten. I sighed as I pushed the thoughts aside and refocused on the seeds in my hand.

  Holding my breath, I let the first seeds fall into the soil, bracing myself for them to shoot up instantly, right before my eyes.

  Nothing happened.

  Link peered into the dirt, his eyes narrowing at the small mounds. “They’re not growing.”

  “No.” I sat back on my heels, studying the freshly turned earth where the seeds lay dormant. “No, they’re not.”

  “Is something wrong with them?”

  “No, I don’t think so, Link.”

  I ran my fingers through the soil, feeling its familiar warmth, its ordinary earthiness. No trace remained of the frantic energy that had suffused it just weeks ago. Even though the plants had only grown wildly out of control for a single season, that brief span was likely all Link could recall. Link was too young to remember what it was like for crops to grow naturally—how time and care were needed, how they didn’t just spring up overnight. Now, the ordinary felt strange to him, but to me, it was a profound relief. The land had changed, healed somehow, settling back into itself.

  “Well, I’ll be,” I muttered, a small smile creeping over my face.