Woods, Reed and Rock followed Maple north to the river. Woods didn’t know what this was about, but the unsettling undercurrent of peculiar events in Sagewood had his stomach tied in permanent knots. Something wasn’t right, it hadn’t been for years now. The magic had shifted since he’d killed Corruption, but he wasn’t sure it was for the better. The forest was overgrown, Matt’s crops were out of control, and the delicate balance of magic still teetered dangerously. Maple stopped near the riverbank, reverting to her sprite form as she slid down the pebbles hastily toward the rushing water. She stopped just before the river, kneeling in the shiny pebbles. Woods’ gasped. It wasn’t just the water she knelt beside, but the River Spirit herself.

Rock and Reed stopped on the riverbank, disturbed looks on both their faces, while Woods cautiously picked his way toward Maple and the nature Spirit.

It was obvious the spirit didn’t have much longer in this realm.

“What happened?” Woods asked, his voice low, “Did something do this to you?”

Few beings possessed power greater than a nature spirit. If one was near Sagewood, it meant danger—danger that the sprites could hardly defend against.

The River Spirit gently shook her head, the motion barely discernible. “The...magic,” she whispered before closing her eyes. “You must find a way to fix it…it’s too strong…it’s grown toxic…” With those final words, her aqueous form, once defined, lost coherence, its liquid essence blurring into the pebbles and returning to the river.

A stunned quiet settled over the sprites. No one spoke for several solemn moments.

“Did she die?” Reed’s voice trembled as he broke the silence, “Or do you think there’s a way to bring her back?”

“I’m not sure, Reed.” Woods stared at the spot where the River Spirit had been moments before, “But we need to reverse what is happening as much as we can before anyone else is affected.”

Maple had begun quietly weeping, and Reed put his arm around her. Even Rock, the burliest of the sprites, looked like he was about to cry, his lip quivering.

Woods turned back to the small group gathered on the riverbank and cleared his throat. “Reed, take Maple back to the farmhouse. Rock, go find Ivy and check on the Cave Spirit. I will look for the Forest Spirit.” He paused, as if to steady himself before continuing, “If the magic is too strong for the nature spirits, it’s certainly not going to be livable for any other beings in the near future, both magical and unmagical.”

Reed nodded, grabbing Maple’s trembling hand as the duo began walking back to the farm. Rock nodded sadly before following them. The Cave Spirit resided on the south side of the property, in the southern rock chasms. If he was still alive, that is. No one had seen him for years, as he’d taken a sabbatical of sorts after the cave stone had been placed.

Woods glanced toward the forest, a heavy sense of dread settling in as he peered into the shadows beneath the trees. For a moment, he considered returning to the farm and gathering a few more sprites to join him. But the thought quickly faded. He couldn’t risk putting them in harm’s way—not with what might be lurking in the forest. And even if the others were willing, he couldn’t bear the idea of more of them witnessing the death of a nature spirit. The sight was harrowing, whether the River Spirit was truly gone or merely in a deep magical hibernation. He wished he’d been the one to find the River Spirit instead of Maple. He’d spent years trying to shield the others from the world’s darker truths. Yet, time and time again, he failed to protect them from the horrors that even he struggled to face.

Silently treading his way through the dense foliage, Woods strained his hearing and magic sensing abilities, attuned to any telltale sounds or magical auras. The elusive spirit he sought was somewhere amidst the trees, and his magical senses would inevitably lead him to her. A chilling notion crossed his mind—what if she was already gone? He shuddered. As much as he detested the Forest Sprit, without a guardian, the once-tamed trees would devolve into chaos, ultimately succumbing to the overabundance of magic. Unbridled and unchecked, their exponential growth had already spiraled out of control. He berated himself for his lapse in vigilance, realizing that he should have checked the well-being of the nature spirits weeks earlier. Not that there was anything he himself could do. He was just one sprite, and not even the strongest of them.

Over the past few years, it was becoming increasingly obvious. The only way to truly heal the land, was to bring back the Harvest Goddess. Matt was so close, but the farm had plateaued at level nine for years now.

After a few more moments of quiet contemplation, Woods’ magical senses picked up on an aura just to the west. It was weak, but recognizable. He quickly made his way closer to the aura, dread welling up inside him as he drew nearer.

She sat against a tree in a small grove, her eyes closed, a stark contrast to the vibrant life around her. Her skin, once radiant with the hues of nature, had grown pale, as if the life was draining from her. The rich, vibrant colors she once embodied had dulled, fading to washed-out tones that made her look frail and sickly. In the flourishing forest, she stood out like a wilting houseplant in the midst of a thriving garden.

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“I was hoping you’d come,” she said weakly.

Woods stayed quiet. She didn’t seem as close to death as the River Spirit had been when they’d found her, but how much longer did she have?

“What’s happening? The River Spirit…” Woods trailed off, not knowing how to break the news of the spirit’s passing. They were sisters after all.

“I know,” was all the Forest Spirit said. She motioned for Woods to come closer, which he did hesitantly.

It had been years since Woods’ corruption, and despite her many genuine apologies, it was a difficult thing to forgive. The Forest Spirit had played a pivotal role in his short yet destructive bout of madness. People had gotten hurt because of him, and things had happened that could never be reversed.

Lingering beneath Woods’ composed exterior were vestiges of resentment toward her, grudges that would take decades to get over. However, he tried to conceal these emotions, especially considering her fate—he likely would outlive her at this point, something he never thought possible.

“Years ago, the forest was sick with corruption magic. Now it appears the forest is growing sick with a different kind of magic. I fear this one may be even more destructive than the decay and blight that plagued Sagewood all those years ago.”

Woods crossed his arms, fixing the spirit with a perplexed look, “What kind of magic?”

The Forest Spirit sighed, her breath coming out in a rattle. “Growth magic. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The pendulum had swung too far in the direction of corrupt magic, now it overcorrects into growth magic.” The Forest Spirit ran her hand along the bark of the tree she sat up against. She looked as though she was going to try and stand, but decided against it, leaning her head against the trunk. “Any surplus of magic is dangerous, and this magic happens to be lethal to nature spirits. The only hope for the land now is bringing a balance.”

Woods nodded. He’d known this for centuries.

The spirit’s words hung heavy in the air as she continued, “Matt must awaken the Goddess, and soon. I fear the land will become uninhabitable. It may take years for that to happen, but more likely, it’ll be a few seasons.”

Woods drew in a sharp breath. That was not enough time.

Silence hung over the duo for several moments, the Forest Spirit struggling to muster even words now. Woods remained silent out of respect, though he wondered if he should say any words of comfort.

“Do you still hate me?” The Forest Spirit lifted her gaze to meet Woods’. Her eyes were weary, shadows of guilt carved into her once vibrant face. “For my role in your corruption.”

Her voice was strained, the weight of whatever was ailing her evident. Before Woods could answer, she descended into a fit of coughing, which gave Woods a few seconds to select his words carefully. He stood silently before the once great nature spirit, the forest around them a hushed witness to their conversation. The trees, ancient and knowing, seemed to lean in, as if eager to hear his response.

Woods’ thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a whirlwind.

Hate?

The word hardly captured the depth of his emotions. Her actions had plunged him into a maelstrom of pain and anger, nearly costing him his life—and the lives of his friends. Yet, paradoxically, it was his corruption that had granted him the power to defeat Corruption itself, close the portals on the farm and end the entity once and for all. The events were a tangled web of causality and consequence, and even though years had passed, it had not been enough time to mend the emotional wounds.

As the coughing subsided, Woods studied the nature spirit. Her once radiant form had withered, reduced to a fragile shadow of its former glory. Nature spirits were known for their temperamental and omnipotent nature, demanding respect and punishing those who defied them. Yet now, seeing her like this, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy.

He took a deep breath, letting the forest air fill his lungs, grounding him. “Hate is a strong word,” he began, his voice steady. “But no, I don’t hate you. Not anymore.”

She looked away, her expression pained. “I’m sorry, Woods. Truly, I am.”

Silence settled between them, the forest holding its breath. Woods felt the weight of her apology, the sincerity in her voice. He knew that forgiveness was a powerful thing, not just for her, but for himself as well.

“I forgive you,” he said finally, the words surprising even himself. Deep down, he knew she didn’t deserve it, but holding onto the anger would eat him alive from the inside out. There was a time for anger, and a time for letting go. A time to heal. And as Woods looked at the withering spirit, he knew it was that time.

Her eyes widened, a spark of hope flickering within them. “Thank you, Woods. That means more to me than you know.”

Woods nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief. The burden of his corruption was still heavy, but somehow, it felt lighter. They stood there for a moment, two souls scarred by the choices of one.

As the forest began to stir once more, the leaves rustling in a gentle breeze, the Forest Spirit closed her eyes and exhaled a final, ragged breath. She didn’t draw another. Woods stood beside her for a few moments, torn by conflicting emotions. Despite his disdain for the entity, the notion of someone facing death alone weighed heavily on him. He observed with somber eyes as the tree she leaned against gently enveloped her, roots entwining with her frail form, bark and spirit merging. In a matter of moments, it was done, and the spirit was gone.

Woods took a step back, feeling the profound stillness of the moment. The forest around him seemed to hold its breath, the wind pausing in reverence. His thoughts were a tumultuous mix of sorrow dread, and determination to find out what was happening to cause this. Tears pricked his eyes, and he quickly blinked them away. The trees, ancient witnesses to countless lifetimes, seemed to nod in quiet acknowledgment of the scene.

As he trudged back to the farm, the resolve within him solidified. He would find out what was happening, why the balance of magic was shifting, and what role he had to play in it all.