Finn leaned against a gnarled oak, the rough bark pressing into his back as he watched Woods and Alder pace through the clearing, their faces tight with worry. They’d been at this for hours, combing over every idea, every possibility, yet none of them had found a solution that wouldn’t leave things worse off than they already were.

Finn watched as Woods stopped to glance back at the farm, where the other sprites were gathered, tediously chopping down the trees. “We’re running out of time,” he muttered, his voice low, even though they were well out of earshot of the others.

Alder glanced at him, as if pulled out of his own spiraling thoughts, and nodded. “I’ve seen the farmer turn, plant and harvest ten crop fields. He’s never getting to level ten. He won’t be able to place the forest stone and awaken the Harvest Goddess. We need another option.”

“We don’t have any other options—all the nature spirits are gone,” Woods countered.

Finn sighed, leaning his head back against the tree and staring up through the tangled branches. They all knew it. Time was running short.

“I thought things were bad under Corruption’s influence, but things have never been worse,” Alder added, shaking his head. “Not in centuries.”

Woods nodded grimly. “The magic’s gone haywire. We’re lucky the farm’s still standing.”

Finn cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, Woods... have you told Matt the truth about Corruption? That it was really you who—”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Woods cut him off, his mismatched eyes flashing. “All we need to do is level up the farm. Then we can bring back the Harvest Goddess, and everything will be set right.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “You really believe that? Come on, Woods. The Harvest Goddess is just a fairy tale.”

Woods bristled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Finn. You’ve seen the statue she’s imprisoned in down in the cave. She’s real, and she’s our only hope.”

“Enough, both of you,” Alder interjected sharply. “Arguing won’t solve anything. I’ve called the rest of the southern sprites using a sprite signal. They should be here in a couple of days. Maybe they can find a way to free the Harvest Goddess.” Alder’s gaze shifted to Finn, his disdain barely hidden. “A Harvest Goddess who is certainly real,” he added with a snort. “I’ve never met a sprite in my life who didn’t believe that.”

Finn clenched his jaw, choosing silence over another pointless argument. It was true. Every sprite believed in the Harvest Goddess, and he’d been an outsider for far less than doubting that. But he wasn’t in the mood to get into it with Alder. Not now. Not when the stakes were this high.

Alder sighed heavily. “Truth is, there’s nothing any of us can do. As much as it pains me to say it, it all rests on the shoulders of the farmer.”

Woods chuckled, though there was little humor in it. “We’re lucky Matt decided to stay and farm. Can you imagine the trouble we’d be in if he’d chosen not to? If he’d gone back to his home world?”

Finn nodded as he considered how close they’d come to disaster. The fate of their world hung by a thread, and that thread was Matt Miller—a man who’d stumbled into their lives by chance.

Not the most impressive hero… but I suppose that beggars can’t be choosers.

***

A few days had passed since Flint and Rock had gone to deliver a letter to Crimsonshores, and when their magical signatures could be felt at the edge of the farm, all the sprites gathered to greet them.

Maple watched as Melvin, the eccentric wizard from Crimsonshores, accompanied them home, her heart rate increasing significantly when she spotted him.

Melvin shuffled around the perimeter. His long, tattered robes caught on brambles and stray branches, but the wizard seemed entirely oblivious. Every now and then, he muttered incantations under his breath, waving his hands in grand, exaggerated gestures.

From Maple’s vantage, it was a sight both amusing and unsettling. Melvin’s magic wasn’t subtle. As his spells took hold, the once-lush tree line around the farm began to wither. Leaves crinkled and collapsed like brittle parchment, and strong, healthy branches shriveled, curling inward as if retreating from the wizard’s power. Maple watched in uneasy fascination as the dense foliage was reduced to a skeletal, barren mess. What had taken the sprites entire days to do, had taken Melvin a matter of moments.

After the tree line lay stripped bare, Melvin produced a jar from within the folds of his robe. He moved deliberately along the farm’s boundaries, sprinkling a shimmering powder across the earth as he muttered more incantations, his words barely audible over the dry whisper of the powder hitting the ground.

“That should do it!” Melvin announced, clapping his hands together as though the job was simple. Then, without missing a beat, he added with a gleam in his eyes, “Now, who’s hungry?”

Maple watched with growing dread as the wizard approached the farmhouse, his every step increasing her anxiety. The moment he spotted her, a huge, genuine grin split his face, and he waved enthusiastically, picking up the pace.

If it weren’t for the fact that he’d already seen her, Maple would have retreated to hide out in the cave. She already had to deal with Leia’s subpar cooking, and now this. Whenever the wizard visited, he insisted on helping in the kitchen. Maple couldn’t think of anything worse.

“Maple! Hello! It’s me, Melvin!” He spoke as if Maple could forget him. The last time he stepped into her kitchen he’d almost burned the entire farmhouse to the ground.

Now standing before the sprite, Melvin pulled a rucksack out of thin air and beamed down at her. “I’ve brought a new ingredient I think will be... interesting to work with,” he began.

Maple groaned inwardly. Melvin reached his hand into the sack, rummaging around, his whole arm disappearing into the small bag like magic.

“I know I put it in here somewhere—oh! Ouch!” He yanked his arm out quickly. A shelled creature was clamped down on his hand with its massive claws. Maple’s stomach flipped as she took in the crustacean. It was a deep blue in color, with two claws at the end of a plated body. Was this the ingredient? Maple suddenly felt ill.

Melvin pulled the snapping creature off his pinned hand with his free one, his smile undiminished. The creature continued to try to clamp onto anything within reach, its meaty claws snapping at the air.

“It’s called a lobster. Matt told me they eat them back on Earth. Apparently, they’re very high-class dining.”

Maple narrowed her eyes in disbelief. He wasn’t serious, was he? This thing was more akin to a bug than any actual ingredient. Did they eat bug meat back on Matt’s world?

“Come! Let’s fire up the stove!” With the snapping creature in tow, Melvin strode past Maple into the farmhouse. Leia, Matt, and the children were in town, so there was no one but Maple to witness the monstrosity of a meal Melvin was sure to create. She shook her head and followed the wizard, all sense of appetite gone.

Melvin set his abomination of an ingredient onto the counter, where it began to slowly crawl away from him. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled an apron out of thin air, the words “Abra-ca-Dinner” embroidered across it. Maple couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the terrible pun.

As Melvin busied himself in the kitchen, Maple watched with a mixture of dread and morbid curiosity. The wizard filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove, the flames licking the sides as the water began to heat. The lobster continued its slow, menacing crawl across the counter. Surely, he wasn’t serious about this, was he?

Melvin, oblivious to Maple’s skepticism, whistled an out-of-tune melody as he waited for the water to boil. The sight was almost surreal—an all-powerful wizard, humming cheerfully, while a creature from the depths of the sea made its escape attempt across the kitchen.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Matt said this meal is most enjoyed with copious amounts of butter. Do you happen to have any of that on hand?”

Maple stared at the wizard. Of course, there was always butter on hand—Matt had six dairy cows, and he kept the fridge well-stocked—but was that the best choice for a pairing for this particular meal? She glanced at the lobster, still crawling defiantly across the counter.

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Melvin, as if sensing her hesitation, gave her a wide smile. “Trust me, Maple. This is going to be magical.”

Maple shrugged and left the kitchen, heading to the barn where extra dairy was kept in the refrigeration room. She grabbed a pound of butter, wrapped in white parchment paper, hoping it would be enough for the wizard’s antics.

When she returned to the farmhouse kitchen, the water had reached a rolling boil. Melvin was contending with the sea creature, deftly avoiding its snapping claws as he picked it up off the counter. Maple watched in horror as he dropped the crustacean—still alive—into the boiling water. The creature let out a high-pitched hiss, a sound that sent shivers down her spine.

Clutching the butter to her chest, Maple reeled at the scene before her. Melvin turned and gave her a thumbs up, his face beaming with enthusiasm. “Just in time, Maple! Bring the butter over here!”

Maple handed the butter to the wizard with shaking hands. Melvin took it with a grin, unwrapped the paper, and tossed the entire pound into a saucepan. Maple blinked. Did he really need all that butter?

Melvin started melting it down, humming as he worked. The butter separated under the heat, with the cream floating to the top and the yellow oil sinking to the bottom. He diced some green herbs and tossed them into the pan, an herbal aroma filling the kitchen.

Maple, driven by morbid curiosity, glanced into the pot of boiling water. To her shock, the creature had transformed from deep blue to a bright red.

“Ah yes, thank you for checking, Maple. Wouldn’t want to overcook this,” Melvin said, grabbing a pair of tongs to pull out the steaming crustacean. Maple felt her stomach lurch as he slapped it down on a plate. It looked anything but appetizing—more like a broiled bug, its black beady eyes staring blankly past her.

Melvin whisked the butter, oblivious to her horror, and poured it into a dish, placing it next to his culinary atrocity. The crustacean had cooled slightly, its red shell no longer steaming.

“Now all we have to do is get to the meaty parts.” Melvin grabbed the lobster with a grin. With a horrifying cracking sound, he separated the tail from its body. More cracking noises followed as he stripped away the shell. Maple flinched at each grotesque sound, her eyes growing wide at the violence involved in this meal. In a few moments, the dismembered lobster lay on the plate, its shell torn away. Melvin beamed at her. “Should we try it together?”

Maple gave the wizard an appalled look. She’d tried his experiments in the past, and only a handful were even tolerable.

At that moment, Reed walked into the farmhouse, waving to them both. “Melvin. Maple,” he greeted, giving them a warm smile. He glanced at the plate heaped with fleshy pink meat, his eyebrows pinching together. “What are you guys making?”

“Reed! Come try this! It’s a type of culinary delight from Matt’s world. I acquired it last time I was in the Emerald Cove.”

Reed glanced at Maple, measuring his words carefully. “Did you make this, Maple?” he asked, his eyes widening pointedly.

She shook her head vigorously.

Melvin, still oblivious, grabbed a fork, spearing a tiny piece of meat and swirling it in the butter mixture he’d prepared.

Reed came to stand by Maple, a thinly veiled mixture of disgust and curiosity on his face as Melvin popped the piece of meat into his mouth. Maple gave Reed a sidelong glance as the wizard chewed.

“That’s actually pretty good!” Melvin exclaimed, stabbing another piece of meat and swirling it in the butter before handing the fork to Reed. “You have to try some!”

Reed gave Maple a worried look. She shrugged and offered him a small smile. It was either him or her that would be Melvin’s test subject for his strange food. A small smile played at Reed’s mouth before he took the bite, chewing slowly.

“Hey,” he said after a few seconds, “this isn’t half bad. The texture’s a bit weird… but the flavor is good.”

Melvin nodded enthusiastically, taking back the fork before stabbing another piece and shoving it into his mouth. Reed turned to Maple, lowering his voice so only she could hear it. “Really, it wasn’t half bad. Maybe your expertise is rubbing off on the old wizard.”

Maple felt her cheeks redden at the compliment from Reed. She liked Reed. A lot.

Gathering her courage, she fished a sprite-sized fork from her bag and speared a piece of the pinkish meat. She didn’t give herself too long to think before shoving it into her mouth. Reed was right about the texture—it was chewy in an unpleasant way. But the flavor was good. It mostly tasted like butter to her, with a mild, briny flavor. She nodded at the wizard’s expectant look.

“Perfect! Glad you like it.” Melvin rummaged in his rucksack again, pulling out another blue abomination, causing Reed to yelp and take a step back. He put his arm out in front of Maple protectively as he eyed the blue creature. Maple felt herself blushing at his protectiveness. After all, it was just an ingredient, and the dish had turned out surprisingly edible.

Melvin, of course, didn’t notice Reed’s dismay. He turned back to the pot of boiling water with a grin. “I have fifteen more. We can cook them up for everyone for dinner tonight!”

***

I sat at the edge of the field, watching the sun sink behind the crops—crops that shouldn’t have been there yet, not this tall, not this full. I’d just seeded this field, and already, the plants were nearing harvest. At this rate, I’d be reaping tonight, whether I wanted to or not.

I sighed as I laced my fingers together and stretched my arms out in front of me. Every muscle in my body ached from the endless work. Flint and Rock had returned, bringing Melvin the wizard with them, but I hadn’t even had time to say a proper hello. I didn’t have time for anything but farming. The crops wouldn’t stop growing, so I couldn’t stop working. I took short breaks to check on the animals. Even shorter ones to take care of myself.

My stomach growled, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since I last ate. I glanced at the farmhouse, wondering if I could sneak away for dinner before the harvest hit full swing. But judging by the way the crops sagged under their own weight, that wasn’t an option.

“Matt! Matt Miller!”

I turned. Melvin approached, looking exactly the same as I remembered—tattered robes, crooked spectacles, and those ridiculous, hideous shoes he always wore. He strode toward me, stopping short as his eyes widened behind his glasses, watching the crops swell and shift as they grew.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Woods really wasn’t kidding, was he?”

“You got the letter,” I said, still seated in the dirt. I’d stand, but frankly, I was too tired. “Is there anything you can do?”

Melvin nodded. “I’ve already enchanted the farm’s boundaries and sprinkled anti-growth powder. That should slow things down. As for the trees—once the sprites chop them, they shouldn’t grow back as fast.” He hesitated. “We’ll have to see, though.”

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he produced a steaming plate of lobster out of thin air. “Maple and I made this for you. I figured you wouldn’t have time to come inside for dinner, so… here.”

I took the plate, too hungry to care that Melvin was a passable cook at best. Lobster wasn’t my favorite, but it wasn’t every day a wizard personally delivered dinner. I dug in, mumbling my thanks between bites.

To my surprise, Melvin sat down beside me in the dirt.

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. It had grown lonely out in the field, as the sprites were absorbed in overgrowth control and Leia was busy with the kids.

“Link’s grown up since I last saw him,” Melvin said, watching the plants creep ever closer to readiness. “And I met your daughter. Quite the little fireball, that one.” He chuckled before adding, “Bart would be proud of you, you know.”

I paused mid-bite, giving him a skeptical look. “Really? Because I feel like this whole farming thing has completely spiraled out of control.” I nudged away a vine that had slithered past the field boundary and was curling around my boot. “I’m starting to wonder if my being here is the reason everything is falling apart.”

Melvin shrugged. “I think you’re doing better than you realize. No one could have predicted this, but I’m glad you’re here to fix it.”

I nodded, turning back to my food. I had minutes—maybe less—before the crops would be ready. I couldn’t afford to waste them. Still, it was nice to sit, even for a little while.

“Thanks, Melvin,” I said as I scraped the last bits off my plate. “Not just for dinner. For coming out here. I know it’s a lot to ask, but… could you sprinkle some of that anti-growth powder around Sagewood? I’m worried about the villagers.”

Melvin clapped his hands against his knees and stood. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it—these plants won’t pick themselves. I’ll be staying at the inn tonight, but before I turn in, I’ll make sure Sagewood is safe.”

He turned and walked down the worn path through my farm, vanishing toward town.

I watched him go, grateful but unsettled. His magic was a temporary fix, a bandage over a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The real solution was still out of reach.

I turned back to the crops, their leaves heavy with bounty.

Level ten. That was the goal. The only way forward.

I had a job to do.

And I couldn’t stop now.

***

Flint’s arms ached as he swung the axe, chipping away at the sturdy oak tree. He was quite certain he’d chopped down this exact tree before leaving to visit Melvin. Now that he’d returned, it had somehow shot up to nearly twice its original height.

Beside him, Reed prattled on about one of his many fishing adventures, his words blending into a steady hum that mixed with the thud of their axes.

“...and then I caught this massive trout, you wouldn’t believe the size of it! It must have been at least—”

Flint nodded absently, his mind wandering to the stack of books waiting for him back at the farmhouse. He’d much rather be curled up with a good tome than out here, sweat trickling down his back as he hacked away at stubborn wood. It would grow back by tomorrow—Flint was sure of it.

“Hey, did you hear what I said about the lure I used?” Reed asked, pausing mid-swing.

“Uh, yeah, something about a silver spinner?” Flint guessed, hoping he’d caught enough to placate his friend.

Reed chuckled. “Not even close, but nice try.” He lifted his axe again, then froze, his gaze fixed on something beyond Flint’s shoulder. “Well, I’ll be...”

Curious, Flint turned to see what had caught Reed’s attention. His heart leapt into his throat.

There, standing at the edge of the clearing, was Fern.

Flint blinked hard, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no—it was really her. Her purple hat sat askew on her light hair, her glasses slightly crooked on her nose. She looked travel-worn but radiant, a shy smile playing on her lips.

“Fern?” Flint whispered, scarcely daring to believe it. It had only been a season since they’d seen each other, but it had felt so much longer.

Without thinking, he dropped his axe and sprinted across the clearing. Fern’s smile widened as she opened her arms. Flint crashed into her, wrapping her in a tight embrace that lifted her off her feet.

“You’re here!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “But how? When? I can’t believe—”

Fern giggled, the sound sending warmth through Flint’s chest. “Surprise,” she said softly, her arms tightening around him.

Flint set her down gently, suddenly aware of how sweaty and disheveled he must look. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, feeling his cheeks grow hot. “I, uh... it’s good to see you,” he stammered.

Fern’s cheeks were pink too as she adjusted her glasses. “It’s good to see you too, Flint. I’ve missed you.”