After my meeting with Otis and Harvey, I’d stopped by Sagewood Nursery to stock up on spring seeds and pick up Link. The season was winding down, and their supply of spring seeds was running low, but at the rate the crops were growing, I knew I wasn’t done with spring planting quite yet. The shelves were already filling with summer varieties—tougher crops built for the heat—but I still had time for a few more harvests before the shift in seasons. So, I placed an order for more springtime varieties, knowing I’d need every last one. Axel scratched his head at my order, flipping through the ledger again as if the numbers would suddenly make sense. “Did you expand your crops fields?” he asked, eyeing me.

  I nodded. “Added a couple more just this week.”

  He didn’t need to know that, technically, I hadn’t lifted a finger to dig the fields. The sprites had done the real work, and if I had to guess, they were probably still out there, putting the finishing touches on the new fields.

  He nodded, obviously impressed. “You’re doing pretty well out there then,” he turned to Link with a warm smile. “You help your dad plant these, okay, kiddo? Gotta learn the family business.”

  Link’s chest puffed out. “Of course.”

  Moments later, I stepped outside the nursery, Link at my side, both of us balancing boxes of spring seeds. They weren’t particularly heavy, but I could tell by the way Link’s arms trembled that he was struggling.

  “Need me to carry that?” I asked.

  He shook his head, determined, too focused on keeping his grip to bother with words.

  I chuckled, shifting my own boxes of seeds to better balance them. If all went well, I could get all these seeds in the ground today and be that much closer to level ten.

  As we waited for Leia and Lucy, my thoughts drifted back to my meeting with Otis and Harvey.

  Their concerns about the magical disturbances in Sagewood echoed my own worries.

  “Daddy, look!” Link tugged at my sleeve, pointing down the street. I followed his gaze to see Leia and Lucy approaching, hand in hand.

  Something about Leia’s expression made me pause. Her brow was furrowed, and she seemed lost in thought. Lucy, on the other hand, was happily sucking on a lollipop, oblivious to the world around here.

  “Hey,” I greeted them, trying to sound casual. “How’d it go at Dr. Night’s?”

  Leia’s eyes met mine briefly before darting away. “Fine,” she said, her voice oddly strained. “Everything’s fine.”

  I nodded, not entirely convinced but not wanting to press the issue in front of the kids. “Well, we got the seeds. Ready to head home?”

  She nodded, giving me a small smile.

  As we all piled into the wagon, an unusual silence fell over us. Link, sensing the mood, stayed quiet, occasionally glancing between Leia and me with curiosity. Lucy hummed contentedly, still focused on her treat.

  The ride home felt longer than usual, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging heavily in the air. I wanted to tell Leia about the meeting with Otis and Harvey, but something held me back. It wasn’t just the presence of the kids—she seemed off. I’d ask her about it later tonight, when everyone was asleep. My mind kept combing over the details Otis and Harvey had shared with me, fitting the pieces together like a puzzle with half the edges missing. The lost supply wagons, the disappearance of the nature spirits, the strange happenings around town—it was all connected to the unbalance of magic. I knew that much. And I knew it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt.

  My throat tightened, my mouth suddenly dry. Was there anything I could do to stop it? Or was I already too late? Had things already spiraled too far, now unfixable by a simple farmer? I tried to shove the thought aside, but it clung to me, a shadow that refused to be shaken.

  As we approached the farm, I caught sight of Woods waiting by the gate. Even from afar, I could tell his expression was grave, reminding me of the larger issues at hand. For a moment, I felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of everything—the magical imbalance, Leia’s strange mood, the responsibilities of the farm and family. How exactly was this all going to work out? What if it didn’t?

  Link tugged at my sleeve, effectively pulling me from my thoughts, his eyes bright with excitement as he looked over at the freshly dug fields. “Can we start planting the new seeds now, Dad?” he asked, practically bouncing with anticipation.

  “Sure buddy,” I said, forcing a smile, “I’ll need all the help I can get.”

  I stopped the wagon in front of the farmhouse and helped Leia and the kids down from the bench.

  As I was unhitching Goldie from the wagon, Woods walked over to me, looking more worn out than usual. His voice was low, almost grumbling as he muttered something about the sprites under his breath. “The new field’s ready for planting,” he said, rubbing his temples as though the day had been longer than expected.

  I nodded, glancing briefly at him, wondering what had happened while we were in town. Whatever it was, I’d hear about it later, most likely from the other sprites. For now, there were other things to focus on. I turned to Leia, catching her attention before she went inside the farmhouse.

  “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” I asked, keeping my voice soft. “I’m probably going to be tied up for the rest of the night.”

  Leia shook her head, her expression unreadable. “No, it’s nothing,” she said, her voice distant. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  With that, she turned and left, without another word, leaving me to wonder what she wasn’t saying.

  ***

  I plunged my shovel into the soil, the rich earth parting easily under the blade. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the small field, and I could feel the pressure of the fleeting daylight hours. Link had given up on helping me hours ago, but I was too determined to quit. I was getting these seeds in the ground by nightfall—no matter what. Time was slipping away, and every moment mattered. The seeds we planted tonight would likely be ready for harvest by morning—this land, warped by magic, now made everything grow at breakneck speed.

  But I was ready for it. After some calculations, I figured I had seeds on hand for five more harvests, all prepped and lined up for the week. By the time we were through those seeds, the new shipment of spring seeds would be here. If the land was determined to turbo-grow these crops, I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. Each harvest would push me closer to reaching level ten, closer to balancing the scales of this magic that was threatening to overwhelm everything.

  I just hoped it would be enough.

  My hands worked methodically, scooping the dirt, turning it over, and creating neat rows for planting. The monotonous motions usually brought me peace, but tonight my mind was scattered. There were so many other major issues clamoring for my attention, each one demanding immediate action.

  Woods stood next to me, his presence a silent sentinel as he watched the forest edge with a wary eye. We’d both lived through the forest attacking us, and while it hadn’t happened since, that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again.

  I broke the silence first, pausing to wipe the sweat from my brow. “I have to send a letter to Melvin. Otis and Harvey want him to come to Sagewood and try to help us with the magic.”

  Woods snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “You really think that wizard can do anything for the balance of magic? All he’ll do is give us all food poisoning again.”

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  A chuckle escaped me as I remembered the last time Melvin visited, and the unfortunate culinary disaster that had ensued. “Yeah, you’d think he’d get better at cooking after all these years,” I admitted, shaking my head at the memory. “But I’m going to send for him anyway. Maybe he’ll have some insight into other things we can do to help.”

  Woods turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised as if a sudden idea had struck him. “Would you consider sending Flint to deliver the letter to Melvin?”

  I furrowed my brows, hefting another shovelful of dirt. “Sure, I guess he could do it. Any particular reason to specifically send Flint?”

  Woods hesitated, his gaze shifting from the forest to me. “Flint’s quick and reliable. Plus, he’s got a knack for navigating through the forest without any trouble. I figure if anyone can get the message to Melvin swiftly and safely, it’s him.”

  I waited a few more seconds for Woods to continue. It was true, Flint had a fast animal form, and he was extremely reliable, but I could tell there was something more that Woods wasn’t telling me. When he didn’t elaborate, I pressed further. “Is there any other reason?”

  Woods sighed—a sound of exasperation mingled with amusement. “Flint’s been bugging me about Fern. He’s so lovesick, it’s starting to drive me crazy.”

  I nodded thoughtfully, planting the seeds into the freshly turned soil, one by one. I noticed as soon as I covered the seeds with dirt, a tiny sprout would poke through. I wasn’t surprised anymore by the fast growth.

  “You’re right,” I said, pulling out a few weeds among the freshly sprouted stems. “Flint’s the best choice. Maybe the journey will clear his head. Though I don’t think he should go alone.”

  “I’ll send Rock as well,” Woods said as he gave a slight nod of approval.

  “When are the other southern sprites coming here? I like Alder, Skye and Finn just fine, but it might be nice to have more sprites around, especially if things get more dangerous.”

  Woods shrugged. “I never know. They show up when they want to. Often at the worst times. I’m sure we’ll see them within the next few weeks.”

  I returned to my task with renewed focus, determined to see this planting through. The sun dipped lower in the sky, and I moved down the row, placing each seed with care, hoping that our efforts—both in the field and with Melvin—would be enough to safeguard Sagewood and our farm from whatever was coming.

  After a few short hours, the sun began to dip behind the distant mountains, leaving Woods and me standing before a fully grown crop field, the plants already towering over him. I raised my arms overhead, stretching out the knots in my back, the ache a familiar reminder of a long day’s work.

  As the evening light bathed the fields in a warm, orange hue, Woods spoke up, his silhouette outlined against the sunset. “Do you think you made significant progress to level ten?”

  I sighed and glanced at the farmhouse, which was now cast in the soft, golden light of dusk.

  All I had to do was focus on the farmhouse for a few seconds, and the farm stats shimmered into existence in my vision, something I’d grown accustomed to over the years. I knew I wouldn’t have missed a level-up notification, but I checked just in case.

  Miller Farm

  Level Nine

  I glanced around the farmhouse, making sure I wasn’t overlooking anything in the prompt. I even tried mentally thinking the words ‘progress’ and ‘experience required to next level,’ but those thoughts didn’t yield any new information.

  “The farm is still at level nine, and there’s no progress bar or anything to show me how close I am.”

  Woods furrowed his brow. “What’s a progress bar?”

  I snorted, a wry smile tugging at my lips.

  “It’s from your video games, isn’t it?” Woods rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

  “Yep,” I chuckled. “Usually, you can see your progress as you level up in video games, but...” I trailed off, the weight of reality settling back in.

  “This is real life,” Woods said flatly, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon where the sun was slowly disappearing.

  “This is real life,” I repeated, the words heavy with exhaustion. “Hopefully I’m close, though.”

  We stood there for a moment, neither of us speaking. The sky was a brilliant canvas of oranges and pinks, and the farm, with all its challenges, was momentarily transformed into a place of serene beauty.

  Woods broke the silence, his voice softer now. “You’ve come a long way, you know. Even without a progress bar.”

  I smiled, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Woods. We’ll get there. One way or another.”

  Woods turned toward the forest, then glanced back at me. “You know, it’s not just your crops that are out of control. Those trees will soon be towering over your house.”

  “That’d be fine, it’ll make the farm nice and cool with all the shade,” I said, feeling the exhaustion settle in. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about the magic or the trees or the unnatural growth anymore. I just wanted to go to sleep.

  Woods cleared his throat. “I get that those trees mean something to you—planting them with Leia and all—but what happens when they grow too tall? If their trunks can’t handle the rapid growth, they might come crashing down. They could flatten your barn, or worse, your house.”

  I sighed, the weight of the season’s chaos pressing on my already sore shoulders. “I’ll try and find time to cut them down.”

  Woods shook his head. “Me and the other sprites can handle it, if you’re all right with that.”

  I turned my gaze to the forest, where the fading sunlight set the trees ablaze with color—leaves that were usually green now glowed gold and amber, their trunks painted with deep shadows. The whole woodland seemed to shimmer, caught in that fleeting moment between day and night, as if the trees themselves were holding onto the last traces of the sun. Leia and I had planted those trees barely six years ago, but now they stood like ancient redwoods, impossibly tall. Woods was right—just like everything else on this land, they’d soon be a danger.

  “Sure,” I said with a shrug. “Just be careful.”

  “Of course,” Woods nodded.

  As the last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon, we turned and walked back toward the farmhouse. The twilight wrapped around us like a comforting blanket, and for a brief moment, the worries of the day seemed to fade into the tranquil onset of the evening. Woods stayed out on the porch like he did most nights, and I went inside to finally rest, my muscles aching. Spring was always the busiest time for a farmer, and an even busier time for a farmer trying to balance magic.

  I walked through the silent farmhouse, each creak of the floorboards making me wince as it echoed through the stillness. I stopped by Link’s room first, finding him fast asleep, his small chest rising and falling in peaceful, unbothered rhythm. Next, I peeked into Lucy’s room, her tiny form nestled under a pile of blankets, completely at ease. Leia was asleep in our room, worn out from the day. She didn’t even stir as I closed the door behind me, cringing at the noise it made. I’d hoped to talk with her before she went to sleep, but it seemed I’d have to find out what was bothering her tomorrow.

  As I quietly got ready for bed, the weight of everything settled heavily on my shoulders. The urgency to level up the farm gnawed at me, a constant reminder that my family’s safety depended on it. The memory of the incident by the river resurfaced, when Reed and I had been attacked and Link was nearly swept away. The terror of that moment felt fresh, and I felt tears sting my eyes, my throat tightening with emotion.

  These three beautiful souls depended on me. I couldn’t fail them. The responsibility felt immense, almost suffocating. Though physically exhausted, I lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with the stakes of our situation. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, sleep claimed me.

  ***

  I woke up early the next morning, my body aching from the previous day’s work. I figured I was the first one up, but as I stepped onto the porch, the sound of bickering caught my attention from the edge of the forest. Curious, I wandered over to see what the fuss was about.

  The sight that greeted me was both amusing and slightly concerning. A group of sprites—Woods, Alder, Skye, Finn, Ivy, Holly, and Reed—were gathered around one of the towering trees, axes in hand. They looked exhausted, and clearly, they’d been up long before I was. Multiple trees had pieces missing from them, but not a single tree had been felled yet.

  “You’re doing it wrong!” Alder snapped at Reed, who was swinging his axe with all the enthusiasm of a sleep-deprived sloth.

  Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, I didn’t realize southern sprites were tree-felling experts. Please, teach me the ways.”

  Ivy jumped in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe if you two actually focused on chopping the tree down instead of bickering with each other, we’d be done by now.”

  “Stay out of this!” Alder and Reed shouted in unison.

  Meanwhile, Holly had shifted into her mountain lion form and was trying to push the tree over with sheer force. “A little help here?” she growled, straining against the unyielding trunk.

  Woods had already shifted into his massive grizzly bear form, lumbering toward the tree with heavy, determined steps. Not one to be outdone by his brother, Finn saw his chance to prove himself. With a quick transformation into his crocodile form, he scrambled awkwardly toward the tree, eager to help. It didn’t take long for him to realize that crocodiles, despite their impressive strength, were utterly useless against towering trees.

  I stood there, torn between laughing and stepping in, watching as they fumbled and bickered their way through the task.

  Suddenly, the tree gave a loud, ominous creak. Silence fell as everyone watched in awe.

  “It’s going!” Ivy shouted, eyes wide.

  “Run!” Holly yelled, already bounding away in her mountain lion form.

  The massive tree came crashing down with a ground-shaking boom, sending leaves and twigs flying in all directions. The dust finally settled, revealing the sprites standing before the single felled tree.

  “Well,” Reed muttered, wiping the dirt from his forehead, “that only took... forever.”

  Alder looked ready to argue but Woods spoke before he could, “One down! Let’s move onto the next one!”

  I scanned the group, noting a few missing sprites. Maple wasn’t there, which wasn’t surprising—she was probably out collecting herbs or ingredients for the day’s meals. Clay wasn’t around either, as he was likely in the chicken coop gathering eggs or, more realistically, still asleep.

  “Where’s Rock and Flint?” I asked, turning to Woods. “Did you send them to Crimsonshores already?”

  Woods nodded, crossing his arms. “I sent them off at first light. I took the liberty of writing the letter to the wizard,” Woods gave me a sidelong glance, “I figured you wouldn’t have time. They’ll be back in a few days, if all goes well.”

  As the sprites moved onto another of the tall trees, I noticed something odd. Tiny green shoots were already sprouting from the stump, stretching upward like they hadn’t missed a beat. I sighed. Just get to level ten, I told myself, then the Goddess can fix everything.