The starship's engine sputtered softly as it glided over a valley bathed in early-morning gold. Below, a cluster of thatched-roof houses nested beside a winding river, their chimneys curling thin wisps of smoke into the sky. Willows dipped their branches into the water, their leaves shimmering like green silk—and at the edge of the village, a sign hung from a wooden post, its paint faded but legible: Willow Hamlet.
Lin Che cut the engine, letting the starship drift down to a grassy meadow just outside the village. "This is it," he said, glancing at the map in his hand—marked with a small X by Elder Gao, who'd mentioned the hamlet a week earlier. "Elder Gao said they've been having trouble with their water mill. And the plants…."
He trailed off, nodding at Xiao Ya. She'd pressed her palm to the starship's hull the moment they'd entered the valley, her fingers glowing faintly green. Now she stepped out first, her boots crunching on dewy grass, and closed her eyes.
"The plants here are tired," she said, her voice soft. "The river's water is slow—clogged with something. The mill can't turn, so they can't grind grain. They're running out of bread."
Su Qing joined her, flipping open her Arcane Manual to a page of water-based runes. "Elder Gao's note said the mill's wheel is stuck too—probably from silt buildup. But if the river's clogged, we'll need to clear that first."
Mo Ying slung her toolbox over her shoulder, grinning as she scanned the village. "Two jobs in one—fixing a river and a mill? My kind of morning."
They walked toward the village, the sound of their steps mixing with the river's quiet gurgle. A young girl, no older than seven, spotted them first—she was sitting on a stone by the river, clutching a wicker basket. Her eyes widened at the sight of the starship, then at Xiao Ya's glowing hands, and she scrambled to her feet, running toward a nearby house.
Moments later, a woman with braided brown hair and smudged apron hurried out, followed by an older man with a beard streaked with gray. The woman's hands were flour-dusted—she'd been baking, though the bowl in her hands looked nearly empty.
"Are you the travelers Elder Gao sent?" the woman asked, her voice hopeful. She wiped her hands on her apron, gesturing to the man beside her. "I'm Mara, the baker. This is Tomas—he tends the mill."
Tomas nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. "The mill's been dead for three weeks," he said. "The river's gotten slow—silt's piled up by the wheel, and we can't dig it out fast enough. Now the grain's going stale, and…." He trailed off, glancing at Mara's empty bowl.
Xiao Ya stepped forward, her hands still glowing. "The plants can help clear the silt," she said. "They know the river—they can guide the water to wash it away. And Mo Ying can fix the mill wheel, right?"
Mo Ying tapped her toolbox. "Give me an hour. I'll have that wheel turning like new."
Mara led them to the mill first—a weathered wooden structure perched on the river's edge. The wheel sat motionless, half-buried in thick, brown silt; its spokes were cracked, and one of its wooden slats hung loose. Tomas sighed as he looked at it. "We tried prying the silt out with shovels, but it just keeps coming back."
Xiao Ya knelt by the riverbank, pressing her palm to the water. Her hands flared green, and a soft ripple spread across the surface. "The water plants are waking up," she said, smiling. "They'll push the silt downstream—away from the wheel."
Sure enough, within minutes, the river's current picked up. Tiny green tendrils emerged from the water, winding around clumps of silt and pulling them toward the center of the stream. Mara and Tomas stared, their mouths open, as the muck around the mill wheel slowly vanished.
"Amazing," Mara breathed.
While Xiao Ya guided the plants, Mo Ying climbed onto the mill wheel, her wrench in hand. She tightened loose bolts, replaced the cracked spoke with a spare piece of wood (Tomas fetched it from his shed), and sanded down rough edges. Lin Che helped steady the wheel, while Su Qing checked the mill's interior—clearing a clog of old grain from the chute with a small Arcane spell.
By midmorning, the mill was ready. Tomas pulled the lever, and the wheel creaked to life—slow at first, then faster, as the river's current spun it. The sound of grinding grain filled the air, and Mara laughed, wiping away a tear.
"We haven't heard that sound in weeks," she said. "Thank you—all of you."
She insisted they stay for lunch, inviting them to her cottage. The table was set with the last of her fresh bread (still warm from the oven), a bowl of berry jam, and mugs of herbal tea. The young girl from earlier—Lila, Mara's daughter—sat beside Xiao Ya, asking endless questions about the plants and the starship.
"Can the plants talk to you?" Lila asked, her eyes wide.
Xiao Ya nodded, pulling a small fern from her pocket (she'd picked it by the river). "They don't use words, exactly. But they tell me how they feel—happy, sad, scared. Like how the river plants were sad because the silt was hurting them."
Lila reached out, touching the fern gently. "I want to talk to plants too," she said.
Xiao Ya smiled. "You can. Just listen. Sit quiet, and feel their leaves. They'll hear you."
After lunch, they walked through the village. The hamlet was small—only a dozen houses—but it was cozy, with flower boxes on every windowsill and a small square where children played. The villagers waved as they passed, thanking them for fixing the mill.
As they reached the meadow where the starship was parked, Tomas and Mara followed, carrying a sack of fresh grain. "For the road," Mara said, handing it to Lin Che. "It's not much, but… it's our thanks."
Lin Che took the sack, smiling. "It's perfect. Thank you."
Lila ran over, holding out a small drawing—she'd made it while they ate: a stick figure of Xiao Ya, surrounded by green squiggles (plants), standing next to the starship. "For you," she said, shyly.
Xiao Ya took the drawing, tucking it into her pocket. "I'll keep it forever," she said.
They climbed aboard the starship, waving goodbye. Lila stood on tiptoes, waving until they were out of sight. The starship lifted off, and Willow Hamlet shrank below them—its willows glowing green, its mill wheel still spinning.
Su Qing leaned against the window, flipping through her Arcane Manual. "Elder Gao mentioned another village—Maple Hollow—north of here. They have a problem with their well. No water."
Mo Ying nodded, adjusting the starship's controls. "Wells, mills… next thing you know, we'll be fixing roofs and planting gardens. Not that I'm complaining."
Lin Che smiled, glancing at Xiao Ya—she was looking at Lila's drawing, her face soft. The Star Marrow on his wrist glowed faintly, warm and steady.
This was their new journey—not fighting world-ending darkness, but helping small villages, one problem at a time. It was quieter, simpler… but no less important. Because for Mara and Tomas, for Lila and the villagers of Willow Hamlet, their help had meant the difference between hunger and hope.
"Maple Hollow first," Lin Che said.
The starship turned north, toward the horizon. The sun was high, the sky blue, and ahead—new villages, new friends, new chances to help.
Their journey continued. And this time, it was filled with light.