“This was a mistake.”
“Yeah. It’s not too late to go back. Maybe get a job at the library?”
I scowl. Their words make my blood boil. The library is no place for someone like me! What a preposterous idea. An insult.
But…she might have a point.
We stand beside my field, surveying the wild landscape. Overgrown weeds. Boulders and logs. A tiny, sad little patch of radishes.
And holes. So many holes.
They dot the landscape like craters in an alien world.
Maybe this is a failure. Maybe I really should move back into town…
“Y’all are right.” A sigh leaves my lips. “Farming is tough. It’s a foolish dream.”
“But you’re a fine builder. There’s talent in those hands.” Dahlia moves in, patting my back.
I flash a weak smile. She’s a stocky young lady with determined eyes and hair pulled into a practical bun. She understands hard work. When the weather warms, she leaves the village, traveling the continent and returning with rare goods. A woman born to be a merchant—born with talent.
What talents do I have?
“Or you could go work with Brom. He’s still getting his farm started.” Clara gives an encouraging nod. “But believe me, you’re no worse than he is. I worry he’ll be dead by the end of Frostwhisper. More muscle than sense, that one.”
Clara is an enigma. Kind eyes but a sharp tongue, she doesn’t have time for failure. Dressed in overalls and heavy leather boots, she’s fit to be a farmer too. I suppose that’s how most of us are though. Unlike folks in the city up north, we’re a practical bunch—raised by the land.
City slickers poke fun at us, but they best remember who grows their food…
“Well, look at that. You summoned him.” Dahlia squints, peering up the hill outside my property.
“Oh no.” Clara grimaces.
A young man races down the dirt path, arms flailing. He’s a wiry fellow with wild brown hair and tattered clothes. He wears a wide grin. His feet catch a loose stone, nearly sending him tumbling.
“Hey! Hey!” He waves.
It’s Brom.
My closest friend.
Well, maybe that’s pushing it. We grew up together in the village though, and we’re certainly no strangers. He claimed land north of town, and I claimed a plot down south—dueling farms.
“How goes it?” I wave while he screeches to a halt, panting like a dragon.
“I…you…he said…!” Hands on his knees, Brom gasps for air, large brown eyes flipping between us.
Whatever message he’s trying to deliver, it’s not making any sense.
“And then…monsters…wait. Are those radishes?” He perks up, eyes fixating on my field.
“Oh, yeah. Finally sprouted.” I shrug.
“No way!” He trots into the dirt, flinging his arms wide. “Your first crop! A maiden voyage! Taming the land!”
He’s right. Nestled amidst the sea of thorny weeds is a tender little patch. Planted in tidy rows, the radishes bask in the sun, drinking deep of its energy.
“Heh.” I stand up straight. “See, ladies? At least someone believes in me. Y’all are too harsh.”
“What’s with all the holes though?” Brom whirls around, staring at the craters.
“Been trying to dig a well. No luck though.” My brows furrow. “It’s a problem. I can’t keep hauling water from the river.”
“Hmmm…” Brom strokes his chin, deep in thought. “Have you heard of water-sniffing gophers? You can buy ‘em in the city! If you want a well, you just gotta buy critters attuned to water magic. Maybe a fish would work! Can we teach a fish to smell water?”
“By the gods…” Clara looks up at the sky, exasperated. “Brom, is that why you came all the way out here? Needed to share more of your farming wisdom?”
“Oh, Miss Clara…didn’t see ya there.” Brom looks away, cheeks turning pink. “Erm, no. Gaius sent me.”
“Gaius?” I perk up. “You’re running errands for the mayor now?”
“N-no, not exactly. He wants people to stop by the village square. There’s a visitor in town. A visitor! When was the last time a traveler stopped in our valley? I reckon it’s been at least three seasons! And you’ve gotta see him, Willem! He’s got monsters. Monsters!”
Brom hops up and down, arms trembling.
Dahlia’s eyes widen. Clara flashes a skeptical expression.
“Did you say…monsters?” My eyes narrow, darting across the field.
My little farm is nestled along the edge of the Rainsong Woods. The lower woodlands are picturesque—dew crystals hanging from branches, wild berry bushes, and jiggly forest slimes out for afternoon strolls.
But as the forest rises into the mountains, it changes. Trees grow dark and dense. Strange creatures prowl. Our valley is beautiful, but there are places we never go. The elders warn us. Their elders warned them. As far back as anyone can remember.
Such is life in the Village of Verda—beauty at the world’s edge.
“That’s right.” Brom nods with gusto, hair flopping on his forehead. “He’s from up north—a treasure hunter from Galanta!”
“Really?” Clara’s cold expression melts, replaced with raw curiosity.
“Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” Dahlia puts her hands on her hips. “What’re we waiting for? Let’s go!”
The journey begins. Trekking to the hill’s crest, an ocean of greenery unfurls, grass swaying under the blue sky. A breeze carries the floral, bitter scent of pollen while we walk the dirt road. The sun shines bright—not a cloud to be seen. I can’t help but breathe deep, absorbing the clean, warm air. My ears tilt, listening to the cry of an airborne creature.
High overhead, a butterfly the size of a falcon flutters, its orange wings square and symmetrical. Its long, curly mouthpiece emits a deep coo, booming over the peaceful grasslands. It’s a cubeflapper, and it’s not alone.
Down near the grass, bees larger than pigeons buzz between wildflowers. Black and red stripes adorn their bodies. They’re nectarflies, and they’re a fixture in our valley—perfect pollinators. They’re docile unless you threaten their crystalline nests. One of these days, I want to buy my own hive. Just think of it…Willem the Beekeeper!
A fine addition to the farm, indeed.
“Yessir, I’ll be heading south next week. Gotta get moving now the weather is warm.” Dahlia prattles away, speaking more to herself than anyone in particular.
This is how it goes each year. Seedtide is a time of change and rebirth. The first season, it’s when wildflowers bloom and villagers make big plans.
As the year wears on, the seasons will shift, ushering in Sunburst—my favorite. It’s a heavy, hot season. It’s prime weather for lounging on the beach and chomping into juicy melons. But now that I’m farming, it’ll be a challenge. I’ll need to buy a hat…
And when Sunburst fades, Harvestmoon arrives. It’s a strange time of year. Sure, the red and orange leaves are pretty, but the world becomes…odd. The spirit realm grows close, resulting in unsettling, unpredictable events.
And finally, Frostwhisper comes, heralding the year’s end. Snow piles in the valley, barricading villagers in their homes. The lakes and rivers freeze over. The forest grows silent. It’s a dreamy, sleepy season. The perfect time to sip hot cocoa with cinnamon…
“Where ya goin’ this year?” Brom asks.
“El’sor.” Dahlia perks up. “A journey through the desert! There’s a bloke named Darren who’s got a shipment waiting for me. He’s a southern crop merchant! Now that we have new farmers, I wanna get my hands on rare seeds.”
“Will we get a friends-and-family discount?” His eyes light up.
“Nope.” She grins and gives him a nudge.
Yes, a Seedtide stroll with the crew. I look up at the sky, sun warming my cheeks. Time seems to slow on afternoons like this—moments that can last forever.
The road carves through the countryside, passing the crossroads to Varian Farm and Moonberry Vineyards. I’m on good terms with the Moonberry family, but the Varian Clan…they’re something else entirely. To be frank, I’m not thrilled about setting up shop so close.
But there’s no time to dwell on that. Far in the distance, a flash of sapphire blue catches my attention.
Our valley is a bowl, enclosed on all sides by soaring, craggy gray mountains. North of the village, the centerpiece stands tall—the grand waterfall. Even from this distance, its foamy, roaring stream is visible. It rains from the tallest mountain peak, emitting a low rumble. It’s a work of art—a hidden gem in our corner of the continent.
“Y’all headin’ ta town?” a voice calls out while we walk.
Pastures divide the rolling green hills, leading up to a big red barn. It’s Cain’s ranch—the town beastmaster.
The man waves, black beard fluttering in the breeze. His dark skin is wrinkled and weathered like the hide of a tortoise. He sits on a stool, running a brush through the coat of a shaggy, horned creature—a woolly brahmen. An entire herd meanders through the field, drifting like fluffy clouds through the sky.
“You bet, Cain!” Brom waves. “Ya comin’?! We got a visitor!”
“Bah!” He waves a hand. “I don’t got time for no city folk! But if he needs work, I’ll pay him to shovel dung!”
He lets out a cackle. It slices through the air.
Cain is a stern fellow. Rough around the edges but kind once you get to know him. That ranch has been in his family for generations. It’s his baby.
It’s a common theme in our valley. Most folk are descended from the original settlers—humans who tamed the land and built a sanctuary. Well, for the most part. They weren’t perfect. Things haven’t always been easy here…
“Almost there!” Brom skips while Verda comes into view.
It’s a plain little village with thatched roofs and chimneys puffing light smoke. At one edge, a white building rises like a spire—the Etherbloom Chapel.
But that’s not our destination. At the town center, a bell tower stretches high. That’s where folks gather whenever something big happens. Well, there or the tavern.
Walking atop cobblestone streets, we glance around. It’s unusually quiet. Everyone must be at the plaza.
Our pace accelerates, excitement percolating into our legs. We pass little homes and shops with visible timberwork. Boxes rest under the windows, growing colorful flowers and herbs. We pass the bakery, the scent of fresh bread wafting out the open door.
I salivate, resisting the urge to grab a snack.
At last, we arrive.
A tiled plaza sprawls, leading up to the town hall and its stone bell tower. It casts a long shadow over the crowd, their voices jumbled while folks shout questions.
We press in, wading through the commotion.
“He sniffs treasure? Yer lyin’!”
“Is it safe to look her in the eye?”
“Is it true there are giants in Galanta? Have you ever seen one?!”
Villagers hurl queries while the stranger comes into view. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever seen.
Tall and sturdy, he’s got a blocky face dusted with light stubble. Sleek black hair is pulled into a ponytail, contrasting his ivory skin—so pale it’s nearly translucent.
His masculine frame sports strange, foreign garb. Brown leather blends with copper armor adorned with practical rivets. Glass goggles rest on his forehead, the frames augmented with visible gears and energy crystals. A broadsword is strapped to his back, the hilt supporting odd mechanical knobs and buttons. A utility belt hugs his waist, potion bottles and a silver pocket watch dangling.
But his unusual attire is only the beginning. There’s something far stranger here.
A brown orb of fur rests at his feet. While villagers speak, it shudders, unfurling to expose a narrow, foxlike face with beady eyes.
It meets my gaze, blinking and cocking its head. Its arms stretch, revealing black, glassy claws that shine like obsidian. It yawns, teeth made of the same material.
“Yeeeee!” A bizarre screech pulls my gaze upward. I stagger back.
Drifting above the traveler, an eldritch beast stares down with a smile. The size of my head, it’s nothing more than a sphere—a green eye with leathery bat wings. Along its lower portion, a narrow mouth hangs open, a forked tongue licking spiky teeth.
It blinks and bounces while it flaps. Its smile widens while it pants. A truly strange thing…is it terrifying or adorable? I can’t tell…
“W-what is that?!” Words blurt from my mouth.
“Oh, you like her?” The stranger lifts an arm, allowing the monstrosity to perch on his sleeve with its tiny clawed feet. “Her name’s Ivy. Get it? Eye-vee!”
He flashes a wide grin.
I scowl.
“And this little guy is Crag.” He nudges the fluffy critter with his boot. It wiggles its stubby tail.
“And you?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Ivan. Ivan Duskflame. And this is my son, Viktor.”
He steps aside. I didn’t realize there’s someone else. Frozen like a statue, a young boy stands draped in a heavy green cloak. He shares his father’s dark hair, but he’s thin and fragile. His eyes are glazed and distant—raw, profound boredom. Like he’s watching paint dry. Does this happen in every village they visit?
“Please, everyone! Give the man some space!” Mayor Gaius shuffles to the front, his wispy white beard fluttering in the breeze. “I’m sure he’s very tired. Allow him to rest!”
“Ah, it’s fine, sir. I’m happy to meet the locals.” Ivan’s voice is deep and calm. “But…my son might be ready to retire for the day.”
“Yes, Father. This place is so…deprived.” The boy’s voice is soft and dreamy. “There’s no treasure in a place like this.”
My jaw drops.
“Hmpf. Viktor, you’ve got a long way to go. You’ll never be a treasure hunter with an attitude like that.” Ivan gives the crowd an embarrassed smile. “My apologies. His manners need work.”
“Sir, might I show you to your room? It’s above the tavern.” A village boy steps forward. Brown hair slicked back, he’s got a refined aura that contrasts his age. It’s Jasper—son of the tavernkeep.
“Yes, yes. I suppose it’s time. A pleasure meeting you all.” Ivan lifts a hand and waves. “We’ll be here for a few days, gathering supplies and preparing to journey into the southern deserts. Your town is a welcome sanctuary—the perfect place to recharge.”
The crowd disperses, excited voices muttering about the new arrival.
“He must be traveling to El’sor,” Dahlia whispers. “Maybe I could tag along…?”
“My dear boy, what is this?” Ivan stops at the plaza’s center while Jasper leads him away.
He gazes up at columns of crumbling stone—the village core. Ancient pillars encircle four pedestals and a swirling symbol drawn on the ground. Faint, wispy beams rise around the pedestals, billowing like tendrils of smoke. They glitter and dance, refracting the sun’s light.
It’s a place sacred to all in the valley.
“It’s called ‘the wellspring’, sir. It’s the valley’s heart—a place where its icons once stood.” Jasper lowers his eyes in reverence.
“Icons?” Ivan perks up, flashing a glance at Viktor. “You mean…artifacts?”
“That’s right. It’s a story told by the elders. When the first settlers of Verda arrived, four icons stood around the wellspring. Each represented a different element—fire, earth, water, and air. Their powers enriched the valley, allowing our village to grow and flourish…but over time, each icon vanished. Nobody knows where they came from or where they went. They’re just…gone. And so are their blessings.”
“Lost power…” Viktor mutters.
“Treasure beyond belief.” Ivan strokes his chin.
“Yeeeee!” Ivy lets out a shrill screech, perching atop a pillar.
“Rooooorg.” Crag flops onto his side, eyes closing for a nap.
I linger while Dhalia, Brom, and Clara depart. I vanish behind a pillar, eavesdropping.
“Now tell me, boy, are there clues? Any leads on where the artifacts vanished to?” Ivan asks.
“No, sir. Nothing. But if you could find them, you’d be a hero. A legend.”
“Your little town is in luck. Ivan Duskflame leaves no stone unturned! No chest filled! No lock unpicked!” He eyes the glowing pillars while a smile curls on his lips. “Come now, take me to my chambers.”
---
Author's Note25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX9OeH8xzum
Hi there! This story is a free prequel to my series, Creature Farm (on Amazon, Kindle Unlimited, and Audible). It takes place ~50 years before the main books and follows the elderly characters on an adventure in their younger years. 25Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpEwsKmhtaY
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