Several days passed, and the sprites were nowhere to be seen. The night my crops had surged with unnatural growth, they’d slipped away while I was putting the kids to bed—and they hadn’t come back. That had been over a week ago. Since then, the farm had felt different. Quieter. Too quiet. The usual rustle of unseen figures darting through the trees, the soft chime of their laughter on the evening breeze—all of it was gone, leaving only an unsettling stillness in their absence. Link and Lucy asked for them every night, their little voices laced with confusion, and each time, Leia and I could only trade uncertain glances. Where had they gone? And more importantly—why had they left?

  Even Maple had vanished from her usual post in the kitchen, leaving Leia and me to fend for ourselves—resulting in meals that could generously be described as “barely edible.” We’d grown far too accustomed to her cooking, and without it, every meal felt like a poor imitation of what it should be. Worse still, I quickly discovered just how picky my kids really were. Without Maple’s magic touch, even their favorite dishes were met with scrunched noses and hesitant pokes of a fork. But more than that, their absence left me to tend the fields alone. The crops had ripened in their absence, faster than I’d anticipated, and I found myself harvesting, turning, and reseeding the soil without their help. Not that they actually helped a lot when it came down to it, as I was trying to do everything myself to gain experience for the farm, but I missed their companionship.

  Morning light spilled over the farm, painting the fields in soft gold as I dug my hands into the freshly turned dirt. Another day, another round of planting. My back ached from days of nonstop labor, each movement a dull reminder of how much the land had demanded from me. The clearing had been the worst of it—not just because of the work, but because something about it felt… wrong.

  The corn hadn’t vanished upon harvest like it was supposed to. Normally, the plants faded away the moment I gathered the yield, but this time, the stalks had remained—tall, brittle husks that refused to wither into inky black dust as every plant had prior to this spring season. I’d had to tear them out by hand, hauling them away like ordinary weeds. It had taken hours.

  Still, the strange, unnatural growth had taught me something. The land wasn’t behaving as it should—just like the sprites. And whatever was happening, I knew they were dealing with it. I just hoped they’d return soon.

  Clearing out the greenhouse alone had been the worst of it. Without Clay’s usual chatter or Holly’s offhanded comments, the work had stretched on in silence. The herbs, untamed by whatever magic had twisted the farm, had started forcing their way through the cracks in the walls, threatening to break apart the very structure meant to contain them. I’d chosen not to replant anything in the greenhouse once it was cleared.

  I exhaled, shaking the tension from my hands. This wasn’t sustainable. Something had to change.

  I was far too comfortable with magic and had relied on it to make my life easier for years. Clearing fields was a drag, and I honestly didn’t know how farmers back on Earth did it. They probably had fancy machines and a lot more manpower than I did.

  The morning had passed in an uneasy quiet, fading seamlessly into a muted afternoon. Even the children, usually tearing through the fields with endless energy, were down for their naps, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The farm felt unusually still, save for the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees. Leia was inside the farmhouse, likely busy preparing dinner or working on her alchemy skills she’d picked up a few years ago during her apprenticeship. I found myself longing to join her, to take a break and share in that quiet moment. But I couldn’t take time away from the fields—not today.

  Spring was always relentless for a farmer, every hour a precious resource. And the setbacks I’d faced recently—unnatural ones, at that—had already stolen more time than I could spare. The fields needed tending, and I couldn’t let the work pile up any further. No matter how much I wanted to step away, the farm wouldn’t wait.

  The seeds I was planting today weren’t ordinary—they were a rare Elvish variety of fast-growing zucchini-like plant, infused with magic to speed up their growth. Supposedly, they’d sprout in a fraction of the time. But as I knelt in the soil, I couldn’t help but wonder if the enchantments on these seeds would even make a difference. The land was already saturated with magic, far more than it should’ve been. Everything was growing faster, too fast, actually.

  I held one of the seeds in my hand, studying it. It was larger than I remembered. Over the years, the seeds had grown bulkier, this one nearly filling half my palm. That wasn’t something I’d paid much attention to before, but now, thinking back, the change was undeniable. A startling difference. The land itself had been changing for some time, quietly, subtly, and I hadn’t noticed just how deep those changes ran until now.

  I examined the bulbous seed for a few more seconds, unsure if I should plant it. After a short time, I unceremoniously dropped it into the hole I’d dug. The reality of the situation was, I didn’t really have to worry about the balance of magic. I let Woods and the nature spirits worry about that kind of thing, and I had to guess that’s what they were all doing right now. My primary concern was gaining more experience so that I could get the farm to level ten. If I didn’t farm, then there wouldn’t be any progress, so at the end of the day, I really didn’t have a choice. In the grand scheme of things, I was just a piece on the board, moving where I had to, while far greater forces played their game. So I let my thoughts drift from the weight of it all, grounding myself in the one thing I could control—the work.

  I moved down the rows, pressing each seed into the soft mounds of earth, making sure every one had its own spot nestled in the loamy soil. The repetition was calming, even as my thoughts tried to go elsewhere. I didn’t let them.

  When I reached the end of the row and straightened up, I glanced back at the field—and froze, though only for a moment.

  The first seeds I’d planted were already sprouting, tiny green shoots piercing the soil like eager fingers reaching for the sky. It was happening again. Days of growth condensed into mere hours. I should have felt shock, maybe even alarm, but after everything I’d witnessed, all I could muster was a quiet sense of resignation.

  So this was farming now.

  I glanced over the fields, wondering if by tomorrow, I’d be harvesting fully grown crops. The thought was almost laughable. It felt like I’d been dropped into one of those mindless farming games where seeds became ripe produce in the blink of an eye. But those games didn’t account for exhaustion, for the sheer labor of tending the land alone. If this unnatural acceleration spread across every field, every plant… I was in trouble.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Matt, we need to talk.” Woods’ voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and urgent. I turned quickly, startled to see him standing there with a somber expression. For once, he wasn’t smirking about catching me off guard. His face was serious, more than I’d ever seen before. If that was even possible.

  “Woods! Where’ve you been?” I glanced past him into the forest, searching for signs of the others. “Where’s everyone else?”

  He hesitated, drawing a breath like he was bracing himself. “I’ll explain, but first… you need to know something.” His voice dropped lower. “The nature spirits in Sagewood are gone. All of them.”

  My eyes widened. “Gone? What do you mean, gone? Where did they go?”

  Woods blinked, taking a few seconds as if to choose his words carefully. “They’re either dead or in some sort of hibernation. I’m… not entirely sure. This happened a little over a week ago.”

  I stared at him, the weight of the news slow to sink in. “Were they... killed?”

  The nature spirits, as far as I knew, couldn’t die naturally. But we’d learned, through a few terrifying encounters with Corruption that they weren’t immortal. My stomach clenched. If something was out there killing spirits, what chance did we have?

  Corruption. Dark thoughts and memories clawed their way into my mind. I glanced at Woods, locking eyes with the one that had turned purple—corrupted. It had been dormant for years, but it was still there. I pushed the thought away, trying to suppress the unease. Woods had been fine for a long time. Still, with the nature spirits gone, Woods might be the most powerful being left in Sagewood.

  Woods cleared his throat, breaking my train of thought. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t think they were killed. At least not by anything I could see.” He paused, his expression darkening, as if debating whether to continue. “I was there when the River Spirit and Forest Spirit vanished. Rock and Ivy were with the Cave Spirit when it happened. They were all within a few hours of each other.”

  I inhaled sharply. The Cave Spirit had been missing for years. Had he returned to Sagewood just to vanish again? What would be the point of that?

  Woods pressed on, not giving me time to fully absorb what he’d just told me.

  “It’s tied to the magic of the land.” He gestured toward the field, where the seeds I’d just planted had already shot up, nearly half a foot tall in mere moments. “The Forest Spirit said it was an overabundance of growth magic.”

  I nodded slowly, trying to keep up. Growth magic, in theory, seemed reasonable, even good pertaining to farming. Why would it harm the nature spirits?

  Woods, as if reading my thoughts, answered this unspoken question. “This magic is… stronger. Far stronger than anything we’ve dealt with before. And I think it’s more dangerous—lethal, even, in high doses. Worse than Corruption ever was.”

  I swallowed hard. When I’d first come to Sagewood, the forest had been riddled with blight, on the verge of being consumed by Corruption. Now, it was the opposite—everything was growing too fast, spiraling out of control. I’d been too focused on keeping up with the harvest to realize it could possibly be a bad thing. I should’ve seen it—this wasn’t growth. This was imbalance. The pendulum had swung too far the other way. And the negative effects had begun.

  Silence stretched between us. Finally, after a few moments, I spoke up. “So, what can we do then?”

  Woods motioned to the field I was currently planting. “I still think the best thing you can be doing is exactly what you’re doing now. Planting. Your crops should still be absorbing the excess magic in the land, even if it is a different kind of magic.” He drew his lips into a tight line. “Although there’s probably so much excess now, that your plants can’t keep up. You could likely have several more harvests this spring and summer, and there would still be too much magic.”

  I sighed. That doesn’t instill a lot of hope, I thought as I looked across the field of sprouts. The plants continued to writhe and expand at an unnatural pace, like watching time-lapse footage of growth unfolding in real-time.

  My gaze drifted across the farm. Despite the upgrades I’d made to the barn and my farmhouse, and the addition of the orchard and greenhouse, there was still a lot of land I wasn’t utilizing. “What if I expanded my crop fields? Or put in some new ones entirely?” I had a stockpile of seeds just waiting to be planted hidden away in the hayloft. I turned back to Woods. “I would need more help though. Are the others coming back anytime soon?” My time was already stretched thin between the crops, my family, and my farm animals. It wouldn’t be possible without the help of the sprites.

  Woods nodded. “I could probably get Reed, Flint, and Rock to help dig a new field or two.” He turned to me, an unreadable expression on his face, “Perhaps adding some more crop fields will be the thing that levels the farm to level ten this season, even if you’re getting help while doing it.”

  I nodded. The farm had been at level nine for years now, and I had the forest stone sitting in my bag that whole time, taking up an inventory slot. It was the last stone that needed to be placed to awaken the Harvest Goddess and was only placeable at level ten.

  Silence hung over us again, but only for a few seconds. “I’ll go get the others—you finish up here. Let’s try to get some more seeds into the ground today,” Woods said before turning and leaving to the forest.

  There was a lot to process between the delicate balance of nature and the passing of the nature spirits, but there was also a farm to take care of. Hopefully, with the help of the sprites, we could slow the terrible things going on until we found a better solution.

  After a few minutes, Reed, Flint, Woods, and Rock returned, each carrying their own sprite-sized shovel. I grabbed mine as well, and we picked a plot of land tucked away from the usual paths.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon turning the untouched soil into a new crop field, working steadily without pause. The earth was soft and easy to till, providing a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. We worked until the sun sank low, casting the sky in hues of soft pink and orange against the fading blue twilight. Even though it was demanding work, I was grateful to have my friends back on the farm. The sprites had been with me since very early on in my Sagewood journey, and I’d missed their company.

  The first stars began to appear when we finally finished digging the field. Even though we hadn’t gotten seeds in the ground like we’d hoped, we’d made significant progress, and all of us were tired and covered in dirt. I trudged to the farmhouse, stripping my work boots off at the door and stepped inside.

  Making sure to stay silent, I crept down the hall, cracking the door to Link’s room open. My heart sank slightly when I saw he was already asleep in his bed, curled up like a burrito in his blankets. Still, I stepped up to his bed, ruffling his curly hair. He stirred slightly, but not enough to wake.

  I moved next to Lucy’s room, easing the door open just enough to peek inside. She was curled beneath her blankets, breathing softly, lost in whatever dreams little girls have. I resisted the urge to ruffle her hair the way I had with Link—she was a light sleeper, and waking her now would mean she’d be up for hours.

  Still, I lingered a moment longer, watching the way the moonlight traced the familiar curve of her face. She looks so much like Leia, I thought as a quiet chuckle rose in my chest. Thank goodness for that.

  Finally, I got to the master bedroom. I opened the door, hoping to see Leia reading a book by candlelight, but my heart sank when I saw she was already asleep. Even though I was disappointed, I couldn’t blame her. She’d been exhausted lately, and I felt like she’d been going to sleep earlier and earlier. She would be thrilled to know the sprites were back on the farm, and hopefully Maple would be back at her cooking in the morning. For all our sakes.

  Thoughts of the conversation I’d had with Woods earlier came rushing back. Nature spirits. The balance of magic. The looming threat I was most likely powerless to quell. Worries began to gnaw at the back of my mind, but I pushed them away. They would still be there in the morning, and Woods and I could work on finding a solution tomorrow as we planted the new field. There was no point in getting worked up about it now.

  Stripping off my dirty work clothes, I crawled into bed next to Leia. She didn’t stir, as she was a heavy sleeper like Link. If only she had passed that onto Lucy.

  I worried that my thoughts would keep me up late into the night, but the exhaustion of the day quickly overpowered any lingering worries I had. Within minutes, I was asleep.