Weeks earlier, the day of the Goddess’ wrath…
Woods jolted upright, gasping—but no breath came. No air filled his lungs. No heartbeat thundered in his ears.
He froze.
The cave around him was eerily silent—so quiet it felt deafening. The kind of silence that swallowed sound, that made the air feel thick and heavy, pressing in from all sides. There was no distant drip of water, no rustle of unseen life. Just a vast, hollow emptiness.
The world itself felt wrong, too empty, like something had been ripped from it. The shadows stretched too far, clinging to the walls like they were alive, watching. Waiting.
He felt nothing—no aches, no weight, not even the familiar strain of existence. He felt nothing at all. Nothing but an echo of fear. Something bad had happened, but he couldn’t remember what. He glanced down at himself, a cold dread spreading over him as he did so.
His body was gone. In its place, darkness curled like a living shadow. His form—if it could even be called that—was a shifting mass of inky blackness, an unstable silhouette barely clinging to its shape. The edges of him bled outward like smoke caught in a breeze, tendrils of shadow dissolving into the surrounding gloom. He wasn’t just standing in the dark. He was the dark.
A terrible realization dawned on him.
He had seen this before.
Corruption.
The being he fought against his whole life. The creature that had spread across Sagewood like a sickness. The monster that had swallowed the land whole, twisting it into a shadow of itself. The thing that he had become.
A shudder wracked his form, but it wasn’t a true shiver—he no longer had muscles to tense, skin to prickle. He reached up, pressing phantom fingers to his face, expecting to feel the sharp planes of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone. But there was nothing. Just more shadow, more emptiness.
He staggered to his feet—too light, too fluid, his movements carrying an unnatural grace that sent another wave of nausea through his mind. The cave around him loomed in warped familiarity, like looking at Matt’s farm through a cracked mirror. The edges of the stone blurred and twisted, reality itself seeming to bend as if recoiling from him.
Sagewood. Was he still in Sagewood? Had he ever left? The memory was there, just beyond reach, slipping through his grasp like water through his fingers.
Matt.
They’d been together. Searching. For something important. But now—
Woods turned sharply, scanning the cave. Matt was nowhere. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating despite the absence of breath in his lungs. Why was he alone? What had happened?
Then he felt it.
Something cold. Heavy. Anchored in his hand.
Slowly, Woods lifted it, staring at the object nestled in his shadowy grip. A stone. Dark and swirling, its surface slick and shifting like oil. Purple energy crackled across its surface, familiar in a way that made his insides twist.
The corruption stone.
Recognition slammed into him like a hammer.
And suddenly, Woods wasn’t just standing in a cave—he was standing on the precipice of something far worse.
He had to find Matt.
Woods stepped out of the cave, and an unshakeable sadness settled over him, thick as a funeral shroud. The landscape before him was familiar, yet wrong—colors leeched of vibrancy, the sky smeared with a sickly, unnatural hue. Even the air felt off, pulsing with a discordant energy that made his very essence recoil. A world drained. A world ruined.
“Where am I?” he muttered, his words swallowed by the heavy silence. He wandered through this twisted imitation of his world, hoping to find Matt, or one of the sprites, or anything that made sense.
“Matt,” he whispered into the stifling silence, his voice trembling. “Where are you?”
Had he been too late? Had the Goddess twisted reality while he slept?
He stopped in the middle of the path, dread unfurling in his chest. Slept? That wasn’t right. He hadn’t been sleeping. His mind clawed at the edges of memory, searching the moments in the cave, before the darkness. Why had he been there? Why did everything feel so distant, so unreal?
Then, a thought struck him—sharp, undeniable.
He hadn’t been asleep.
He had died.
Memories of the moments before his death came crashing back. Matt. The Goddess. The storm. A desperate search for answers. A last stand against something unstoppable.
His gaze snapped to the stone in his hand—black as obsidian, its surface swallowing the dim light like a void that had no end. The corruption stone. His fingers tightened around it. Why did he have it?
A cold, suffocating weight settled in his chest as he glanced around the dead landscape of Sagewood. He had fought to stop this. He’d tried everything to keep this from happening.
And yet, here he was. He’d failed. There was nothing more to be done. A great sense of disappointment settled over him as he took in the bleakness of his new reality.
This was not the afterlife he had hoped for.
He had spent centuries yearning to see the other sprites, aching for the moment he would see the faces of those he had lost—the friends stolen too soon, the companions whose laughter still echoed in the hollow spaces of his memory. He had longed to see his wife again, to hold her hand, to hear her voice, to tell her all the things he never had the chance to say. But she was not here. None of them were. And the terrible, aching silence of their absence made the weight of eternity feel unbearable. Instead, he was alone in this distorted, haunted world, surrounded by shadows.
Suddenly, a bright flash of light pierced the darkness, drawing his attention. It was coming from the direction of the village of Sagewood. Numbly, he followed it. Maybe he’d find the others there.
He walked quickly, his feet carrying him down a path that felt both familiar and foreign. The light ahead drew him forward, flickering with an unnatural brilliance, and as he reached its source, his stomach twisted.
There, looming in the distance, she stood amidst a vengeful storm. The Goddess. Her wrath pouring out in waves as she tore through Sagewood with merciless fury. Buildings crumbled beneath unseen hands, fields withered in an instant, the air itself seemed to wail in protest.
He watched in horror.
Why could he see her so clearly?
The world around him was thin, a warped reflection of the reality he had once known. And yet, she was there, vivid and terrible. But where were the people of Sagewood? Where were the sprites?
His breath hitched.
Had he been the only one to die?
And now, was he nothing more than a spectator to the end of the world?
Woods forced himself to truly see the world around him. Not just the shadows, not just the familiar-yet-wrong landscape, but the nature of it. The air shimmered, thick with something unseen, something powerful. The hills curved just a little too sharply, the trees swayed without wind. The colors—faded, blurred at the edges—weren’t the colors of the world he knew.
This wasn’t Sagewood. Not really.
It was a shadow of it. A reflection. A realm layered over his home, stitched together with magic he didn’t understand. He wasn’t dead. He was somewhere else.
His gaze snapped back to the Goddess. She moved with purpose, with fury, as though she existed in both realms at once. It was as if she was pulling magic from this realm to unleash into the other.
Woods blinked. He wasn’t in the afterlife, but some magical shadow realm of Sagewood. But why had he been pulled into this realm?
The answer lingered at the edge of his mind, waiting for him to grasp it.
Before he could react, a ghostly figure manifested beside him, speaking in a raspy, familiar voice.
“I wondered when you’d accept the full power of your corruption,” said the figure, its pallid eyes locking onto Woods.
Woods staggered back, horror mingling with disbelief. “Corruption?” he whispered. Indeed, the very being he’d killed years ago stood before him now.
Could Corruption attack him in this realm? They seemed to be made of the same stuff now, both shadows of their former selves. But how was this possible? He had killed Corruption all those years ago. How could he be standing here, speaking to him?
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Now that you’re here, I can finally be free,” the ghostly figure murmured, his voice fading like a distant echo. “I’ve been the keeper of this shadow realm, tethered to it for years, with no way back to the real world and no power to move onto the next.” Corruption began to fade, like a shadow dissolving in the light of dawn.
“What do you mean by that?” Woods asked, confused.
Corruption’s outline flickered, his pallid eyes locking onto Woods as he continued. “This world has always been divided into two realms: the magical and the physical. Most beings live in the physical world, drawing magic from this one,” Corruption explained, his voice carrying a note of resignation rather than blame. “When you killed me in the physical realm, I became trapped here, living a half-existence, yearning for the release of death.” Despite the gravity of his words, there was no malice in Corruption’s tone, only a weary acceptance.
Corruption’s gaze drifted back to the Goddess, whose magic had taken the form of a raging tornado, uprooting trees, flowers, and breaking buildings apart, reducing them to rubble. There was a deep sadness in Corruption’s fading expression as he added quietly, “She’s angry because of the choices I made while I still had power in the physical realm.”
Woods turned his attention to the Goddess, “Why is she destroying Sagewood?”
“She’s looking for the stone you hold in your hand.”
Woods’ fingers clenched around the corruption stone, the jagged edges biting into his palm—not that he could feel it. He barely noticed the pressure, his attention locked on the devastation before him.
The Goddess moved with forces of nature, her wrath tearing through the land with effortless cruelty. She’d focused her efforts on a field just outside of Sagewood. The site of the annual Sagewood horse race. Now, it was unrecognizable. The earth split apart yet again yawning open like an old wound torn fresh. Trees toppled like snapped twigs, their roots grasping at the air before vanishing into the abyss. Massive boulders, once unmoving sentinels of the land, crumbled and tumbled into the chasm without a sound, swallowed whole. The cracks in the earth spread like jagged fingers, stretching hungrily toward the nearby houses, splitting the ground beneath them with a sickening groan.
Woods swallowed hard. He had seen destruction before. But this—this wasn’t destruction. This was erasure.
Corruption cleared his throat, bringing Woods’ attention back to him. “I should let you know, I have borne the name Corruption since the Goddess was imprisoned. But know this: my true name was Balance, and that name, with its many burdens, now falls to you.”
Woods blinked. Balance? He thought. As in… the balance of magic? Of nature? Corruption was quickly fading, but before he could, Woods asked, “You said before that you could travel back to the physical realm. Can I do that?”
Corruption smiled a sad, almost wistful smile. “If you use the corruption stone, you may return to the physical realm,” it had said, “but beware: the Goddess will come for you, and her wrath is unyielding. If you value your life, you won’t let her have it.”
And with that, Corruption vanished, leaving Woods alone in the suffocating darkness. His mind filled with hundreds of questions. Corruption’s real name was Balance? He could move between realms, but the Harvest Goddess would try and take the corruption stone? What would happen if she got it? Woods swallowed hard, closing his hand around the stone. It seemed it was his one bargaining chip against an all-powerful goddess.
The weight of everything he’d lost pressed down on him, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. It was only after a long, slow moment that the realization hit him yet again—he wasn’t breathing. Not at all. He was a spirit, like Corruption had been. His physical body had died, and there was no way of getting it back. No way to return to the life he had known.
But he could return to the physical realm. If he did, could he stop the Goddess? Or was she capable of killing him a second time, snuffing out this strange existence before he even understood what it meant?
The burden of this new reality crushed him, an unbearable weight dragging him under. Corruption’s final words still eluded him. What had he meant?
Woods looked down at the stone in his hand. The Corruption Stone. The darkness of it seemed deeper than before, shifting, alive in a way the other nature stones had never been.
He could give it to the Goddess. End this destruction.
But at what cost?
Something inside him whispered the truth before he could push the thought away. This stone wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t a gift to be handed over freely like the other nature stones. It had to be taken. And if he lost it... if it was torn from him… he would cease to exist.
Could I return to the physical realm with this stone? How?
The shadows within the stone shifted and swirled, as if reacting to his unvoiced questions.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the world around him burst into life. Colors flooded back into existence, garish and overwhelming. He staggered, disoriented by the sudden shift. He was near the heart of the town of Sagewood, the buildings coming into focus. He’d somehow travelled through the shadow realm from the cave on Matt’s property, all the way to the town’s square.
Though the familiar landscape of the town surrounded him once more, he felt incredibly out of place. He looked down at himself, only to see an inky silhouette, still bearing the haunting resemblance to Corruption.
The Goddess halted suddenly, abandoning her pursuit of destruction. She turned with deliberate slowness, her eyes narrowing into venomous slits as she locked onto Woods. The tornado she controlled dissipated instantly, its destructive force snuffed out as if it had never been. Debris crashed around her, falling from the sky until all was quiet.
Her gaze was cold, merciless, as if she could see right through him, and every bit of fury in her was directed at him. A chill of dread swept through Woods as she advanced toward him, each step deliberate. With each stride, the earth trembled and scorched beneath her.
Woods’ mind raced, a jumble of conflicting emotions. This was the being he had been taught to revere his entire life, the one he had fought to free. Yet, here she stood, poised to strike him down without a moment’s hesitation.
Woods stood his ground, rooted to the spot by a mixture of awe and terror. As she drew near, he could feel the corruption within him recoiling, as if trying to hide from her righteous anger.
Just as Woods braced himself for the inevitable, the Goddess halted abruptly. Her eyes, blazing with divine rage, fixed on him. The fury in her expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of... was it recognition? Confusion?
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The Goddess and Woods locked in a silent standoff, the corruption stone humming gently in Woods’ closed palm. The air buzzed with tension, the fate of Sagewood hanging in the balance of this unexpected confrontation.
The Harvest Goddess’ eyes narrowed, her voice like the boom of thunder. “Corruption. I didn’t recognize you after all these centuries of imprisonment.”
Woods blinked. The Goddess thought he was Corruption? That... didn’t make sense. Wasn’t there a pretty significant height difference between world-ending entities and, well, him?
He glanced down at himself again, a slow, creeping unease settling over him. His silhouette didn’t resemble Corruption—not exactly. The form was still sprite-like. The rough outline of Woods remained, blurred and shifting, but unmistakably his own. And yet...
Maybe the Goddess couldn’t see the difference. Maybe, to her, all that mattered was the substance—the dark, twisting magic that now made up his very being.
“I’ve been freed from your imprisonment that you trapped me in all those centuries ago,” she extended her hand, palm open and expectant, “According to our deal, when I am freed, you must yield the corruption stone and all the power it contains.”
Woods shifted, his shadowy form flickering under the weight of her gaze as he slipped the stone back into his pocket, hoping she wouldn’t notice. He’d made no such deal. He wasn’t even alive when she was imprisoned, and no agreement could bind him to promises he’d never made.
“I... don’t really know what you’re talking about,” he said, honest confusion in his voice. “And I don’t think you have the right person.”
The Goddess’s stare hardened, her expression incredulous. “Are you not Corruption, the spirit I fought centuries ago? You imprisoned me—remember?”
“Oh... no, that wasn’t me. I’m Woods. I’m just a sprite. Or, at least, I used to be,” he chuckled awkwardly, trying to break the tension. “Actually, I killed Corruption a few years back. Well, at least in the physical realm.”
Her face twisted in confusion, the rage momentarily changing into something else. “A sprite? You’re not—” But her fury quickly reignited when Woods’ words settled in. “You killed Corruption?”
Woods instinctively stepped back, regretting his admission. “Yes, uh, he was destroying everything—the forest, the spirits, my family. The land was drowning in corrupt magic, and I... well, I had to stop him.”
Her eyes narrowed, glowing with divine anger. “You fool! He was the keeper of balance—the keeper of the corruption stone!”
Woods barely had time to react before she thrust her hand forward, sending a wave of pure nature magic at him. His hand was still closed around the stone in his pocket, and he thought of the shadow realm. Instantly he was transported back to the mundane plane where’d he’d been moments before. The nature magic, full of cackling green energy mirroring the Goddess’ wrath itself, passed him by harmlessly.
The Goddess shrieked in frustration as her eyes searched the very spot Woods stood, as if she were unable to see him. Perhaps, she couldn’t see into the shadow realm.
Woods smiled as an idea crossed his mind.
His shadowy sprite form melted away, replaced by the massive bulk of a corrupted bear, purple energy crackling across his now midnight-black fur.
“That stone belongs to me!” the Goddess roared, her eyes still searching for Woods. “Without someone to balance, magic runs wild!”
Woods stepped between realms, appearing before her in her fury. He had faced the wrath of monstrous things before—creatures that could unmake a man with a thought. He had weathered tantrums from beings far mightier than most, mediated countless quarrels, and navigated the turbulent moods of personalities that would have broken lesser souls. One furious goddess? He could probably manage that. Or he’d die trying.
“I’m not giving you the stone, or any of its power,” Woods replied, narrowly dodging another blast of her magic. “I understand now. I’ve seen what unbalanced magic does.” He swiped away a tangle of vines she sent his way. “But destroying Sagewood won’t fix anything.”
She hurled bolt after bolt of searing green energy. “You’ve doomed us all with your carelessness!”
Woods barely managed to catch the blast, his corrupted claws closing around the searing energy. It burned through him like acid, but he gritted his teeth and absorbed it, feeling the raw power coil inside him like a caged beast. He had to remember that magical attacks could still harm him.
“There might be another way—” he started, but the ground beneath him cracked. A jagged fissure split open, swallowing him whole.
Reflex took over. He reached for the memory of the shadow realm, let it pull him in, and suddenly, he wasn’t falling—he was hovering. Suspended in the darkness, watching the pit stretch endlessly below him. The void yawned, waiting, hungry, but he stood above it in the shadows.
He drifted to the edge and willed himself back into the physical realm, stepping out of the shadows like a phantom slipping through the veil.
He now understood how Corruption seemed so powerful all those years. Corruption had always eluded him, slipping through cracks in reality, vanishing just when Woods thought he had him pinned. And now, Woods knew why. He had become the very thing he once hunted. His own corruption, the terrible event that had shattered his life and left scars on the people he loved, had brought him here—to this half-life between realms, neither truly alive nor truly dead.
As he reappeared, the Goddess’ expression darkened. Her fury burned hotter than before, her hands tightening into fists. She had realized the truth.
Her enemy was nearly untouchable. Maybe she’d finally listen to Woods.
“There’s a farmer—Matt Miller—in Sagewood. He’s been working to balance the magic through his crops.”
The Goddess hesitated, her eye’s still seething with ferocity. “A mortal? Managing divine magic?”
“He’s the one who freed you,” Woods said, choosing his words carefully. He had to make her understand. “His farm acts as a conduit. If we focus there—if we work together—we can restore balance.”
The Goddess glared at him. “And why should I trust the creature who killed Corruption and took over his power?”
Woods didn’t flinch under her piercing gaze. “Because right now, what choice do we have? What choice do you have? Killing me would only make things worse.”
The Goddess’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that, sprite?”
Woods lowered his voice, speaking with deliberate calm. “I’m the last corrupt being left. If you kill me, there will be no counterbalance to the wild magic. The imbalance will only grow.”
A tense silence settled between them, the weight of his words sinking in.
The Goddess finally spoke, her voice laced with skepticism. “And how is it possible that a mere human freed me from my imprisonment?”
Woods hesitated as he shifted back into his shadowed sprite form. Then, slowly, he smiled.
“Matt’s not just any human. He’s from a place called Earth. Phoenix, to be exact.” He let the words settle, then added, almost amused, “I didn’t see it before, but I do now—Matt Miller is the very person this world needed. A farmer, of all things. Small, insignificant… yet exactly the piece that was missing. The person that will help us rise from the ashes of the old, reborn into something new.”