The soft creak of the rocking chair against the wooden planks of my porch blended with the faint chirp of crickets hidden among the tall grass around my home. Weeks had passed in a haze of rebuilding, each day stitching my farm back together, piece by piece. The barn stood mended, the fields once again seeded, the fences straight and strong.

  We’d even built a new chicken coop—a simple thing, really. But as I hammered the last nail into place, a strange weight settled in my chest. It shouldn’t have been emotional, not compared to everything else. The old chicken coop had been the last remnant of Grandpa Bart’s time on the farm, a stubborn relic that had weathered countless seasons. Losing it felt like losing one more piece of him. And yet, as I stood there, watching the sun cast long shadows over the fresh wood, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t just rebuilding the farm. We were rebuilding ourselves.

  Today had been filled with the mundane slowness of farm life: watering rows of sprouting plants, tending to the animals, and keeping a watchful eye on the children as they darted between the tasks. Hectic, yes—exhausting, even—but each moment had its purpose, its place. This was life now, the steady grind of a day on the farm. It was good to get back to what had once been.

  The farm had calmed down in the evening hours, but tonight that calm felt different, layered with an ache too heavy to dismiss. There was a deep sadness, as vast as the velvety sky overhead, that had settled over me. When things slowed down, my mind always drifted back to what we’d lost that day. Buildings could be repaired, but the loss we’d experienced could never be mended.

  Woods was gone—for good this time, I knew that.

  Yet somehow, I was still in denial. Even though the scene of him sacrificing himself to stop the Goddess replayed fresh in my mind every night, I still couldn’t believe it really happened.

  Leia’s soft steps creaked on the porch as she came outside. “Are you coming to bed soon?” she asked, her voice gentle, warm. But I couldn’t look away from the stars—tonight, they seemed harder and colder, no warmth in their silver light. It was odd for summertime, as this was the time when everything warmed up, but perhaps they too, were mourning the great loss.

  “I’ll be in soon,” I said, my voice hollower than I’d intended. I glanced at her, giving her what I hoped looked like an apologetic smile. She looked radiant tonight, as always, though now there was a soft curve to her belly, just beginning to show beneath her nightdress. A small reminder of the new life on the way, growing steadily as the days passed.

  Leia nodded, a look of understanding in her eyes, and she slipped back inside, leaving me alone with the weight of my thoughts.

  I was excited to meet the new baby. Yet, every now and then, the reality would hit—three kids. Three. Leia and I would be outnumbered. The enormity of it all nearly knocked the air from my lungs, a mountain of responsibility I wasn’t sure I could handle. It was then that I usually stopped thinking about it, and figured it was a problem future Matt would have to deal with.

  My gaze drifted back to the stars, their distant light cold and unyielding, as if they peered back with mirrored sorrow. I let out a slow sigh, feeling the weight of their silent discontent. The truth was, I felt it too—a quiet anger lurking beneath everything, a frustration at how things had unfolded. A festering wound I was trying to ignore.

  So much had changed. And Woods... he should have been here through it all. He could’ve lived another five hundred years, at least. The injustice of it tightened something deep inside me, a reminder of the void his absence had carved into the world. There were countless conversations I’d wanted to have with him these past weeks, questions that had grown like weeds in his absence. I needed his advice, his steadying presence, and a sense of direction. Instead, I’d been stumbling forward, navigating as best I could through the fog, hoping my steps would land somewhere close to where they should.

  In all my years in Sagewood, I’d faced my share of hardship, but nothing had ever felt this heavy. Woods was really gone this time. He’d been a tough mentor to me that first year, and somehow we’d become friends. I’d watched him die right in front of me, and yet the reality of it still hadn’t fully sunk in. It was a grief that settled deep, like a stone in the depths of my soul.

  The stillness stretched on, though I couldn’t say for how long. Slowly, I became aware of a creeping silence—the crickets had gone quiet. The night, once alive with the soothing sounds of the farm, had turned unnervingly quiet. I scanned the darkness, my eyes adjusting to the faint outlines of the buildings and the trees beyond. I felt it—the weight of unseen eyes watching from the shadows.

  The hairs on my arms stood on end. Something was out there.

  With a swift motion, I drew my sword from my bag and stood on the porch, my heart pounding in my chest. Could it be the Harvest Goddess, returning to wreak more havoc under the cover of night? I shuddered at the thought. Sagewood had barely survived her fury the last time—could we survive her destruction in the dark?

  A movement in the shadows caught my eye, and suddenly, a flood of memories crashed over me—deranged monsters lurking just out of sight, a figure pulling me under the river, a being so powerful even the other nature spirits couldn’t beat him. He was a threat to my family, to Sagewood, and to the entire realm. An entity so vile, we’d barely survived every encounter with him: Corruption.

  I rarely used my sixth sense perk these days. With so many people and animals spread across the farm, the constant awareness could quickly become overwhelming. But now, I let that sense activate, casting it into the night. Immediately, the familiar, unsettling darkness hit me—the haunting aura I’d come to recognize as Corruption. There was no mistaking it. He was here.

  I tightened my grip on the sword, my knuckles white as my gaze was fixed on the edge of the shadows. I could sense his magical aura, lurking in the stillness of the night. In a way, this let me see him as clearly as he probably saw me. Corruption had returned, but why now, after all these years?

  My throat went dry, and my heart hammered in my chest. I pushed away the fear, but I knew I couldn’t face him alone. Corruption had successfully killed me last time, and this time... he’d do the same, but not just me. My mind raced, thinking of the sprites inside—exhausted from rebuilding the farm and the village. They wouldn’t be able to help. Not now. Most, if not all of them, were probably sound asleep. Even waking them now wouldn’t make it a fair fight, he was too powerful.

  A cold sweat broke out across my skin as the trees at the edge of the farm trembled, their branches shaking unnaturally. There was no wind to stir them. My pulse quickened, every nerve on edge. I kept my eyes locked on the shifting leaves and braced myself for the worst.

  Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged—a darkness I recognized all too well, a deep, consuming void deeper than the night itself. The shadows bled around it and soaked into the air like ink on paper, thick and tangible.

  But something was different.

  This figure, though draped in the same darkness as the demon I remembered, moved differently. Each step was slower, almost hesitant, a deliberate weight to its form. There was no trace of Corruption’s former erratic menace. His eyes were different too, no longer that unsettling, pale emptiness. I thought I saw traces of color, though they seemed deliberately pointed to the ground, as if he were deliberately avoiding my eyes. I lowered my sword, though only slightly as Corruption lumbered closer. This was not the same Corruption that had orchestrated my death all those years ago.

  I blinked, my sword still held between us, even as confusion and disbelief raced through my mind. Gone was Corruption’s spindly, humanoid form. In its place stood a shadowed figure, larger, more ursine. Familiar—but not in the way that brought terror. No, this being’s form called up memories of someone else entirely. As the beast stepped closer, it raised its head, and in the depths of its shadowed face, a pair of eyes gleamed—one green, one purple. Eyes I recognized.

  “Woods?” I asked in disbelief, my voice barely a whisper. My mind struggled to comprehend what I was seeing.

  This couldn’t be real.

  And yet, there he was, standing before me. I hadn’t noticed the tremor in my hands until I saw the sword shaking between us. Fear still surged through my veins, but now it was tangled with something else—a flicker of desperate hope, fleeting and fragile, something that felt almost too dangerous to hold onto.

  The bear lumbered toward the farmhouse, his movements cautious yet deliberate. It looked exactly like Woods’ animal form, down to the subtle, confident way he carried himself. Could it really be him?

  Suddenly, in a flash of light, the massive shadow creature shifted. A smaller, more familiar figure appeared in the darkness, somehow portraying a smile on his shadowy face.

  “Woods!” I called, my voice catching in my throat as I sprinted toward him, hardly daring to believe what I was seeing. I stopped just short of him, staring at the shadowy figure before me—the sprite I knew so well, yet now something altogether different.

  He stood there, transformed. His whole being was now tinted a deep, inky shade, casting him in hues as dark as midnight. Draped around his shoulders was a cloak unlike anything I’d ever seen, a shifting tapestry of midnight skies, woven with constellations that glimmered and faded as he moved. And yet, beneath that shroud of darkness, I saw traces of the friend I remembered—the same sharp gaze, colorful eyes, and the faint smirk that I’d never thought I’d miss. It was unmistakably Woods, but he carried a new aura now—a power and a mystery—as though the shadows themselves had remade him into something beyond mortal comprehension. My sixth sense perk was unable to differentiate him from the powerful being Corruption, but all the old malice was gone.

  “What... how?” I stammered, the words barely making it past my lips. It felt like I was trapped in a fever dream, the sight of him too surreal. If this was a dream, I was unsure why my subconscious mind would give Woods the same look and aura as Corruption.

  Woods chuckled, the sound so familiar it sent a wave of emotion crashing over me. I felt tears sting my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.

  “I tried to get into sprite heaven,” he began, “but they wouldn’t let me in. Said they talked to a farmer in Sagewood, and he had some pretty damning things to say about my character.” His smirk grew into that familiar smile I thought I’d never see again.

  A raw, relieved laugh bubbled up as I scrubbed at my eyes, trying to hold myself together. “I just told them the truth,” I said. “What was I supposed to do, lie?”

  We both laughed at that, and it felt good.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Woods.”

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  “Yes, well,” he said, glancing down at himself, “a bit different than before, I’m afraid.”

  “What happened to you? I saw you die. With my own eyes.”

  Woods nodded slowly, his expression turning thoughtful. “Yeah, my body did die. But the corruption stone... it’s what made me this way. It brought me back.” He paused, chuckling softly at the absurdity of it all. “In the process, I actually met our old friend, Corruption. Funny thing—that’s not even his real name.”

  I furrowed my brow, thrown by the comment. “What do you mean? He has a different name?”

  Woods nodded again. “Before the Goddess was imprisoned and Corruption took over the world’s magic, his name was Balance.”

  I blinked, the revelation taking a moment to settle. Balance. The name echoed in my mind, and suddenly, things began to click into place. If his name was Balance, it meant he and the Goddess must’ve worked together to maintain the harmony of magic in the realm. But when one of them fell out of sync, the entire system crumbled. It explained so much—why everything had spiraled into chaos when Corruption imprisoned her.

  “Is that what you are now?” I asked Woods quietly, the weight of it settling between us. “Balance?”

  “Sort of,” he replied, almost bashfully, his usual confidence wavering for a moment. “I think it’s my job now, in a way. Much like the nature spirits—who will all be reviving very soon, by the way.”

  I couldn’t help but grin, the weight of everything easing. “Well, that makes you the shortest nature spirit I’ve ever seen.”

  Woods rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me now. Short or not, I’m here to make sure things don’t spiral out of control again.”

  The relief of seeing my friend again washed over me in waves. Woods was here, alive—different, but alive. The weight that had been crushing my chest since his death lifted, replaced by a lightness I hadn’t felt in weeks.

  “So, I take it you’re the reason the land is healing so well?” I asked as I glanced at the healthy crops basking in the moonlight. The sprouts were full and green, but nothing like the twisted overgrown mess I’d dealt with in the springtime. “Everything is growing normally again.”

  Woods shook his head, his shadowy form rippling with the movement. “I’m not the only one that affects the land. But thanks to you, the magic is returning to a baseline.”

  It was true, the farm was now renewed, with only faint traces left of the chaos the Goddess had unleashed. We’d poured ourselves into the repairs, every one of us—me, my family, the sprites, even the townsfolk. Together, we’d reclaimed it from ruin, sweat and determination woven into every post and beam, every tilled row.

  But deep down, I knew it hadn’t been my work alone that brought the magic back to normal. I’d tended to the fields as I always had, but this season... this season was different. The land thrived, each crop growing steadily and measured, as if bound to some quiet magic beyond my understanding. The flora in the forest surrounding Sagewood had regulated as well, no longer threatening the town or the farm. It was as if the plants had realized that true growth takes time, patience and care. And watching the farm now, I wondered if that was the lesson it had tried to teach us all along. That life is meant to be lived slowly. Only with effort and patience do roots grow strong, branches reach upward, and the crops bear fruit worth harvesting.

  I glanced over at Woods, whose gaze wandered anywhere but at me. “You’ve done a fine job restoring the farm,” he said, all the pride of a proud parent in his voice.

  I smiled at him, seeing right through his words.

  Humility. Typical.

  Some things never changed. I knew he’d had more influence over things in his current form than he let on. He was probably the main reason for the drastic, healing shifts that had occurred.

  “Actually,” he said after a moment, “there’s someone else who would like to speak with you.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Someone who has been waiting a long time to meet you properly.”

  The air shifted, carrying the scent of fresh rain and spring flowers. My sixth sense was mentally turned off, but I could still sense the presence of a high magic being behind me. I turned around and found myself face-to-face with the Harvest Goddess. She looked different from when I’d last seen her—calmer, the murderous rage replaced by a serene grace. Her vine-like hair flowed gently in a nonexistent breeze, and her golden skin seemed to glow softly in the darkness.

  “Matthew Miller,” she said, her voice like wind through leaves. “I owe you my gratitude... and my apology.”

  I found myself taking a cautious step back as I remembered the destruction she’d caused, but Woods stepped up beside me, his mere presence reassuring.

  “You freed me from my prison,” she continued, “and though I reacted... poorly, I now understand that you’ve been protecting this land in my absence. You’ve proven yourself a true guardian of nature. For that, I am here to reward you with the perk for achieving level ten and restoring the farm.”

  I raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Woods. He wasn’t looking at me, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—a look that said he’d expected this reaction, maybe even counted on it.

  Then, like ink unfurling across a page, words appeared before me. They glowed faintly in the cool evening light, something I’d grown used to over the years, though I’d never imagined I’d see a message like this one.

  Goddess’ Blessing granted.

  The Harvest Goddess bestows her gratitude upon you for your devotion in restoring the land. With her blessing, the farm shall flourish forever, bearing harvests in abundance. All who dwell here will find their lives lengthened, their joys enriched, and their endeavors successful. The land will remain bound to the Miller family, safeguarded and enduring, under the protection of the Goddess herself.

  Another notification shimmered to life before my eyes, a quest I’d had since the first day I came to Sagewood.

  Quest Complete: Restore the Farm

  Reward: Soul Ring unlocked.

  I squinted at the reward, unsure what it meant. Soul ring? What even was that? Mentally, I pushed away both notifications, turning my attention back to the two ethereal beings.

  “Congratulations, Matt. I always knew you could do it,” Woods said, scrubbing away starry tears from his face.

  The Harvest Goddess inclined her head, a rare softness lighting her gaze. “Indeed, we are forever grateful to you,” she said, and—without hesitation—gracefully bowed before me. Her reverence was striking and humbling, something I didn’t expect from her. Then, she turned to Woods, her usual gravitas returning. “If you’ll excuse us, Woods and I have nature spirits to wake from their long magical hibernations.”

  Woods nodded and met my eyes, giving me one of his rare, warm smiles. “I’ll visit when I can. Don’t tell the others yet. I want to do that in my own way.” He gave a small nod, his eyes shining with gratitude that needed no words.

  “I won’t tell, I promise,” I said, truly meaning it.

  I watched as they turned and walked toward the forest, their figures blending into the dark greens and rich shadows of the trees. They moved with purpose, heading for the river that bordered the northern edge of my farm, their forms soon swallowed by the forest’s quiet embrace.

  I stood there for several minutes, unable to move, my mind struggling to grasp the weight of what had just happened. Woods was back. Woods. Back.

  A disbelieving chuckle escaped me, rough and unsteady. Against all odds, he’d returned. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. This was a secret unlike any other—one that would claw at my every instinct to share. But I’d made a promise, and no matter how impossible it seemed, I intended to keep it.

  Even if it was the hardest secret I’d ever have to bear. Hopefully he told the others soon.

  I summoned my quest log again. I’d completed every quest this world had thrown at me, but I still didn’t understand the final reward.

  Quest Complete: Restore the Farm

  Reward: Soul Ring unlocked.

  Soul ring? I mulled the words over in my mind, trying to grasp what they could possibly mean, but I had little time to dwell on it. A rustling sounded from behind, drawing my attention sharply back to the farmhouse. My first thought was that it must be one of the sprites—or perhaps Leia. But when I saw the figure emerging from the night, every notion I’d had vanished.

  Another ethereal being stepped forward from the shadows. A chill crept down my spine. Silvery and translucent, like mist given form, the figure approached, a ghostly man who seemed to reflect the moon’s light.

  Then I saw his face. Recognition struck, and my legs nearly gave way.

  “Grandpa?”

  He looked exactly as I remembered him from my childhood—tall and broad-shouldered, his weathered face creased with laugh lines. Gone was the gaunt, sickly man I’d last seen in the hospital. This was my grandpa as he’d been in his prime, radiating that familiar warmth and vivaciousness. The figure, unmistakably Grandpa Bart, smiled warmly at me. To my surprise, he wore farm clothes, similar to my own, attire I had never seen him in before. It was clear this wasn’t merely a memory, but the Bartholomew he had become in this world. I rubbed my eyes.

  “It can’t be,” I whispered, rooted to the spot. “Is it really you?”

  He walked toward me with that same easy stride, that same crooked grin I’d inherited. His presence felt impossible yet undeniably real, like a dream you can’t quite shake even after waking.

  My hands trembled. Part of me wanted to run, to dismiss this as exhaustion or imagination. But another part, the part that still missed him fiercely, kept me standing there as he approached with that warm, familiar smile I thought I’d never see again. I blinked hard, rubbing my eyes again, unwilling to trust them. I’d witnessed a lot in this world—strange, impossible things that defied all logic—but this? This felt like a step beyond, like reality itself was bending to grant me one impossible moment. I held my breath as he came closer, my heartbeat faltering, caught somewhere between hope, disbelief and fear.

  He stopped just short of me, his eyes dancing with moonlight. “Yes, Matt. It’s really me.”

  “You’re... alive?”

  Grandpa laughed, a deep, mirthful sound that tugged at my heart. “No. Not in this world, anyway. I’ve been gone a while now, but with the help of that ring,” he pointed to the ring on my right hand, the very one that had brought me here, “I’m able to get a final look at you and the farm I left behind.”

  I blinked, noting how his form seemed faded, as if he were a projection from an old-time movie. The ring’s magic, undoubtedly, was at play. I held up my hand, seeing the blue stone glowing for the first time since the day it had pulled me into this world. It must have been the soul ring that the quest was referring to. I’d never known its name for all these years. I looked back at Grandpa, catching something shining in his eyes as he looked at me. Something unwavering. Pride, maybe?

  “So, tell me, kiddo. What did you learn during your time here in Sagewood?”

  My mind turned inward, searching for the lessons I’d garnered during my time here. I hadn’t been expecting to run into my grandpa, and certainly not to answer this question, but as I stood there, I felt the weight of all I’d learned, the moments that had shaped me. The friendships, the hardships, the quiet victories and failures that had taken place. And so, choosing my words carefully, I took a steady breath, the weight of it all rising up as I spoke.

  “I’ve learned a lot here, Grandpa. More than I ever thought I would. I’ve made friends, tilled fields, and built things with my own hands. But the hardest lesson—the one I think I needed the most—is that it’s not about where you’re planted… it’s how you choose to grow. That’s something I didn’t understand when I lived in Phoenix. But now, it’s become so clear to me. If you put down roots and work hard, trusting in your community, then amazing things can happen. And even though it isn’t always easy… it’s always worth it in the end.”

  Grandpa beamed at me. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and although I couldn’t feel it, my whole body filled with warmth. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  I started, remembering my family asleep in the farmhouse. “Actually, that reminds me. You’re a great-grandpa, now! I’ve got a wife and two kids—one more on the way, actually—due sometime next season. Do you want to meet them?”

  Grandpa gave me a soft smile that was tinged with sadness. “I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of time, Matt. The soul ring only grants me a few fleeting moments with you. A sort of ‘final snapshot’ of the farm.” He blinked, his eyes sparkling. “But I want you to know that I’m so proud of you, Matt. Not just for what you’ve done with the farm and your family, but for the people of Sagewood and the sprites.” His eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile I remembered from his happiest moments. “I’m glad you chose to stay.”

  Emotion welled in my chest, and tears sprang into my eyes. All the hardships I’d faced seemed insignificant compared to the wonderful memories I’d made in this world. What I’d originally viewed as the worst thing to ever happen to me had brought me the greatest happiness and fulfillment I could ask for.

  “I’m glad you sent me here, Grandpa. Thank you.”

  He nodded, his form already dissolving into wisps of light. “Take care of yourself, kiddo. And remember: a farm is more than seeds and soil. It’s about taking care of others. You’re growing character, my boy, not crops.”

  And then he was gone. I was alone, the night’s silence slowly filling back in with the soft chirp of crickets. Somewhere in the barn, a cow let out a low, familiar moo, as if to remind me that despite the wildly magical moments I’d just experienced, normal life was still there for me to enjoy. The farm still needed a farmer.

  I took a steadying breath and stepped back onto the farmhouse porch. Before heading inside, I paused and gazed out over the land, the buildings, the fields, and the winding paths. They were barely shadows in the starlit darkness.

  “If I could do it all again,” I whispered to the night, “I would in a heartbeat.” And I knew, as I said it, that I meant it. Every moment, every struggle—I’d endure it all a hundred times for this sense of belonging, to know my work, my life, had meaning.

  It had all, indeed, been worth it.