Chapter 7
I woke up to rain hammering the roof like a thousand pebbles thrown by Yoba Himself.
Dudley was curled up at the foot of the bed, tail flicking anxiously at every roll of thunder. I crouched down and rubbed his head until his tiny, frantic purr finally smoothed out.
Weather: Clear and sunny tomorrow.
Luck: Bad.
Great. As if yesterday didn’t give me enough bad omens.
I turned on the TV anyway.
“Greetings! It is I, the Queen of Sauce…”
She launched into a recipe about stir fry—sesame oil, ginger, garlic.
For thirty blissful seconds I let myself pretend the world was simple again.
Farm. Cat. Food. Rain.
Then reality hit the moment I checked my mailbox.
A thin envelope, sealed with purple wax.
My sources tell me you've been poking around inside the old Community Center.
Why don't you pay me a visit?
My chambers are west of the forest lake, in the stone tower.
I may have information concerning your… “rat problem.”
–
M. Rasmodius, Wizard
The Wizard.
Finally—
someone who might actually explain what the hell is going on in this town.
Lewis wouldn’t.
George barked half-truths.
Everyone else just dodged the subject.
If Pelican Town was hiding something, maybe this man in the tower wasn’t.
The stone tower rose above the forest like an old tooth, moss eating into its sides.
Thunder cracked, and for a moment I considered turning back.
But the door opened before I even touched it.
A man in purple robes and a pointed hat stood in the shadows. Hair and beard both a mess of violet.
“Ah. Come in,” he said, already sounding like he knew my answer.
I stepped into the dim, incense-thick air.
“I am
Rasmodius, seeker of arcane truths, mediator between—”
“Yeah, yeah, seven elements, cosmic truths, whatever.” I rubbed my temples. “Why did you call me here?”
His eyes glimmered.
“And you are Eric… the one whose arrival was foretold.”
“Oh, fantastic. You’re one of
those.”
He ignored the jab and flicked his fingers.
A green cube—the same one from the Community Center—materialized and spun in the air. I yelped.
“That! That thing! It scared me half to death the other day.”
“The
Junimo,” Rasmodius said. “Spirits of the valley. They refuse to speak with me, for reasons unknown.”
The creature blinked out of existence again, just like before.
“So, they’re harmless?” I asked.
“Harmless, yes. But not purposeless.”
“Okay, then what’s with the writing? On the scroll? Looked like… runes.”
Rasmodius actually paused.
Interesting.
“You found a golden scroll written in an unknown script?”
“Yeah. I thought Gunther might know, but it wouldn’t budge from the floor.”
He hummed. “Stay here. I must investigate.”
He vanished.
Just—gone.
No smoke, no flare. Just empty space.
I was still staring when the front door creaked open and he walked back in like he’d simply stepped out for groceries.
“I found the note,” he said. “And deciphered it.”
He recited:
We, the Junimo, are happy to aid you. In return we ask for gifts of the valley. If you are one with the forest, you will see the true nature of this scroll.
I frowned. “That’s it? No directions? No ‘how to be forest’ guide?”
“Patience,” he muttered. Then, “Come here.”
His cauldron bubbled in the center of the tower, radiating a green haze.
He stirred it with a long wooden spoon, the surface swirling like living fog.
“My cauldron contains the essence of the forest. Baby fern. Moss grub. Caramel-top toadstool.”
I gagged. “You’re going to make me drink that, aren’t you.”
“It is the only way to attune your senses. Drink.”
I stared at him.
Then at the brew.
Then back at him.
“…This better not kill me.”
I swallowed the whole cup.
Every instinct screamed
bad idea.
Within seconds, the room bent sideways.
Trees spiraled around me—floating, glowing, pulsing.
Every breath tasted like moss and lightning.
My knees buckled.
When my eyes opened, I was on the floor. Rasmodius hovered above me.
“You have gained the power of forest magic,” he said. “You can now read the Junimo’s scrolls.”
I groaned. “Could’ve warned me about the psychedelic part.”
“The Community Center will reveal its secrets to you. Restore what once was, and the spirits will aid you.”
I nodded, still dizzy. “Right. Bundles, offerings, got it.”
I turned to leave, but something clawed at the back of my mind.
“Wizard… can I ask one more thing?”
His expression shifted instantly.
The air grew heavier.
“You may.”
“One of the residents—George—he mentioned… a war. Something worse than the Ferngill–Gotoro conflict Jodi told me about. I tried asking Lewis, but he practically ran from the conversation. What happened?”
Rasmodius looked at me, really looked, and the theatrical wizard persona vanished.
“This is… dangerous knowledge,” he said quietly. “But you are already entangled.”
My mouth went dry.
“In the later years of the Ferngill–Gotoro War,” he began, “the Republic faced a crisis. A battalion went rogue—deserted—taking with them forbidden weapons and secrets. They became a threat greater than the enemy itself.”
My stomach twisted.
“In desperation, the Republic drafted anyone they could. Even men like Lewis—gentle, untrained, wholly unprepared.”
I swallowed hard. “And it went badly.”
“It was a massacre,” Rasmodius said. “Pelican Town lost more than it ever speaks of. The shame, the grief… they buried it. Even from newcomers.”
The room felt suddenly cold.
“What about my grandfather?” My voice shook. “Lewis never told me.”
“Your grandfather fled before the recruiters arrived. Joined a resistance faction. He fought not for Ferngill… but against the war itself.”
My chest tightened.
So that’s why Lewis avoided the topic.
Why the town looked away.
Why everything felt like half-truths and unfinished sentences.
“I… I need time to think,” I said.
“One more thing,” Rasmodius added sharply. “Tell no one you heard this. And speak nothing of this meeting. The town’s wounds are... delicate.”
I nodded numbly.
Then I left the tower, the rain washing the last of the forest taste from my mouth but doing nothing for the weight Rasmodius had placed on my shoulders.
I was making my way toward Town Square, cutting through the edge of the forest to pick a few stray spring onions. A request from Willy to catch an eel fluttered on the board outside his shack, and—right next to it—I saw the reminder.
Lewis’s birthday.
Emily’s advice echoed in my head, so I dug a daffodil out of my pack. Simple. Safe. And most importantly, something that wouldn’t make Rasmodius’s warning slip from my mouth by accident.
I found Lewis near the fountain.
“Hey, Lewis. Happy birthday.”
I held the daffodil out to him.
He brightened immediately. “Ah, you remembered the old mayor’s birthday. That’s very thoughtful of you. And it’s a lovely gift!”
“Thanks.”
He paused. His nose twitched—twice.
“
Sniff... sniff... Ah. You’ve been spending time in the old Community Center.”
My stomach tensed.
“It’s good to know someone’s taking care of the place,” he added softly.
“Yeah. I might as well do it,” I said, hoping the vagueness would cover the truth.
Lewis clapped his hands together suddenly. “Ah! I have to show you something.”
He led me toward a strange machine tucked near the bulletin board—bright red, bristling with little slots and blinking lights.
“I was just loading some more prizes into this thing…” he said proudly.
“What
is this?”
“It’s a new program I came up with,” Lewis said, straightening a little. “Something to promote goodwill among the townsfolk. You included!”
Something about the gleam in his eyes made my chest tighten. I didn’t want him to see how uneasy I was—how much I was hiding.
“It’s pretty simple,” he continued. “When you help others in town, you’ll receive a ‘Prize Ticket’. You can redeem them here. There’s some special stuff inside.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, trying to match his enthusiasm. My voice didn’t crack, thankfully.
“My only worry…” Lewis’s expression softened, the mayoral pride slipping into something more vulnerable, “is that people will chase the tickets instead of cultivating a real compassion for their fellow man.”
Something in his tone—tired, a little fragile—brought back my grandfather’s letter. The one that had changed everything.
I’d lost sight of what mattered most—real connections with people and the natural world…
I swallowed hard.
“Lewis… I get it,” I said quietly. “I’ll do everything I can to help this community. Not for the tickets. For them.”
For you, too, I almost added.
He blinked, then smiled—small, warm, hesitant, as if he didn’t quite believe he deserved the reassurance.
“Is that so? Well… I’m glad to hear that.”
He patted the side of the machine. “Anyway—keep an eye on the Help Wanted board. It’s a good way to earn tickets. And to meet folks.”
“Will do.”
I started to leave, but Lewis called after me.
“Eric?”
I turned.
“Good luck out there,” he said. “And… make your grandfather proud.”
The words hit me right in the ribcage.
I nodded.
“I will.”
I spotted Sebastian slipping out of the mountain path.
“H-hey! Where are you going?” I called after him.
He didn’t answer—didn’t even flinch.
Then he bolted.
I chased him all the way to the beach, but when he finally stopped, he didn’t look at me. He just stared at the dark water.
“You ever think the ocean is a place best left alone?” he asked quietly.
There was something in his voice—hollow, maybe afraid—but I couldn’t make sense of it. I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
I had no answer he’d want to hear.
So, I let him go and set up my fishing rod.
The stiffness from Rasmodius’s warning still clung to me, threading into every muscle. And Lewis—his hope in me, his trust—pulled the other way. Two responsibilities, supposedly aligned, but tearing different parts of me.
I wanted to talk to someone. Anyone.
But instead I caught an eel. And Leah’s seaweed.
Useful, but none of it eased the weight in my chest.
The Saloon lights were warm when I stepped inside, but somehow the room still felt cold.
Lewis sat at the counter, shoulders rounded, staring into nothing. That didn’t help.
A big, frosted cake sat on display—his birthday cake, clearly—but the sight only made my stomach tighten.
“Oh, hey there, Eric!” Gus called out. “Look who’s back! We thought you’d died down in the mines!”
He laughed. A few others followed.
Emily didn’t. She kept her head low, blue hair hiding everything I suddenly wanted to read.
Everyone else was present—Leah, Harvey, Shane, Willy—trying their best to pretend things were normal.
“Ah, Willy—your eel. Leah, your seaweed,” I said, handing over the items.
They thanked me, but with Lewis watching, the whole thing felt staged, like I was trying to act like myself instead of being myself.
Leah covered her mouth like she was suppressing a laugh.
“Hello, Eric!” Harvey waved. “You feeling better from that accident?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on, Harvey!” Leah groaned. “Don’t ruin the moment!”
He flinched.
He glanced at me again. “Er… did you read anything interesting at the library today?”
“No. Didn’t get the chance.”
Leah stepped closer. “Hey, did you know it was Lewis’s birthday?”
“Yes. I already gave him a daffodil.”
“There’s some cake over there! Help yourself—it’s free, right Gus?”
He nodded.
I took a piece and sat next to Lewis.
He glanced up—not accusing, just… weary.
Like the celebration was something happening to him instead of for him.
The cake felt heavy. I forced down each bite.
Across the room, Emily stood stiff as a board, pale. Shane watched me with the irritation of someone whose night had just been ruined.
The walls felt too close.
“Er, this is great, but I’ve got to go,” I muttered, packing my bag.
A chorus of “See you, Eric!” followed as I headed for the door.
Emily froze. She didn’t call after me.
And for some reason… that bothered me more than anything else in the room.
I spent the rest of the night breaking stones outside my house, hoping for geodes—anything to keep my hands busy while my thoughts spun in circles I couldn’t break out of.
I wanted to talk.
I wanted to trust someone.
But with everything I’d learned, I felt locked inside myself.
I went to bed early.
Maybe tomorrow will hurt less.
Maybe tomorrow, I’ll feel like I belong again.
