The next morning, Arin walked the fields, the journal tucked under his arm. The sun rose over the valley, its light casting long shadows across the barren earth. The villagers watched from a distance, their hope a fragile flame. Some approached, offering small gifts—a basket of dried lotus seeds, a carved wooden charm, a whispered blessing. An elder named Kael, his hands gnarled from years of labor, clasped Arin's shoulder. "You've given us hope," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "The land hasn't spoken like that since my father's time." A young boy, barely ten, tugged at Arin's sleeve, offering a handful of wilted flowers. "Will you make the fields bloom again?" he asked, his eyes wide with innocent hope. Arin smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'll try," he said, the promise settling into his bones like a seed taking root.
He knelt by a patch of barren soil, pressing the glowing grains from the day before into the earth. The ground responded, a faint pulse of qi rising to meet him, like a heartbeat quickening with life. He closed his eyes, murmuring the mantra, letting the qi flow from his hands. The soil shimmered, a faint green sprouting where the grains took root. It was small, barely a whisper of growth, but it was a start. The villagers gasped, some falling to their knees, others clapping with quiet joy. A woman wept, clutching the charm she'd given him, her tears falling to the earth like rain. Arin felt the land's gratitude, a warmth that spread through him like sunlight, filling the hollow ache left by his loss.
Naya joined him, her presence a quiet comfort. "You'll need to learn fast," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "This world doesn't take kindly to farmers." Arin looked at her, the weight of his new life settling in. "Then I'll make it bloom," he replied, his resolve firm. Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them—a shared hope, a shared burden. There was something in Naya's gaze, a warmth that made Arin's heart stir, a flicker of connection that felt both foreign and familiar. He pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand, but the seed of it remained, planted deep within him.
As night fell, stars glittered above, mirroring the qi sparks in the soil. Arin stood at the field's edge, the journal in his hands, its pages glowing faintly with qi. In the distance, a faint glow pulsed in the sky—a silhouette of a seed, vast and eternal, watching over the valley. The Eternal Seed, he thought, the name rising unbidden, a whisper of mystery that sent a shiver down his spine. He thought of his grandfather, of the fields he'd lost, and of the new world before him. This was his chance to start anew, to restore what was broken. But the Iron Fang's threat lingered, and Naya's journal hinted at mysteries deeper than he could yet grasp. The land had chosen him, and he would answer its call—one seed at a time.
The villagers gathered for a small celebration, their voices rising in a song that echoed Pongal's melodies. They shared what little they had—dried lotus seeds, a thin broth made from wilted herbs, a few cracked cups of tea. Arin sat among them, Naya at his side, her laughter soft as she recounted a childhood memory of chasing fireflies through the fields. "They glowed like qi," she said, her eyes distant but warm. "I thought they were magic." Arin smiled, the memory stirring his own—of fireflies in Rajasthan, their light dancing over the wheat. For the first time since his transmigration, he felt a flicker of belonging. The valley was wounded, but it wasn't dead. And neither was he.
He looked at the faces around him—Kael's quiet strength, the boy's hopeful grin, Naya's steady presence—and felt a resolve take root. This was his new field, his new harvest. The Iron Fang would return, and the prophecy of the Jade Farmer loomed like a storm on the horizon, but for now, there was this moment: a fire, a song, a shared hope. Arin lifted his cup, joining the song, his voice blending with theirs. The land hummed beneath him, alive and waiting, and he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.