I dropped the last seed into the final mound of the small field. It was warm, warmer than it had been in a long time. I stood with my face toward the afternoon sun, looking over the freshly planted field with a sense of satisfaction. It was the second day of spring, which meant it was the beginning of planting season.
The soil in the fields was incredibly fertile, boasting a lush, loamy texture. Enriched by the remnants of the forest fire from the previous fall, the dirt was dark and nutrient dense. Any seeds sown right now would be of excellent quality, maybe even higher.
Planting the small field had taken only a few hours, but I still had the large field to plant, and the square of dirt by my farmhouse to cultivate. My plans were to make it into a small orchard of applepeach trees.
Breathing deeply, I let the small accomplishment wash over me. There was lots more to do, but I could still stop and savor this moment.
The work ahead was daunting, but I was determined to see it through. My gaze moved from the small field, past the large field to the dirt patch next to my farmhouse. It would take weeks, if not an entire season, to cultivate it into a thriving orchard. But the satisfaction of watching those trees grow and bear fruit would be worth every blistered hand and aching muscle. At least, that’s what I told myself. Turning back to the newly planted field, I focused on one of the mounds.
Rainbow Roots
Days to harvest: 50
The bag of seeds I’d just planted had a picture of the root vegetable that would grow, and to me, it bore a striking resemblance to the humble carrot I remembered from Earth—but in many different, jewel-toned colors. I was excited to see how they would appear in real life, and was even more excited to taste them. It had been a long time since I’d worked the land with my hands and getting back to actual farming felt good.
I leaned against the fencepost and surveyed the changing landscape, taking in the rolling hills that surrounded my farm. The landscape right now was a blend of different shades of gray, but in the coming days, the hills would turn a lush green dotted with wildflowers. In the distance, I could see the silhouette of the mountains, their jagged white peaks piercing the clear blue sky.
My farm was a humble collection of buildings, with a large red barn dominating the center of the property. The farmhouse, a small but well-built structure with a wrap-around porch, sat off to the eastern side of my property, next to the dirt road that led into the small village of Sagewood. The chicken coop was next to the farmhouse, the only building on my property that wasn’t new. It had scratch marks along the walls, and three punctures in the dented tin roof, but it still stood, a flock of chickens clucking within.
“You know, I can’t believe my brother left the beach lifestyle to come live here, of all places,” Finn said, interrupting my thoughts and looking bored as he scraped some mud off his boots with a stick. Finn was the newest sprite that lived on my farm. He was from Crimsonshores and was still getting used to country living. I was surprised that he hadn’t switched back to his usual sandals when the weather started getting warmer, but with how muddy spring had been, I didn’t blame him for sticking with boots. Finn, unlike his twin brother Woods, didn’t take any interest in farming, planting, or hard work of any kind. “There’s nothing to do here.” He laid back in the patchy grass and propped his hands behind his head.
I chuckled to myself. There was actually a lot to do, especially with the arrival of the planting season, but Finn wasn’t used to farm life yet. I smiled. “Give it some time, Finn. You might be surprised at how much you end up enjoying the countryside.”
Finn snorted dryly.
“Rock,” another sprite chimed in. Rock was the tallest sprite on my farm, though he still only came up to my knee. Coincidentally, Rock was the only word he knew how to say. “Rock,” he added with a note of finality.
Clay, the other sprite present, nodded in agreement with whatever Rock had said. “I don’t think I’d be brave enough to swim in the ocean with all the sea monsters either. But I’d still like to visit someday.” Clay was the youngest sprite that lived on my farm. He was only a few years older than me, but because of how long sprite lifespans were, he acted much younger.
“Sea monsters aren’t what you have to watch out for,” Finn remarked. “It’s the jellyfish. Try getting stung by one of those while you’re out swimming. Not fun. And the treatment for getting rid of their sting is even less fun.”
Clay’s eyes widened. “How do you get rid of a jellyfish sting?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Finn yawned, then gave me a flat look. “Can we take a break?”
I glanced over at the large field. The task of planting loomed over me. After a moment, I turned my gaze back to Finn, who hadn’t lifted a finger that whole morning, and focused on the sprite, taking note that his name wasn’t actually Finn, as he’d told us.
Finnigan
Sprite
I chuckled.
“What?” Finn asked, suddenly defensive.
I shrugged. “I’ve just never noticed your full name before. It’s different from other sprite names.”
Clay and Rock turned to Finn, their eyebrows raised.
The perk I’d gained when the farm reached level four allowed me to sense magic and read the full given names of anyone who entered my farm. Usually, my perk didn’t reveal any further information, but it was always interesting when it did.
Finn sighed and turned toward the farmhouse. “I’m going to go see what Maple is up to. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“Bye, Finnigan,” I said, keeping my voice even.
Finn turned back, shooting me an annoyed look as Rock and Clay snickered. Without another word walked over to the farmhouse.
“Rock,” Rock said. Then he, too, departed, heading toward the forest. I watched him go, only guessing at what he’d said.
That left only me and Clay, and I turned to regard the smallest sprite. I lingered on his bandaged limb for a split second, my heart sinking. As the days passed, it was becoming more apparent that the limb wasn’t going to grow back, and he’d be crippled the rest of his life. This also meant his animal form, an owl, would be rendered useless as he couldn’t fly without a wing.
Despite this, Clay beamed up at me. “I don’t need a break. I’ll still stay with you, Matt.”
I smiled. His resilience and determination warmed my heart. Clay had been through so much these past few seasons, yet he remained optimistic, despite being the smallest, most traumatized, and now the weakest of the sprites.
Clay and I moved on to the large field, and I got out another linen bag of spring seeds. These were labeled ‘blue radishes’.
I knelt in the loamy dirt and placed the first seed in the mound I’d shaped the day before, making sure the seed was deep enough that it wouldn’t get scorched as the days grew hotter. I focused on the planted seed, reading the prompts that appeared in front of me as I did so.
Blue Radish Plant
Days to harvest: 40
Clay watched me intently, as if farming was the most important task in the world. I moved to the next carefully measured and shaped mound and deliberately placed the next seed.
The sun hung above us, casting its golden glow over the whole farm, the property brimming with potential. A cool breeze blew down from the north, causing the trees in the forest to rustle.
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After a half hour or so, four rows were completed. I sat down next to Clay and adjusted my straw hat. I would need to saturate the dirt to keep the seeds from becoming parched—something I’d forgotten to do before planting. Fortunately, spring was more forgiving than summer, and I quickly glanced up at the sun. It was still so early in the season, and only became mildly warm around noon. It was significantly cooler in the mornings and evenings.
“Matt, is Woods ever going to get better?” Clay asked, pulling me from my musings.
I thought about the corrupted sprite, imprisoned south of my farm. My eyes flicked to Clay’s bandaged arm, then to his amber eyes. Woods had been the one to inflict the crippling wound on Clay, but the smallest sprite still asked about him every day, and when he would get better. Today, his question was worded differently. It wasn’t a ‘when’ question. It seemed the sprite was catching on to the reality of what was actually happening south of the farm.
Woods was dying. Every day he’d grown weaker to the point where now, he could barely stand. His addled mind had succumbed to his weakened body, and he spent most of the time sleeping in the shade of his tree prison. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. Between the nature spirits and my own ministrations, we’d tried everything we could. At this point, we were out of options and growing increasingly short on time. Still, I wasn’t about to tell that to Clay.
“He’s getting better… it’s just taking a little longer than we thought. Don’t worry, Clay.” I mustered up what I hoped looked like a smile.
Clay nodded, seeming satisfied.
A knot formed in my stomach from the lie.
The only ones on the farm that knew what was happening were Finn and myself, as we’d kept it hidden from the other sprites. I dreaded the coming days, wondering when we would have to gather them all together with the terrible news that their friend and beloved leader had died. They’d already been told this once before, only to have something worse happen: corruption sickness that only prolonged everyone’s suffering. Shaking myself from these thoughts, I stood and turned back to the task at hand.
Mindlessly, I dropped another seed into the small crater I’d dug into one of the dirt mounds, and a notification flashed in front of my eyes, surprising me.
Level up!
Congratulations! Your farm has reached level 5.
You have been given the farming perk: Green Thumb. Your crops grow twice as fast.
I felt my eyebrows climb my forehead as the words disappeared, shimmering out of existence as quickly as they’d appeared. I focused again on the seed I’d just put into the ground, shocked when I saw that it was now a good-sized sprout poking out of the dirt.
Blue Radish Plant
Days to harvest: 20
“Shoot, I really need to water these now.”
Clay blinked, squinting at the new plant. “How’d you do that?”
I shrugged. “Magic, I guess.” Then, I shot him a smile. “And the farm just levelled up.”
Clay’s mouth dropped open. “No way! That’s great, Matt!”
Level five brought an amazing new perk. Instead of two crop harvests during the spring season, I could squeeze in a third. That’s going to come in handy, I thought to myself. More crops means more income. And more income means I can upgrade my farm… maybe even get some animals.
I quickly got the rest of the seeds into the ground. As soon as I covered each planted seed with dirt, a vibrant green sprout instantly sprung up from the soil. A couple more hours passed as I made trips to the well, making sure each new sprout got a big drink of water.
I moved on to the other field—the one planted with rainbow roots—and noted that their growth time had been halved as well, going from fifty days to twenty-five.
The sun was beginning to sink in the sky, an announcement that the day’s chores were winding down and it would soon be evening. Maple, the resident sprite chef, would be done making dinner soon, and I felt my stomach grumble expectantly. I’d worked though lunch to get all the seeds planted and watered, but come harvest time, it was going to be worth it. The sweat and toil invested would, in time, be repaid as the fields transformed into a sea of green stems and ripe crops. Thanks to my new farming perk, I could now expect that time to arrive even sooner.
“What do you say we take a break, Clay? We can go to the chicken coop and collect the eggs.”
Clay nodded eagerly, and I followed him to the coop. From outside, we could hear the chickens clucking and squawking, meaning there was already someone inside.
Reed, the second oldest sprite and the default leader of the group, already had a basketful of eggs. He greeted Clay and I as he pulled his sandy-blond hair back into its usual man-bun style—something he’d been doing ever since we’d visited Crimsonshores back in fall.
“How’s planting going?” he asked.
“The fields are both sown, and the farm levelled up!” I squared my shoulders a bit as I said the words. It was only the second day of spring, and I’d accomplished so much already.
Reed smiled and handed me the egg basket. “That’s great! You’re halfway there, then.”
I nodded. Long before Woods had been corrupted, he’d made me promise to level the farm to at least level ten, in hopes that the high level would balance out the ever-shifting magic levels of the land. The plan had always been for me to level the farm and then return to my home back on Earth.
The idea of making this farm my permanent home had once been an appealing thought, something I’d readily admitted to myself. That is… until Leia had left. I swallowed hard as my thoughts turned to the elf. She’d left last season. Abruptly.
Still, when my thoughts turned to my original home in Phoenix, they stirred no emotions within me. No nostalgia for the things I’d given up, no longing to return to my old life. Except maybe video games. And cheeseburgers.
I sighed. Even if I did entertain the idea of returning to Pheonix someday, I didn’t have everything I needed for the traveler’s spell. And, as my time in Sagewood had taught me, a great deal could change in the blink of an eye.
Reed spoke up again, bringing me out of my thoughts. “You know, I don’t think your grandpa ever levelled the farm past level five or six. I can’t remember which one he got to. He was here for a few years too, so it’s amazing you’ve managed to do it so quickly.”
"What can I say,” I said with a slight shrug. “I’m just that awesome.”
Reed blinked at me, but Clay was grinning from ear to ear. “You got that right,” he said. “Matt Miller… the best farmer ever!”
With eggs in hand, we set about the task of sprinkling chicken feed and refilling their water bucket. The birds happily pecked at the ground as we worked. Reed left a moment later, and I found myself reminiscing once again. “It’s coming up on my anniversary soon,” I mumbled, my thumb rubbing absently at the ring magically fused to my finger. “Almost a full year living on this farm.”
“What day did you get here?” Clay asked. “Do you remember?”
“I don’t,” I replied. “The nineteenth or the twentieth, maybe? I’m not sure. I do remember being here for Woods’ birthday, though.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.
Clay’s expression fell. “Spring, day sixty,” he whispered. “That’s Woods’ and Finn’s birthday.”
I swallowed hard, kicking myself for being so insensitive. Idiot, I thought. Change the subject. Fast.
“Hey, Clay,” I said, and the smallest sprite met my eyes. “What do you say we play a prank on Holly? She’s been slipping rocks into my boots every morning, so I think she’s well overdue for a friendly reminder of who’s in charge around here.”
Clay’s eyes sparkled with intrigue for a moment. “A prank?”
I nodded, an idea forming in my mind as I held one of the chicken eggs. Holly had been helping Maple make breakfast the past few mornings, so maybe that would be the best opportunity to prank her.
“We’re going to need a very small, very pointy stick. Do you think you can help me find one of those?”
Clay nodded eagerly, then darted out of the chicken coop before I even had a chance to elaborate on our scheme.
I chuckled and followed him outside. In no time, Clay triumphantly brandished the perfect stick for the job. I showed him a technique I'd acquired over the years, mostly during Easter when my grandpa used to help me decorate eggs. The first step of my plan was straightforward: create a small hole at each end of the egg, one at the top and one at the bottom. Clay observed with fascination as I carefully punctured the eggshell, then brought it up to my mouth. His curiosity gave way to disgust as I blew the yolk and egg white out of the bottom hole, disposing it into some nearby bushes.
“This seems like a weird prank,” he said, his tiny nose scrunching up.
I handed him the now empty egg. “Crack it open.”
He did so, with some difficulty, against a rock. He stared between the two empty halves of the shell for a few seconds before his features lit up. “Holly is going to be so confused.”
I nodded, unable to suppress the grin spreading across my face.
***
The following morning, I found myself seated at the table alongside some of the other sprites. They were all in various stages of waking up, their sleepiness evident in their bleary eyes and yawns. In the background, I could faintly hear Reed snoring from my bedroom. The prank had slipped my mind entirely until I heard Holly’s perplexed voice from the kitchen counter.
"What the…?” she mumbled, clearly baffled.
Clay and I exchanged a quick, wide-eyed glance. Judging by his expression, it appeared that he had also forgotten about our little prank. I struggled to suppress a smile, feigning nonchalance.
“What's the matter with these eggs?” Holly grumbled in frustration. Maple, who had been busy mixing something, turned her attention to Holly and inspected the eggs with a puzzled expression.
Once again, Clay and I exchanged a look. Holly must have noticed it because she shot us a glare. “You two had something to do with this, didn’t you?”
Clay shook his head, but the sly grin that crept onto his face betrayed him. Holly seized another egg and hurled it at Clay. His smile disappeared in an instant as the egg collided with his face. Unfortunately for him, we hadn't removed all the regular eggs from the basket, and Clay tumbled from his chair, drenched in sticky egg goo. A stunned silence settled over the table.
Then, to everyone's surprise, Clay burst into laughter, thoroughly enjoying Holly’s outburst.
Holly grabbed another egg, aiming for Clay once more but slightly missing her target, and instead, it struck Rock, who sat nearby, still groggy from sleep. Egg yolk slid down Rock's face as he blinked in confusion, obviously not awake enough to fully process what had happened to him.
“Food fight!” Clay yelled as he clambered back onto the table, flinging a handful of hashbrowns at Holly. To my chagrin, the rest of the sprites joined in, and before I could intervene, I too found myself covered in slimy egg and hashbrowns.
A few moments later, Reed appeared in the doorway, roused from his slumber by the ruckus. He looked thoroughly disappointed in all of us. “Well, then. What's on the menu for breakfast?” he inquired, clearly unimpressed with the chaos he’d woken to.
I reached into my bag, pulling out the last of my ready-made meal stash, placing the magical food boxes onto the table. The sprites let out a collective groan.
“Also, everyone needs to pitch in and help me clean up this mess,” I announced, wiping egg remnants from my face. Despite the mayhem, it had been a rather enjoyable way to kickstart the morning, so I didn’t regret our little prank.