Chapter 18
I woke up with only one clear thought pressing against the inside of my skull.
I need to talk to Rasmodius.
It wasn’t a calm realization. It felt more like the kind of thought that wakes you up before sunrise and refuses to let you go back to sleep. The kind that sits on your chest until you deal with it.
The farmhouse was quiet. Dudley was still curled up near the pale, tail wrapped around himself like a question mark.
Outside, the morning air smelled like damp soil and spring grass — normal, peaceful, everything Pelican Town always pretended to be.
I stepped out to check the crops.
The cauliflower had finished growing overnight, heavy white heads tucked beneath their leaves. I harvested them slowly, one at a time, trying to focus on the simple rhythm of it. Pull, brush the dirt away, drop it in the crate.
Twelve in total.
I stored them in the chest beside the house.
The strawberries weren’t ready yet. Their vines were thick and healthy, but the fruit still clung stubbornly to the stems, a few days away from harvest.
Normally I would have felt proud of that.
Today it barely registered.
I stepped back onto the porch and glanced toward the TV through the window. The weather report. The fortune teller. The usual routine.
I forgot to watch it.
Or maybe I just didn’t want to hear what it had to say.
Something felt urgent — like if I delayed too long, something bad would happen. Like the valley itself was holding its breath.
Dudley stretched when I knelt beside him, blinking lazily as if none of the weight pressing down on my thoughts meant anything at all.
Lucky cat.
I scratched behind his ears.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I murmured. “But hopefully you’ll still be on my side.”
He blinked slowly, then bumped his head against my hand.
For a moment, that simple gesture steadied me more than anything else had in days.
Then I stood up.
The Wizard’s tower waited somewhere beyond the trees.
And I had a lot of questions.
“Well done.” Rasmodius said as he gave me some gold. “You completed the task as swiftly as intended.”
“As… intended?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“It has only been a few weeks, and you reached deep in the mines far than anyone has intended. Even obtained a forbidden trinket that was never meant to see the light of day.”
I froze.
“Hey, I have a feeling your not telling me something.” I demanded.
He then leaned in, and he dropped the formalities for a sterner tone.
“Something has changed. Stardew Valley’s stagnant magic has begun… moving. Your actions are not isolated.”
I flinched.
“What do you mean ‘changed’? All I did was bring a scroll.”
“History is a locked door. You found the first key. You’ve touched threads that haven’t stirred in centuries.”
“Ok, just
tell me what you are trying to say here!” I roared.
Rasmodius paused.
“The girl with the copper hair has begun her search. The curator breaks under pressure.”
I grit my teeth.
Yoba be damned, he already knows what’s going on.
“The boy in the shadows sees more than he should.”
My eyes quivered.
“S-Sebastian? What does he have to do with any of this?!”
“On the day you found the scroll, I discovered an anomaly in the Community Center. It appears that building has recently been a point of interest for the villagers.”
I was choking on my words.
“Oh, god. Sebastian, why did YOU have to get involved?”
“Do not mistake my distance for ignorance.”
His following speech was only more chilling than before.
“The teacher’s mind burns too brightly. Brighter than the Ferngill order would prefer. She will not stop.”
Penny.
“The curator has carried his burden alone for too long. A man cracks when held between truth and duty.”
Gunther.
“The outcast child sees the cracks in the world. He peers through them without fear.”
Sebastian.
All three of them have been acting independently because of me.
Then, Rasmodius spoke in a more resigned tone, as if he was admitting defeat.
“You, farmer, have set a revolution in motion. Not of pitchforks or torches… but of knowledge. Truth is the sharpest blade.”
“I didn’t start anything! I just gave Gunther a scroll!” I protested.
“And a single spark does not
mean to ignite the forest.”
I was silent.
“What’s going to happen?”
He replied.
“What the Valley has delayed for centuries. Prepare yourself.”
He then gave me a very foreboding speech. I couldn’t tell if he was warning me or not.
“The Dwarves remember.”
“The Empire remembers.”
“The spirits remember.”
“But the government prefers amnesia.”
Rasmodius isn’t just a hermit — he's a survivor of bygone era.
His cryptic warnings now sound closer to
threats than riddles.
“Trust no one who claims ignorance.”
“Beware the ones who smile too easily.”
“Follow the scrolls — but do not follow the footsteps of those who wrote them.”
“And do not let the rogue one catch you.”
I shivered.
The Dwarf.
Rasmodius must know a thing about him too.
“Go now. There is something I must do.”
The room felt colder now as if a spell ends and the Wizard has turned his attention elsewhere.
I stepped outside of the tower feeling like a pawn in someone else’s game.
Pelican Town looks the same but feels unrecognisable.
What is going on?
I tried to shove Rasmodius’s warnings out of my head, but they clung to me like cobwebs I couldn’t brush off.
The girl with the copper hair… the curator… the boy in the shadows.
It echoed with every step.
Pam’s birthday flickered across my mind — a normal thought, a lifeline. I had a silver parsnip for her. Something simple. Something human.
But the Adventures Guild wouldn’t open yet, and I wasn’t ready to sit still.
Movement felt safer.
So, I went down.
Level 51
A slime lunged before I even took three steps. I cut it down on instinct, but my heart was still thudding long after it burst.
Quartz glimmered faintly in the ice.
Refined quartz too.
Too clean. Too deliberate. Like something had been sorting through it before I arrived.
A ladder appeared after another slime fell.
The air hummed.
I heard wings in the dark — the bats were closing in — so I grabbed what I could and left.
Level 52
More slimes. Bats. Dust Sprites flickering like stray thoughts.
Then I saw it:
a torn backpack half-buried in a spill of coal.
I froze.
Someone died here.
Recently.
Or recently enough.
The Wizard’s voice crawled back into my skull.
The rogue one. Beware the rogue one.
The Dwarf.
“Was he killed… by him?”
I whispered it.
The mines swallowed the sound.
Level 53
The level opened into a huge arena. Slimes poured from the edges; bats shrieked from above; Dust Sprites scattered like ash.
And then — a cold wail.
A Ghost drifted toward me, slow but relentless.
Its face was the shape of a scream someone forgot to finish.
I fought until my arms trembled.
When the Ghost dissolved, a pale Solar Essence dropped to the ground like a dying star.
I ate a cauliflower just to steady myself.
Warmth spread through me — richer, more nourishing than anything I’d eaten before — but it couldn’t settle the shaking.
A ladder waited close by, as if urging me onward.
Level 54
A twisting maze choked with Dust Sprites.
Bats cried in the distance, circling, hunting.
The air felt thinner.
I broke a lone boulder, and the ladder revealed itself underneath. Too convenient. Too welcoming.
I didn’t trust it, and I took it anyway.
Level 55
I could have left.
I
should have left.
But the adrenaline kept me moving, and for a moment, fighting felt easier than thinking.
Another Ghost drifted toward me; I killed it, pocketed another Solar Essence, and realized—
My hands were shaking.
My breath was tight.
Every clang of my pickaxe echoed like a warning.
Emily’s face flickered into my mind — warm, grounded, alive.
Someone real.
Someone who made this place feel less cursed.
I needed that feeling.
I needed
her.
So, I climbed the ladder back up, leaving the mines behind before they could swallow me too.
I spotted Robin and Demetrius standing together on the cliff overlooking the valley. From far away, they looked peaceful — almost picturesque. Maybe they were holding hands; maybe Robin was leaning into him. I couldn’t quite tell. For a moment I envied the simplicity of it.
“How’s the farming business going? It’s parsnip season, isn’t it?” Demetrius asked, bright and polite in his usual scientific way. “It must be relaxing, working outdoors with plants all day.”
I laughed.
“I wish it were relaxing. I’m mostly growing Cauliflower and Strawberries now… and Salmonberries keep me afloat. But I’m pretty broke — can’t even buy extra parsnip seeds if I wanted to.”
Robin chuckled, looping her arm around Demetrius.
“That’s early farming life for you.”
“Honestly,” I said, “I barely feel like I
farm these days. I’m mostly in the mines — killing things, hauling minerals.”
I didn’t add:
…being followed by a rogue dwarf, confused by a Wizard, and apparently triggering a revolution by accident.
No. They didn’t need to hear that.
“You’re always welcome to stop by, even if you aren’t shopping,” Robin said warmly.
“Yeah… it’s just—”
“You’ve been at the Saloon, right?” she cut in with a smirk.
“Yep.”
“I wonder how Emily’s doing. She mentioned you a few times at aerobics class.”
I immediately felt my face heat up.
“O–oh. I don’t think it’s anything serious.”
Robin laughed softly.
“Eric, at some point you have to admit your feelings. That’s how I found love, you know.”
I looked away.
“I… didn’t have the best experience last time.”
“Oh, trust me,” she said, patting my arm, “I’ve been there. But you move on. After a while, you find someone who treats you better.”
Her smile was sweet — but something about it didn’t reach her eyes.
They bicker so much.
Sebastian disappears constantly.
Maru’s treated like a prodigy, given privileges that feel… excessive.
And Demetrius—
The way he watches Maru is different from the way he looks at Robin.
Something isn’t quite right here.
Or maybe
I’m not quite right anymore.
“Well,” I said, “I’ll think about what you said.”
I turned to leave.
Before I stepped off the cliff path, I glanced back.
Robin was kissing him — full, earnest, eyes closed, her hands wrapped around his shoulders like she meant every second of it.
Demetrius kissed back, but… his expression didn’t change.
He looked distracted. Distant.
Like he was thinking about an experiment, not the woman holding him.
It was such a small thing.
A flicker.
But now that I’d seen it, I couldn’t unsee it.
I spotted Maru on the path home, her steps light and springy, like the longer days were winding a key inside her.
“I plan on spending a lot of time with my telescope this summer,” she said before I even finished waving.
“Did you buy it?” I asked.
“Oh, no! I made it. My dad helped me with some of the metal parts.”
“Right… of course.”
She tilted her head. “What about you? Any big summer plans?”
I shrugged. “Depends on how much money I have. I’m hoping to buy some seeds—melons, blueberries. But the mines are eating most of my time.”
Her eyes brightened instantly.
“How far down are you now? Penny said you’ve been going pretty deep.”
I hesitated.
The Wizard’s warnings still echoed in my head.
The teacher burns too brightly.
The curator cracks under pressure.
The boy in the shadows sees too much.
For a moment I almost told her.
Instead, I forced a casual shrug.
“Level fifty-five. Still stuck in the frozen floors.”
“Ah!” Maru’s face lit up. “That’s the halfway point! You got there fast. I hope the cold hasn’t been too rough.”
“Yeah…” I said quietly.
“Anyway, I should get going. See you later, Eric!”
She walked off humming to herself, sunlight flashing across the brass fittings of whatever device she carried under her arm.
She looked proud. Independent proud. But a familiar thought crept in anyway.
Demetrius had a way of shaping people without them realizing it. Sometimes I wondered where Maru ended, and his expectations began.
I shook the thought away.
The Wizard’s cryptic warnings were starting to get inside my head.
A few steps later, I passed Alex throwing a ball for his dog. The air smelled warm and dusty, summer creeping closer every day.
Normal people.
Normal lives.
And I was carrying the Wizard’s words like a stone in my pocket.
I turned toward the Saloon and saw Penny sitting on the bench, reading.
I opened my mouth—
Then closed it.
Something tightened in my chest. Guilt? Fear? I wasn’t sure.
I walked past her without looking back.
The Saloon was dim and warm, a low amber glow settling over the usual quartet: Pam slouched over her drink; Gus was wiping a glass with mechanical calm; Emily was humming faintly behind the counter; Shane was pretending not to watch anyone but watching everyone anyway.
“Hey Pam, I got you a gift. Happy birthday.” I held out my best parsnip.
Pam blinked blearily, then grinned. “You remembered my birthday? I’m impressed. Thanks,” she slurred.
I took a seat, letting the wooden stool creak beneath me. My head felt thick—too many thoughts piling up, none of them with answers.
“Hey, you look like you could use a beverage,” Gus said.
“You think?”
“Oh, come on, Gus,” Pam groaned. “The guy looks beyond famished. Can’t you just give him some free food?”
“That’s nice, but I’m… not really hungry,” I murmured.
Gus leaned his elbows on the counter. “So, what happened in the mines?”
I froze for a half-second—only a half, but it was enough for my pulse to jump.
“Well… uh… nothing. Found some ghosts. Got some solar essence.”
He nodded, unfazed. “Saw the Help Wanted board. Rasmodius wanted somebody to take out the Dust Sprites. A little odd for him to post something like that publicly.”
A cold shiver crawled up my spine. The Wizard’s voice echoed in my mind:
You have set events in motion, whether you intended to or not.
“Yeah… odd,” I managed.
Pam had turned toward me, squinting like she was focusing past the blur of alcohol. “Hey. What are you hiding?”
My throat tightened. “N-Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me!” she snapped, suddenly loud, suddenly sharp. “Ever since you started going into those mines, my daughter hasn’t been herself!
My heart kicked against my ribs.
This isn’t about the mines, I thought.
It’s about the library. It’s about things I didn’t mean to change.
“What did you do to her? What are you hiding from us?!” She pushed off her seat, stumbling closer.
I felt every eye in the room turn to me. Gus stiffened. Emily stopped humming. Even Shane’s chair scraped an inch backward, ready in case things got ugly.
Pam loomed, breath thick with alcohol, anger, and fear—the kind that lashes out because it doesn’t know where else to go.
And then the door slammed open.
“Mom, stop.”
Penny stood there, cheeks flushed from running or embarrassment or both.
“H-Hey!” Pam barked. “What right do you have—”
“Mom, we’re going home. You’ve had too much, and you need sleep.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to—”
Pam’s knees buckled. She crashed to the floor, then to her hands, and finally to her stomach, where she started vomiting.
The room went dead quiet except for the awful sound of it.
Penny closed her eyes for one long breath, then opened them again with practiced exhaustion.
“Eric… I’m sorry about all this.”
She hoisted Pam up with surprising strength and guided her toward the door. The air seemed lighter once they left, but it wasn’t relief—just the absence of something volatile.
“Ugh. What a mess,” Gus muttered.
“I’ll take care of it,” Shane said, already grabbing cleaning supplies. Something in his voice suggested he’d done this before. Probably more than once.
I pressed my palms to my eyes. My head felt like it was full of static.
“I gotta go,” I said.
“Wait,” Emily called softly. When I turned, she tilted her head, expression gentle but unreadable. “Why don’t you walk me home first?”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Why not?”
Her smile wasn’t flirty or playful—it was… earnest. Concerned, maybe. It made me feel seen in a way I wasn’t ready for.
I exhaled slowly. “Fine. I’ll take you home.”
The words felt heavier than they should have. Everything did lately.
The night air was cool, soft against my skin, and for the first time all day, my headache loosened its grip. Maybe it was the walk. Maybe it was the quiet.
Maybe it was Emily.
There was something about her presence—warm without being smothering, strange without being unsettling—that steadied the ground under my feet.
“You know,” she said lightly, “I once had a dream about you, Eric.”
I blinked. “...Really?”
She laughed under her breath, the sound gentle. “The place I often dream about is… different. A little weird, I guess. I meditate there sometimes. And one night, I saw you walk into that space as if you belonged there. I didn’t understand why at first. But then a rainbow streak crossed the sky.” Her voice softened. “Those only show up when something important is about to happen.”
A prickle ran down my spine. I wasn’t sure if it was awe or dread.
“I feel like our destinies are intertwined somehow,” she continued. “I don’t know how or why, but… it feels like a sign.”
The weight I’d been carrying finally cracked open.
“Emily… it’s been a rough few days.”
Her smile faded instantly, replaced by concern.
“What happened?”
I swallowed. My throat felt tight. “I started something I never meant to. I met the Wizard—Rasmodius. I thought he was just some eccentric guy. Then he—he keeps talking about a war, and monsters, and choices I don’t remember making.”
Emily’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I feel like I’m losing grip on reality,” I said, voice breaking on the last word.
And then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
Warm. Steady. Real.
This time,
I was the one falling apart, not her.
“Eric,” she murmured, “it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
I froze—because I wanted to believe her. Because hearing it said aloud made something inside me finally collapse in relief.
“You’ve had so much responsibility pushed upon you,” she whispered. “More than anyone can endure alone. It hurts to watch sometimes.”
I shook, breath catching. I hadn’t realized how close I was to crying.
“If you ever want to talk,” she said, “I’ll be here. You don’t have to face all of this by yourself.”
My hands trembled—stress, emotion, or both—but I lifted them anyway, holding her for just a moment. A real moment. One I didn't want to end.
And then I remembered where we were. Haley would open the door any second.
“H-hey,” I croaked, “I… I want this moment to last, but don’t you have something to do?”
“Oh! Right.” Emily blinked back into awareness. “Sorry—I got a little carried away.”
There was something in her eyes, though. A lingering softness. Like part of her didn’t want to let go either.
“Goodnight, Eric,” she said gently.
“Goodnight, Emily.”
And as she slipped inside, I felt the warmth of her hug cling to me, even as the cool night swallowed everything else. I headed home, lighter and heavier all at once.
