The path from the village square to the magical coffee groves was a familiar one, but today it was shrouded in a heavy, unnatural silence. The usual chorus of rustling leaves and chirping birds was gone, replaced by a still, airless quiet that felt more like a tomb than a fertile valley. Rio, the village elder, led the way with a slumped posture, her face etched with a mix of sorrow and bewilderment. Behind her, Yume, Levy, and Cana followed, their expressions a study in contrasting emotions.
Yume walked with a silent, measured gait, his gaze sharp and analytical. His eyes weren't just observing; they were processing, scanning the landscape for any detail out of place, any inconsistency that a normal person would miss. The air itself felt different to him—a tangible lack of magical energy where it should be thick and vibrant.
Levy, on the other hand, was all empathy and concern. She hovered near the elder, her heart aching for the suffering she saw reflected in Rio's face. The Solid Script she had cast earlier felt like a heavy blanket, its faint magical signature clinging to the air, whispering of a deep and insidious corruption.
Cana, ever the pragmatist, walked with a purposeful stride, her cards clutched in her hand. The deck felt cold and unresponsive, a sure sign that something was seriously wrong with the valley's magic. "Look at this," she muttered, not to anyone in particular, but to the forest itself. "Even the cards are a little spooked."
Finally, they crested a small hill. Below them lay the valley, once a vibrant tapestry of lush green coffee plants. Now, it was a mosaic of decay. Patches of once-fertile soil were scorched black, and the rows of coffee bushes were shriveled and pale, their leaves brittle as old parchment. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something acrid, like burnt sugar.
Rio stopped, her voice a fragile whisper.
"There," she said, gesturing with a trembling hand. "The heart of it all."
The team's eyes followed her gesture to the grove's center. At first glance, it seemed like nothing more than a cluster of twisted, dying plants—but then the subtle details emerged. An unnatural circle had been scorched into the ground, the edges too clean and deliberate for any natural blight. Black veins of tainted magic pulsed faintly across the soil, threading through the coffee plants like poison in the veins of a body.
Yume narrowed his eyes. "Not natural. Not random." His voice was quiet, but it carried the sharpness of certainty.
Levy shivered as she stepped closer, her hands curling into fists. "It feels… wrong. Like someone wove the corruption into the land."
Cana squinted at the ruin, then muttered dryly, "Well, whoever did it picked the worst possible target. I don't know about you two, but if this village runs out of coffee, I might actually become the villain here."
Her attempt at levity broke some of the tension, though Levy shot her a look somewhere between exasperation and amusement. Even Rio's lips twitched, though the sorrow didn't leave her eyes.
Yume, however, didn't smile. His sharp gaze lingered on the black veins, his hand drifting toward the hilt of his blade. "Jokes aside… this is no ordinary sabotage. There's intent here. Malice."
The air around them stirred faintly, carrying with it the bitter, choking scent of burnt beans. It was almost as though the grove itself was breathing—wheezing through poisoned lungs.
***
Phase 1: The Initial Assessment
Yume stepped forward, eyes sharp and focused as he surveyed the ruined grove like a detective at a crime scene. Every footprint, every scorched patch of earth, every twisted branch—he cataloged them all with clinical precision. His instincts confirmed one thing: this was no natural blight.
There was no trace of poison or disease. No pests had devoured the roots. Nor did the scene bear the hallmarks of a destructive spell. The damage was deliberate yet subtle—no explosions of raw magic, but precise cuts to the very heart of the grove.
Levy knelt beside a withered bush, her brow furrowed in concentration. She pressed her palm against the soil and whispered, "Solid Script: Scan." Arcane glyphs shimmered in the air, floating like fireflies as they pulled at the threads of magic still clinging to the earth.
The results made her stomach tighten. The grove's unique magical binding—the very essence that tied the coffee beans to the valley—hadn't been destroyed. It had been drained, leeched away like lifeblood from a wound. Worse still, the faint residue left behind bore a twisted pattern, a corrupted magical signature tangled deep in the ley lines.
While her companions worked, Cana sat cross-legged on a fallen log, shuffling her tarot deck with a flick of her wrist. Her boredom was an act, but the flicker of unease in her eyes betrayed her. With a dramatic flourish, she laid down three cards.
The Fool, reversed—reckless mistakes.
The Tower—sudden, catastrophic upheaval.
The Star, inverted—despair and lost hope.
The cards didn't point to a culprit, but their meaning was clear: this was not just sabotage. It was a curse born of folly, its roots tangled in something far more dangerous than greed or mischief.
Cana, for once, wasn't smirking. Her cards spread in a solemn fan, their painted figures pale under the lantern light. She tapped the cards in rhythm, voice quieter than usual. "Recklessness. Collapse. Hopelessness. Someone made a mistake… and now the whole village pays for it."
Phase 2: Tracing the Threads
The team regrouped at the heart of the grove, where a once-thriving coffee tree stood blackened and hollow, its roots curling like skeletal fingers. The silence around them was oppressive, broken only by the occasional hiss of wind slipping through brittle leaves.
Yume crouched low, his palm brushing over the soil. He could feel the faint hum of ley lines buried beneath the land, but they were thin, starved—as though something had been siphoning their strength for weeks. His brows furrowed. Not natural. Not random. Someone knew exactly what they were doing.
Levy's glyphs still floated around her like glowing fireflies, and with a flick of her quill, she drew new script mid-air. "Solid Script: Trace." The letters stretched like glowing threads into the distance, tugging toward the east. But the magic wavered, flickering as though it resisted being followed. "Something's masking the trail," she muttered. "Whoever did this… they don't want to be found."
Cana stood with her arms folded, the remains of her tarot still laid out on a flat rock. She blew a lock of hair out of her face and smirked lazily. "Of course they don't. Nobody ruins a coffee crop and sticks around to brag about it." Her tone was playful, but her eyes flicked to the treeline, sharp and wary.
Yume rose to his feet, eyes narrowing. "Masking magic can't erase all signs. It just hides them. Which means…" He closed his eyes, letting his senses sharpen. The faintest traces lingered: the smell of burnt herbs, a whisper of incense—ritualistic, deliberate.
Levy glanced at him. "A curse ritual?"
He nodded. "Yes. And it wasn't done here. The grove is just the aftermath. The source is elsewhere."
A heavy silence fell over them. The cheerful idea of "coffee chaos" now seemed like a grim puzzle, its edges sharper than they expected. What began as sabotage was starting to feel like something far more dangerous.
***
The sunlight hung lazily over Serenity Creek as the team pressed deeper into the groves. The crisp morning air carried the faint, bittersweet aroma of coffee flowers, but underneath lingered a wrongness—an earthy stench that reminded Yume of rot left too long in still water.
Levy traced glowing script into the air, her glyphs hovering like lanterns as she whispered, "Solid Script: Track." The letters sank into the soil, pulsing faintly in rhythm with the land's weakened ley lines.
That's when they saw it.
At the far end of the grove, a patch of coffee shrubs stood cloaked in something unnatural. The leaves sagged as though pulled by invisible weight, veins blackened, and the fruit itself shriveled in mid-growth. The ground below was worse—it wasn't just dry. It bled faint wisps of gray energy, twisting upward like smoke that never dispersed.
Cana whistled low, shoving her cards back into her pocket.
"Blight, huh? More like the beans have been cursed to death."
Yume crouched, fingers brushing the soil. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes narrowed with sharp intent. No heat burns, no frost marks. Whatever this is, it doesn't kill in one strike—it drains.
Levy's glyphs flickered, destabilized by the corrupted energy. She bit her lip.
"This isn't natural decay. Something is feeding on the grove's essence. Almost like… like a parasite rooted in the ley lines themselves."
A tense silence fell between them, broken only by the faint rustle of wind through withered branches. The blight wasn't passive—it was alive, pulsing like a wound that refused to close.
Cana crossed her arms, a grin tugging at her lips despite the heaviness of the scene.
"Well, if it's alive, that means we can punch it. Or burn it. Or… I don't know, drown it in enough coffee to make it explode."
Neither Yume nor Levy laughed.
This was no ordinary sabotage. This was something designed—crafted with precision—to starve the village of its lifeblood.
And whatever had done this was still out there.
***
Yume exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing though his eyes stayed sharp on the ruined grove. "We'll deal with this problem," he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of grim acceptance. Then, with a small shake of his head, he added, "But first, we need a place to stay. We're not solving this mystery in a single afternoon."
Levy nodded immediately, dusting her hands off from the soil. "A base of operations makes sense. Somewhere close enough to monitor the fields but safe enough to study what we've gathered."
Cana stretched with a lazy grin, already brushing dirt from her skirt. "And hopefully a place with decent beds. If we're fighting off coffee curses or bean-thieves, I'd rather not do it half-asleep."
Elder Rio, who had been watching them quietly from the grove's edge, finally spoke up. Her weathered voice cracked like old bark. "You'll stay in the Hearth Hall. It's not much—an inn by the creek, simple but strong. Travelers use it when they come to trade for our beans. You'll find warmth there… and maybe more answers than you expect."
Her tone carried an undercurrent, as if she knew something she hadn't yet voiced.
The team exchanged glances, sensing the weight in her words, but no one pressed her—not yet.
Yume gave a curt nod. "Then the Hearth Hall it is. Tonight, after we rest, we'll return and watch the fields. We'll learn what this 'blight' truly is."
Levy adjusted her satchel, already scribbling notes in the margin of her journal. "If it's appearing in cycles, then observation is our best chance. Magic this deliberate doesn't spread at random."
Cana smirked, slipping her tarot deck back into her pouch. "Fine. But if the 'blight' is just the earth throwing a tantrum, I expect a round of coffee on the house as payment."
Rio's lips twitched into a faint smile, though her eyes stayed troubled. "You'll see soon enough. But be cautious.", her voice low. Her hands twisted together at her waist, eyes fixed firmly on the ground as though afraid the truth might surface if she looked too long.
The words clung to the air like fog as the group began their walk back toward the village, the steady burble of Serenity Creek whispering alongside them.
For now, they would settle in. But already, the night ahead felt heavy with promise and dread.
End of chapter.