I stood at the edge of the field, surveying a new crop of plants. These ones had been haphazardly in the late hours of the night, and now the golden glow of the sunrise shone over them. The morning air was crisp and fresh, filled with the earthy scent of soil and the subtle sweetness of ripe produce, but I was in a terrible mood. This should have been a happy moment for me. A moment I used to savor. This was usually the culmination of hard work, careful planning, and luck from the fickle spring weather. It was harvest time. Again. And this harvest hadn’t had any of those things usually needed to produce a successful crop. I hadn’t tilled the soil properly. I hadn’t watered them. These plants had never even seen sunlight until now—the first golden rays breaking over the horizon.

Plants weren’t supposed to grow without the sun. But nothing followed the rules anymore.

Last night, after barely clearing yesterday’s harvest, I scattered a handful of seeds across the dirt, not caring where they landed or if they were even the same kind. I couldn’t be bothered to plant them correctly. Instead, I’d trudged over the field, stomping half-heartedly to bury them in the dirt. My body was running on fumes after the backbreaking double harvest from the day before. I didn’t have the energy to care, and by the time I crawled into bed, I was barely conscious.

This morning, though, as I stood scowling at the crops, it was clear today would be no different. I’d clear these crops, then plant more, harvesting them around midday, only to do it again the latter half of the day. Luckily Melvin had arrived just in time to quell the forest’s unnatural growth, but Woods had advised against doing the same to the crop fields. At this point, I was pretty sure the rapid growth was the very land itself trying desperately to correct itself, pull the excess magic through the crops in a last attempt to make everything normal again. The land was scrambling for balance, and I knew we were running out of time before it all came crashing down.

I stepped into the field, my boots sinking slightly into the loamy earth. The crops stood tall, much taller than any other harvest I’d had in my past years in Sagewood. Giant tomatoes glistened like rubies, elvish-cucumbers hung in perfect green rows, and corn stalks reached skyward, their golden tassels swaying gently in the breeze. I glared at them. It was as if they were mocking me. Or I was just extremely tired.

My harvest began with the tomatoes. I plucked each off the vine, grumbling when the plant didn’t disappear. The fruit came off easily, a sign of perfect ripeness. Normally, I would’ve marveled at their size and color, each one a flawless specimen. Not today.

I angrily tossed the tomatoes into and at the drop box, not caring if they actually made it in or not. I wouldn’t be able to fit all the harvest into the drop box today anyway, so I figured getting a little aggression out on the plants was warranted.

I spun on my heel as I walked to the outskirts of the field, growling as my frustration boiled over.

I wasn’t going to harvest the rest. Simple as that.

With a single thought of my weatherman perk, I summoned a storm that reflected the storm inside me. Dark, churning clouds rolled in almost instantly, roiling across the sky like a bruise spreading over the clear horizon.

The rain came first in fat, heavy drops, then quickly escalated into a deluge—torrents of water hammering the ground with a force I would’ve never allowed earlier in the season. But today? Today I didn’t care. The storm fed off my anger, unleashing a wrath that tore through the field with unrelenting ferocity.

The soil became a muddy swamp. The plants were no match for the fury I’d called down. One by one, their roots were exposed to the ruthless rain. Puddles of water rose quickly, swirling around the crops, uprooting them as though they were nothing more than debris in a river.

The water surged, pushing the plants toward the field’s edges, then beyond, as if it knew the boundaries of my land. Within minutes, the field was stripped bare, the haphazardly planted groups of crops gone, swept away by the flood I had summoned. Some part of me—the logical part—knew I was stripping the soil of important nutrients. Nitrogen, phosphorus, all the minerals that made life possible. The water probably swept away what I had carefully and intentionally built for years, but I didn’t care anymore.

I stood there, chest heaving, watching as the storm’s fury carried the last remnants of the cursed plants away. It was destruction, pure and simple, but it felt like the release I needed.

“Matt?” Woods’ calm voice cut through the storm of my thoughts.

I turned to see him standing there, trying—and failing—to mask the concern on his face. His eyes flicked from me to the drowned field, now nothing more than a morass.

“I think,” he began, pausing as if choosing his words carefully, “maybe... maybe you need to take a break. From the fields.” He forced a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

I nodded and took a step back from the edge of the field. “If you need me, I’ll be clearing weeds by the cave.”

It wasn’t exciting work—most people would avoid it if they could—but there was something almost meditative about it. Especially after dealing with endless harvests. I hadn’t planted these weeds, they weren’t producing any crops, and I could swing my scythe at them over and over, hacking away until my frustration dulled.

The cave entrance was choked with thick, tangled brambles, their roots burrowing deep into the soil as if they had always belonged there. It was a battle of persistence—one I didn’t mind fighting. The weeds had to go, and I welcomed the chance to take out some of my lingering anger on them. At least these didn’t grow back the second I cut them down. Melvin had probably done something about that, and for once, I was grateful to be dealing with plants that actually stayed dead.

***

The air near the cave was noticeably cooler, a refreshing change from the warmth of the rest of the farm. The season was shifting into summer, the spring coolness quickly becoming a distant memory. The shade provided by the looming rock formations created a pleasant, almost chilly microclimate. It was the perfect spot to work without sweating through my clothes. The entrance to the cave, framed by the uneven stone, cast jagged shadows that danced in the late afternoon light. Years ago, the sprites and archaeologists had widened the entrance. Though I hadn’t been around for it, I’d heard it had taken a lot of dynamite to accomplish the task. They’d done it to free the fearsome dragon, Tyrannox, who I hadn’t seen for a few years now, as was the deal he and Woods had made.

I hefted my trusty scythe. Its blade gleamed in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the canopy of trees. The handle, worn smooth by years of use, fit perfectly in my hands. With a deep breath, I swung it through the air, the blade slicing cleanly through the dense foliage. The sound of the swishing blade and the satisfying thud of cut weeds hitting the ground was music to my ears.

With each swing, I lost myself more and more in the rhythm of the work. The world around me faded away, leaving only the repetitive motion of cutting and clearing. I moved methodically, clearing section by section, watching as the ground slowly emerged from beneath the tangle of weeds.

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The landscape here was beautiful in its ruggedness. The cave mouth, dark and mysterious, seemed to beckon with secrets of its own. Moss-covered rocks jutted out from the earth, creating natural formations that looked like something out of a fantasy novel. The air smelled of damp earth and fresh greenery, a scent that helped clear my head.

As I sliced through the weeds, small creatures scurried away from my path. A field mouse darted into a burrow, and a pair of rabbits bounded off into the underbrush. Birds chirped overhead, flitting from branch to branch, curious about the commotion below. Much like the rest of Sagewood, the whole area felt alive, vibrant with the raw energy of nature.

Time slipped by unnoticed as I worked. My muscles moved with practiced ease, each swing of the scythe bringing a little more order to the chaos. I paused occasionally to wipe the sweat from my brow and take in the progress I had made. The pile of cut weeds grew steadily at my feet, a stubborn heap that no longer vanished when I cut them down. Unlike the crops, though, it didn’t bother me. Let them wither and rot—it wasn’t like I spent much time near the cave anyway. If the weeds wanted to pile up in a forgotten corner of the farm, so be it. I had bigger things to worry about.

The cooler temperature near the cave was a blessing, keeping me comfortable even as I exerted myself. The sun dipped lower in the sky as the afternoon waned. The shadows lengthened, but I didn’t keep track of time.

Finally, with one last swing, I cut down the last patch of weeds. I stood back, surveying the now-clear area with a sense of satisfaction. The ground was free of the choking foliage, revealing the natural beauty of the terrain. I took a deep breath, savoring the clean, cool air, and wondered how long the area would stay like this. Probably at this rate, a few hours, maybe a day or two thanks to Melvin’s ministrations.

I glanced up, noticing for the first time that I was alone out here. Usually, on the farm, even during my most mundane tasks, I always had at least one companion. It felt strange going more than a few hours without being bothered by the sprites or my kids, and I found myself looking around to see if anyone was nearby. The silence was almost eerie.

Just as I was pondering this, I felt a sudden chill down my spine. Before I could react, a bucket of water came crashing down over my head. The water soaked me, and it was as cold as winter ice. Spluttering and wiping my eyes, I looked up to see Reed and Holly perched on a branch overhead, the pair barely able to contain their laughter. How they’d managed to get that bucket of water up there without my noticing, I’d likely never know. Despite the shock and sudden discomfort, I couldn’t help but smile when I saw them, relief flooding me.

“Gotcha!” Clay called, appearing from behind a tree.

I shook my head, trying to suppress my own laughter. “Really, guys? With everything else going on?”

Holly smiled her signature impish grin. “You should’ve seen your face, Matt!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics. “All right, you got me. Now how about you two help me gather these weeds into a pile?”

Clay and Holly exchanged a wary glance, their laughter subsiding as they realized they might have just signed themselves up for more chores.

I brushed the water from my eyes, not bothering to change out of my soaked clothes. I was almost done with this task and looked forward to retiring to the farmhouse to spend the evening with my family. I knelt to pick up a stack of weeds but blinked in surprise as a notification appeared.

Level up!

Congratulations! Your farm has reached level 10.The Harvest Goddess will reward you with your final perk.

“That did it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “The weeds… they pushed me over the line.”

“You all right, Matt?” I heard Clay ask.

“Maybe that prank was too much for him,” Holly muttered to Clay.

I turned to look at the two sprites, my surprise plain on my face. “You two need to go get Woods. Now.”

***

I retrieved the forest stone from my bag. Despite it taking up an inventory slot all these years, I never kept it anywhere else. This was the final stone that was needed to awaken the goddess statue. Now, with the farm finally at level ten, I had met the leveling condition to place it. I ran my thumb over its polished surface, noticing its deep emerald color which swirled with jade and flecks of gold. What once seemed beautiful now reminded me of the encroaching forest around Sagewood—a forest that threatened to kill me and everyone I held dear. I was also curious to see what new perk I would get after placing the stone.

Woods stood beside me. He’d arrived at the cave mere moments after Holly and Reed had gone to fetch him. The dim light of my lantern cast long, eerie shadows, and the cold air sent goosebumps rippling across my skin. The towering walls, adorned with ancient moss and creeping vines, seemed to close in on me. I still felt shaky from leveling up so suddenly, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to steady my breath.

“There’s no time to waste,” Woods said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Hurry up and place that stone so we can get things back to normal.”

I hesitated, something I couldn’t explain giving me pause. “Don’t you think we should… I don’t know, talk about this first?”

Woods frowned at me. “What’s there to talk about? This is what you’ve been working towards for the past five years. The end of your quest is in sight!”

“I don’t know,” I said, frowning. “Something just… doesn’t feel right. I can’t explain it.”

Woods blew out a breath. “Look, Matt. I get that you weren’t expecting this. But now’s not the time to get stage fright. Now is the time to repair the balance of magic once and for all.”

“I don’t have stage fright,” I snapped. “I just think that maybe we should have a game plan just in case…”

“Just in case what?” Woods’ frown deepened.

I shrugged. “Just in case it doesn’t work. Or something goes wrong. I don’t know. This all seems too sudden, too convenient.”

Woods rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Nothing about the last five years has been convenient,” he muttered. “The truth is, no one knows what’s going to happen when you place that stone, so there’s nothing we can do to plan. All we can do is move forward and take things as they come. Wouldn’t you agree?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I guess so.” I turned back to the statue, still feeling apprehensive, and blew out a breath. “Well… here goes nothing, I guess.” With a shaky hand, I lifted the stone, its surface cool and smooth against my palm, and carefully placed it into the designated slot at the base of the statue. A brilliant green flash erupted from the point of contact, illuminating the cave in an otherworldly glow before adhering the stone to the base with a click.

Woods and I both held our breath, the silence pressing down on us like a physical force. The seconds stretched into eternity, each heartbeat louder than the last. Just as I began to question what would happen next, the cave began to tremble. The ground beneath our feet shuddered, sending small pebbles skittering across the floor.

A wind surged through the cave, an unnatural breeze that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. It whipped past us with a mournful howl, extinguishing my lantern and plunging us into an impenetrable darkness. The sudden loss of light was disorienting, the oppressive blackness pressing in from all sides.

I could hear Woods’ breathing beside me, quick and shallow, mirroring my own. The tremors grew stronger, shaking the very foundations of the cave. The statue before us began to glow faintly, its outline barely visible in the darkness.

Something’s happening, I thought to myself. I have a bad feeling about this.

The glow intensified, bathing the cave in green light. The walls seemed to ripple and warp as if reality itself was bending under immense power. The ground beneath us heaved and nearly knocked us off our feet.

Then, with a deafening roar, the cave was engulfed in a brilliant flash of light. I squeezed my eyes shut against the brightness, feeling raw energy wash over me. It was as if the very fabric of the world was being torn apart and reformed around me.

When the light finally dimmed, I dared to open my eyes. The cave was transformed. The once familiar stone walls were now covered in glowing, intricate runes, pulsing with a steady rhythm. A jagged crack snaked its way down the statue’s center, emitting a searing light that pierced the dimness of the cave like a knife. The brilliance was so intense that it felt like I was staring at the sun, its brilliance forcing me to shield my eyes with my hand. The crack widened, and the light grew even more blinding, filling the cave with an overwhelming radiance. My pulse raced, the sheer intensity of the moment nearly overwhelming my senses. The statue’s surface cracked like fractured glass, the magic threatening to consume everything around it. I tore my gaze away from the blinding light to glance at Woods. His face was a mask of concern. Our eyes met briefly, and I saw my own fear reflected in his gaze. A silent question passed between us: Was this supposed to happen?

I turned back to face the statue. The crackling energy filling the cave made the hair on my arms stand on end. The statue’s surface continued to fracture, pieces of stone falling away to reveal an even brighter, more intense light underneath.

Then, we heard a scream.