The air in Sagewood buzzed with excitement as townsfolk gathered around the makeshift racecourse. Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, and children darted between the legs of adults, laughing and playing. Charlie and Lucy were among them, familiar with all the other families and children in Sagewood. Though it had only been a few years, the horse race was now an established annual tradition. In fact, it was the highlight of the spring season, and the entire town had turned out for it.
I stood near the starting line, arms crossed, watching the other participants prepare their horses. Just as Flint had suspected, Leia had convinced me to compete in the race. Unbeknownst to me, she’d already signed me up weeks ago.
My gaze drifted over to Goldie, my trusty old mare, who was lazily munching on some grass, utterly unconcerned with the commotion around her. Goldie’s coat, though still glossy, had lost some of its youthful sheen, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. She’d been with me through thick and thin, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to push her through the rigors of a race she had no interest in.
The perk I’d gained at level seven, Livestock Whisperer, had deepened my bond with Goldie more than with any other animal on the farm. Sure, the rest of the animals liked me, but with Goldie, it was different. She wasn’t just a workhorse anymore—she felt like family. Maybe that’s why the idea of entering her in the race didn’t sit right with me.
The other horses stamped impatiently at the dirt, their anticipation vibrating in the air. The track wound its way around a field just outside of Sagewood village, a mile long stretch that was just enough to test both rider and steed. The starting line where I stood was also the finish line, as the track looped in a circle, ensuring the crowd could have a view of the most exciting parts of the race.
I took a moment to size up the competition: a varied bunch, from energetic young geldings with a spring in their step to sturdy old workhorses, much like my own horse.
There wasn’t much at stake—no grand prize awaited the winner, just the sweet taste of bragging rights at the inn for the next few weeks. But that didn’t dampen the spirit of competition. For the townsfolk and especially the children, this was more than just a race. It was an event, a tradition, a chance to cheer for their favorites and revel in the simple joys of country living. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched the gathered group of children, mine included, arguing over which horse would win. My ears picked up Charlie’s voice, proudly boasting about Goldie and how he was certain she would take first place. I chuckled at his childlike faith in our old workhorse, amused by his unwavering belief in her.
“About time you showed up!” Axel called, bringing me out of my thoughts. He strode up to me and clapped a hand on my shoulder, a broad grin on his face. His horse, a sleek black stallion named Midnight, was already pawing at the ground, itching to get started. Axel, like most of my brothers-in-law, never missed a chance to compete in the race. I looked past him, noticing that most of Leia’s brothers were here with their own horses. After a little over five years of being part of the family, I’d earned the favor of most of them. Most, not all.
Most of Leia’s brothers and I were friendly, with the exception of one: Magnus. He’d never quite warmed up to me. While we’d managed to establish some mutual respect, the annual horse race seemed to bring out the old tensions, making him act like he did when I first joined the family. I suspected he joined the race every year just for the satisfaction of trying to beat me. I spotted him among the other competitors, aggressively tightening the girth on his horse’s saddle with a determined look.
I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Axel. Goldie’s not as young as she used to be, and, well… I’ve never really been a fan of these races.”
“That’s exactly why you should do it,” Leia chimed in, her eyes sparkling as she approached with a basket of freshly baked rolls. “It’s not about winning, Matt. It’s about having fun, being part of the community. And besides, Goldie looks like she could use a good run. She’s still got plenty of spirit in her.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Goldie was nothing if not spirited, and the old mare raised her head from the grass, as if sensing that she was the topic of conversation. She gave a snort, flicking her tail in what I could only interpret as a challenge.
“See? She wants to race,” Leia said, offering me one of the warm rolls from her basket.
“Maybe she does,” I admitted, taking the roll and biting into it thoughtfully. The sweet, buttery flavor melted on my tongue, and I felt some of my reluctance fading.
As much as I wanted to head back to the farm, I couldn’t deny the excitement in the air—or the way Goldie’s ears had perked up at the sound of the other horses. Maybe a little fun wouldn’t hurt.
“Alright, alright,” I said, throwing up my hands in mock defeat. “I’ll do it. But don’t blame me if we come in last.”
Axel let out a cheer, and Leia clapped her hands together. “That’s the spirit, Matt! We’ll be cheering for you.”
Leading Goldie to the starting line, I felt the crowd’s energy seep into my bones. Townsfolk were shouting encouragements, and a group of children had even started chanting Goldie’s name, led by Charlie. I couldn’t help but smile as I climbed into the saddle, feeling the familiar comfort of the worn leather.
The announcer, the towns oldest crazy person and one of the first people I’d met in Sagewood, Cecil, stepped forward, raising a checkered flag. “Ladies and gentlemen, gather ’round! It’s time for the annual Sagewood horse race! Riders, take your marks!”
I took a deep breath, settling into the saddle. I patted Goldie’s neck, feeling the warmth of her coat under my hand. “You ready, girl?” I whispered.
Goldie snorted, pawing the ground with one hoof, while the other horses whinnied and stamped, the tension in the air growing thick with anticipation.
“And they’re off!”
The flag dropped, and the horses surged forward. I let Goldie set her own pace, not pushing her too hard. To my surprise, she picked up speed quickly, her stride steady and strong. We weren’t leading the pack, but we weren’t trailing either.
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As we rounded the first corner, a rush of adrenaline hit me. The wind whipped through my hair, and for the first time in a long while, I felt truly free. Free from the demands of daily farm chores and the monotonous routine of hard labor. I glanced to my left, where Axel and Midnight were galloping alongside us. Axel shot me a grin, and I couldn’t help but grin back.
The townsfolk were cheering wildly as the horses thundered down the middle stretch, and I caught sight of familiar faces in the crowd. Everyone in Sagewood had come out to see the race.
Goldie seemed to feed off the crowd’s energy, her pace never faltering. A swell of pride for my old equine friend rose in my chest. She was proving everyone wrong, including me.
As we approached the final stretch, the other horses began to pull ahead. But I didn’t care. I leaned forward, giving Goldie a gentle nudge. “Let’s finish strong, girl.”
Goldie quickened her pace, her hoofbeats pounding rhythmically as she gained ground. I leaned forward a tad more, urging her on, the wind whipping through my hair. Just ahead, Magnus was leading the pack, his horse surging toward the finish line with powerful strides. The excitement in the air was palpable, the crowd's cheers growing louder as we neared the end.
Suddenly, just as Magnus was about to cross the finish line, a low rumble echoed through the ground. It was subtle at first, almost like distant thunder, but it quickly grew into a violent tremor that shook the earth beneath us. The crowd’s cheers turned into gasps of alarm as the tremor intensified, causing the ground to split and crack right at the finish line. The ground yawned open like a gaping maw, as if poised to swallow the lead riders whole.
Goldie skidded to a halt, her hooves scrambling for purchase on the shifting earth. The other horses scattered, their riders struggling to control them as the tremor rippled through the field. I barely managed to keep my balance, gripping the reins tightly as Goldie reared up, her eyes wide with fear.
Magnus' horse, spooked by the sudden upheaval, veered sharply to the side, narrowly avoiding the jagged cracks that had formed. Magnus himself looked shaken, his usual confidence replaced by a look of alarm.
Whinnies from the horses and the panicked cries of the townsfolk filled the air, amplifying the chaos. Dust swirled up from the finish line, obscuring the path and sending the horses scattering in all directions. Tightening the reins, I quickly turned Goldie away from the frenzy, steering her to backtrack along the racecourse. I circled back, watching the scene from a safer distance as the dust and the crowd began to settle. Where the finish line once stood, there was now a massive, gaping pit—dangerously deep and unnaturally shaped.
The gathered townsfolk were now murmuring anxiously among themselves, their earlier excitement replaced by unease. The tremor subsided as quickly as it had begun, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
I’d lived through a few earthquakes before coming to this world, but none had ever felt like this or left behind such an unusual aftermath. What made it even stranger was that in all my years in Sagewood, I’d never experienced a single tremor. Something about the whole situation felt off. I remembered the oddities in my harvest yesterday—the wild, unruly plants and the unsettling feeling that something was deeply wrong—but I quickly brushed the thought aside. There were more urgent matters at hand, and the two events were likely unrelated.
I glanced at Leia, who had been watching from the sidelines. Her expression mirrored my own—a mix of confusion and growing concern. Thankfully, she had both our children safe—Lucy held snugly on her hip, while Charlie’s hand was firmly clasped in hers. The basket of rolls she’d been carrying earlier was likely abandoned during the chaos, replaced with far more precious cargo.
As I dismounted Goldie and patted her neck to calm her, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a random, natural occurrence—something was off. The tremors had felt eerily similar to the ones I’d experienced in the cave. Could a nature spirit be meddling with the race? But the Cave Spirit wouldn’t do something like this, and I hadn’t seen it in years. I shuddered, remembering how the earth trembled when a great dragon once slept beneath my land. It seemed unlikely that a dragon lurked under Sagewood. So what could’ve caused this? The question gnawed at me.
Axel, who had been trailing behind me in the race, rode up alongside, his horse’s eyes wide and uneasy as he dismounted. “Matt, are you all right?”
I nodded, but my eyes were fixed on the dust settling near the finish line. Magnus had been in the lead, and while I’d seen his horse avoid the initial danger, I’d lost sight of him in the chaos. Relief washed over me as I spotted him and the other riders gathered a few paces from the ruined finish line, their horses more anxious now than before the race.
A few men from the crowd had stepped forward and now surrounded the pit, still giving it a wide berth, but drawing close enough to see inside.
Handing Goldie’s reins to Axel, I pushed through the crowd, making my way to the edge of the pit. It gaped like a wound, jagged and unnatural.
Titus and Rowan joined me, both looking impressed and a little spooked by the sight.
“We should get everyone away from here, just in case of aftershocks,” I said, my voice steady despite the unease gnawing at me. Titus exchanged a glance with Rowan before asking, his voice slow with concern, “What’s an aftershock?”
Before I could answer, the ground gave a subtle shudder, eliciting shrieks and gasps from the crowd. Everyone gathered retreated a few more paces back, giving the pit a wider distance. The pit seemed to pulse, like a living thing—hungry and waiting. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of something unseen pressing down on us. “Get the townsfolk away from here. I’ll help with the riders,” I said to Titus and Rowan. They nodded and hurried off toward the crowd, leaving me to deal with the shaken competitors. I walked briskly toward the riders, who looked as spooked as their horses.
“I think the race this year will be undetermined,” I announced, trying to keep my voice calm. “It’s not safe to ride in these conditions.”
Magnus, who had been leading the race, glared at me with unexpected anger. “You’re just saying that because you were in last place!” His horse pawed the ground, mirroring his frustration.
“What are you talking about, Magnus? Didn’t you see that massive hole in the ground? You were the closest one to it!” I countered. Then, almost sheepishly, I added, “And for the record, I wasn’t in last place.”
For a moment, Magnus just stared at me, his jaw clenched. Then, as if the reality of the situation finally sunk in, his expression softened, and he looked back at the pit with a mix of fear and realization.
“You’re right,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his remark. He was the one leading the race, and therefore the one in the most danger, but dwarves could be stubbornly proud. Instead, I broke the silence that followed his words. “Our priority should be making sure everyone’s safe for now.” I glanced back down at the pit, aware that there was still a risk of aftershocks. Someone could easily fall in if we weren’t careful. We couldn’t let this massive pit become a permanent landmark in Sagewood, however—it was a disaster waiting to happen. A child, an animal, or worse, one of the sprites might stumble into it, and I’d have to rescue them before anyone from town spotted them. We’d have to come back, myself and some of the men, and fill it in before it caused any more trouble.
Magnus finally nodded defeatedly, the tension easing from his stance. The other riders, seeing Magnus relent, began to settle their horses, their earlier competitiveness replaced by a shared concern.
As we started leading the horses away from the pit, the townsfolk were already dispersing, guided by Titus and Rowan. The festive energy that had filled the air just moments ago was replaced by an uneasy silence, broken only by the nervous snorts of the horses and the whispers of the crowd.
I took a deep breath, glancing back at the pit one last time. It was so random, but I couldn’t help but feel that the strange things going on in Sagewood were all related. As I turned to leave, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger, something much bigger than a simple farmer could handle.