As the day waned, the sun hung low, casting long shadows across the fields in a soft, amber light. The warmth of the day lingered, but the cool evening air was starting to settle in, carrying with it the earthy scent of the soil. My boots pressed into the ground, the dirt still damp from the afternoon rainstorm I’d unleashed on it, via my favorite perk. I crouched down, fingers brushing the soil, feeling for weeds that had snuck through the rows. There was a quiet satisfaction in pulling them up before nightfall, like I was guarding the land, making sure nothing could take root before dawn.

I moved from one row to the next, inspecting each plant carefully. A few days prior, I’d planted corn, a crop from my original home. The crops were already tall, almost reaching my midsection. Thanks to my special farming perks, and probably the a few other strange things out of my control, the crops were flourishing. The leaves looked healthy—dark green, no signs of yellowing or pests. I nodded to myself, feeling that small surge of pride that always came when I saw my plants thriving.

Despite the strangeness going on, I was actually a little excited about the speed with which the plants were growing. I inspected one of the plants, pulling up its description.

Corn

Days until harvest:20

Quality: ?

I wiped the sweat that had gathered under my straw hat. Even though temperatures were climbing higher every day, I didn’t find the heat unpleasant. It was the kind of heat that made you feel alive, connected to the ground beneath your feet. I paused by a different grouping of the corn crop, lifting a few of the leaves to check for any signs of blight or pests. So far, so good. The tiny green buds were just starting to show, and I couldn’t wait until they ripened. I always saved a few ears to make popcorn, a favorite tradition among my family. I straightened up, stretching my back and breathing in the clean air as I turned back to admire the crop once more, unable to help myself.

The stalks were tall, vibrant green, and strong, each one standing firm and proud. The leaves were broad, wide enough to catch every glimmer of the sun’s last light, and the way they rustled in the evening breeze had a rhythm to it, like the corn itself was breathing.

As I bent closer, I ran my hand along one of the stalks. The texture was firm but smooth, the ridges distinct under my fingers. The smell—the unmistakable sweetness of fresh corn—mingled with the evening Spring air.

I marveled at the perfection of it. This wasn’t just a crop; this was bounty. The rows stretched endlessly, each plant seemingly more vigorous than the last, and I couldn’t help but feel pride swell inside me. It was as if the land had rewarded me, as if every seed I had planted had decided to show its fullest potential.

Sometimes, I wondered if the crops knew how much I cared about them, how much of myself I poured into this land. It had taken me a few years to learn that I wasn’t just farming—I was part of something bigger. The plants were living, growing things, and not only did farming help the land, but it helped so many people in Sagewood. The Inn and the market had been exclusively buying my produce for years now, and I knew local markets sold from my dropbox. This life was hard, but it was truly rewarding.

There were still hours of work ahead—watering, checking for any signs of disease, maybe a little more weeding—but that didn’t bother me. This was where I belonged, out in the open, hands in the dirt, surrounded by life.

I turned to look back down the row I had just finished, and I froze. The corn seemed... taller. Just a bit, but enough to catch my eye. Frowning, I stood and measured it against my body like I had before. Had it grown? An inch, maybe two? That didn’t make any sense. I glanced down at the soil, still freshly disturbed, and my eyes narrowed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath. Tiny green shoots were already squirming their way out of the dirt, replacing the weeds I had just yanked out minutes ago. My frustration flared.

I bent back down and ripped them out again, working my way through the row with an annoyed intensity, muttering curses as I went. After about fifteen minutes of this, I stood up to inspect my work, wiping sweat from my brow. But what I saw made me gasp.

The corn had grown. Not just a little—it was noticeable. In the time I had spent fighting the weeds, the stalks had stretched higher, their leaves fuller. I stared, dumbfounded, as the field seemed to be imbued with unnatural, accelerated growth.

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A single leaf unfurled before my eyes, revealing a bud that looked far too mature for this stage. I reached out, snapped it off, and peeled back the layers. Inside was an ear of corn, nearly ripe—impossible for how little time had passed.

“How...?” I muttered, my confusion mounting. It felt like I was watching the world fast-forward, like time itself was bending, propelling the crop forward at an unnatural pace. At this rate, the corn would be fully ready by morning, maybe sooner.

I focused on another plant and pulled up the stats, double-checking.

Corn

Days until harvest: 1

Quality: ?

“That’s… not normal,” I whispered, unease creeping in as the crops continued to grow right before my eyes. Something was deeply wrong. Yes, the strange plant growth and tremors had been unsettling, but this was something else entirely. I stood frozen, horrified, as I watched the plants writhing unnaturally, stretching a few more centimeters within mere minutes.

A flicker of movement caught the edge of my vision, and I instinctively tensed, spinning toward the source. Instinctively, I reached my hand back to grab my sword but stopped as I saw who it was.

Rock and Ivy were heading south together, their silhouettes barely visible against the fading light. Ivy gave me a quick wave, her usual cheer evident, but something about Rock seemed off.

Rock was sprite of very few words, but this silence felt different. As he passed me, I caught a glimpse of his face, and as good as he was at hiding his emotions, I could tell something was off. His expression mirrored the unease gnawing at me.

They halted, turning slowly to face me. A quick, unreadable glance passed between them, like they were sharing something I wasn’t meant to know. Their faces were drained of color, a look that went beyond mere exhaustion.

“Of course,” Ivy replied, her voice tinged with something unsaid. “Why wouldn’t we be okay? Everything’s fine. Totally fine.”

“Rock,” Rock echoed, his tone clipped, as if forcing the word through gritted teeth.

We stood there for a moment, the air between us heavy with unspoken tension. Then, without another word, they turned and continued south, leaving me with a feeling I couldn’t shake—they’d seen something out there. Maybe it was as strange as the plants before me, but it seemed worse. One thing was certain—if the sprites were hiding something from me, it had to be big. Something dangerous. And whatever it was, it was well beyond my ability to control.

Turning back to the corn, I tried to shake off the creeping unease. The plants seemed to have settled, their rapid growth slowing, almost as if my watchful eye had forced them into stillness. Crouching down, I tore at another clump of weeds that had already pushed through the soil. My hands worked on autopilot, pulling stubborn roots free, while my thoughts raced in every direction.

What did this mean? If the crops kept growing at this pace, I’d have a full harvest by tomorrow. That should’ve been a blessing, something to celebrate, but it didn’t feel right. The land was changing—too quickly, too unnaturally. And that meant trouble, not just for me, but maybe for all of Sagewood. What had Rock and Ivy seen out there in the forest? Over the years, my sprite companions and I had stood against all manner of challenges and monsters, and there wasn’t much left that could rattle them. They had looked... afraid. Truly afraid, in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. I shook my head, pushing the thought away, trying not to dwell on it. The sprites were more than capable of defending me and my farm.

I glanced at the farmhouse in the distance, where my family was likely finishing up dinner, unaware of what was happening out here in the fields. If this strange growth continued, if it spread beyond my farm... What would it mean for my wife and kids? For the town?

The ground beneath me shifted slightly, the faintest tremor rippling through the soil. It could’ve been my imagination, but I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Pulling up the last of the weeds, I stood, wiping the dirt from my hands as I surveyed the field. The corn loomed tall, growing even now, like the very land itself was alive, restless. I had to figure this out—what was causing it, and what it meant for all of us. Because if the farm was changing, the rest of Sagewood might not be far behind.

And I wasn’t sure we were ready for what was coming.

The evening deepened around me, shadows stretching long across the field as I yanked yet another weed from the soil, only to watch in frustration as two more sprouted in its place. I worked faster, pulling at the stubborn roots, but each time I cleared a patch, the weeds reappeared, mocking my effort.

It was like trying to empty a river with a bucket. Futile. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, glancing up at the sky. The stars had begun to pierce through the dimming light, signaling the end of the day. I sighed, defeated. The field wasn’t going anywhere, and these persistent weeds clearly weren’t either.

With one last glance at the corn, now tall and eerie in the twilight, I gave in. “Tomorrow,” I muttered. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

Turning my back on the endless cycle of weeds, I made my way to the house. There was no sense in fighting a battle I couldn’t win tonight.

I nearly jumped when I passed Woods on my way back to the farmhouse. His presence had a strange, unsettling weight to it, much like the other sprites earlier.

I called out to him, but he either didn’t hear me or chose not to respond. He kept walking, his steps deliberate, his gaze fixed southward—just like Rock and Ivy before him.

I watched him fade into the growing darkness, disappearing into the night as if swallowed by it. They were all heading south.

I frowned, making a mental note to ask them about it in the morning.