The morning sun bathed Glimmerfen in a warm amber glow, its light filtering through the towering mushroom caps, casting intricate patterns across the cobblestone paths. Tilda's burrow was alive with voices, the air thick with the scent of burning herbs and fresh bread. Around the oak table sat Tilda, her white braids gleaming, her emerald eyes steady; Fenwick, his green cap tilted, his lantern glowing softly; the five elders, their robes adorned with amber and jade beads; and elder farmers, their hands calloused, their faces a mix of relief and gratitude. The room buzzed with anticipation, the success of Akira's light traps still fresh in their minds.
Tilda stood, her voice commanding attention. "As you all know, Akira's knowledge has saved our Dhan fields from ruin. The pests are under control, and our harvest is secure. I called you here to discuss what we owe him."
Elder Bramble nodded, his grizzled beard twitching, his tone softer than usual. "The humans' traps worked. Our fields are safe because of him."
Thistle, the wiry farmer with a sun-bleached cap, clapped his hands, his voice hearty. "Aye, he did what we couldn't. The Dhan's thriving again."
Tilda's eyes swept the room, her voice firm. "Akira came here promising to help, asking only for glass to build his greenhouse in Greenwood. He's kept his word, but I say glass alone isn't enough. He's given us our future back."
The farmers murmured in agreement, their nods vigorous. Elder Hazel adjusted her silver spectacles, her voice thoughtful. "He's earned more than glass. What does he want?"
Tilda's lips curved slightly, her tone warm. "I asked him that yesterday. He said the glass is enough, but he mentioned one thing—he'd love Dhan plants to grow in Greenwood, to share with the elves. I propose we give it to him as a gift, a token of our gratitude."
Elder Bramble's face darkened, his voice sharp. "Dhan? Ours alone for 300 years, never traded outside, and you'd give it to a human? That's too much, Tilda! The Dhan needs special soil. How will he grow it in Greenwood?"
Tilda's eyes flashed, her voice cutting. "Too much? Don't forget, Bramble, this 'human' saved our fields, our people. If Dhan's plants make him happy, I'm willing to give them to him. He's earned it."
Bramble opened his mouth, his tone stubborn. "But—"
Tilda raised a hand, silencing him, her voice firm. "If the farmers agree, there's no debate. Thistle, you and the others work the fields. What say you? Should we give Akira the Dhan plant?"
Thistle stood, his eyes steady, his voice earnest. "Akira didn't have to come here. He heard of our struggle and came on his own, asking nothing but glass. Without him, our fields would've failed, and we'd be starving. Dhan's just a plant—if it brings Greenwood joy, I say give it to him." He turned to the other farmers, his tone questioning. "Any of you object?"
The farmers shook their heads, their voices rising together. "No objections!" "Give him the Dhan!" "He's earned it!"
Tilda's smile widened, her voice resolute. "That settles it. We'll give Akira the Dhan plant, along with the glass. But there's another matter. Bramble, you mentioned the Dhan needs special soil. How will he grow it in Greenwood?"
Bramble's scowl softened, his voice grudging. "True, Dhan's picky—needs rich, balanced soil."
Tilda laughed, her tone light. "It's Akira we're talking about. He figured out the pests just by looking once. If anyone can grow Dhan, it's him. He wouldn't ask for it without a plan. Now, onto the glass. Akira needs it for his greenhouse, but transporting it through the Whispering Woods risks breakage. We don't even know how much he needs. I propose we go to Greenwood, craft the glass there, and ensure it's perfect. I'll go with him, but I need others to join me."
Fenwick leaned forward, his lantern glowing brightly. "I'm in, Tilda. I promised Akira the best glass, and Mira and I know the craft. We'll go to Greenwood, make sure it's done right."
Tilda nodded, her voice approving. "Good, Fenwick. I knew I could count on you and Mira. But we need one more—someone skilled with glass."
Elder Hazel raised a hand, her voice steady. "My son, Torin, is a master glasssmith. His work is flawless—clear, thick, strong. If he goes, you'll have the best glass in Arathia."
Tilda's eyes lit up, her tone brisk. "Perfect. Hazel, talk to Torin today. If he has any concerns or conditions, let me know."
Hazel nodded, her spectacles glinting. "I'll speak with him tonight. He'll be honored to help."
Tilda clapped her hands, her voice firm. "Then it's settled. We'll give Akira the Dhan plant, and Fenwick, Mira, Torin, and I will travel to Greenwood to craft the glass. Meeting adjourned."
As the elders and farmers dispersed, Tilda and Fenwick headed to the First Layer, the stone staircase spiraling through the cloud-like fog. The sky fields stretched before them, the Dhan stalks swaying gently, the river sparkling under the midday sun. Akira sat on the grass, his dark hair ruffled by the breeze, his eyes fixed on the farmers planting new Dhan seedlings, their hands quick and practiced. The air was fresh, scented with skyflowers and river mist, a peaceful contrast to the village below.
Tilda approached, her voice warm. "What are you doing out here alone, Akira?"
Akira turned, his smile soft. "Just watching the farmers work. It's so peaceful here, Tilda. I wish Elara and Mom could see this—the fields, the river, the sky. It's like a dream."
Fenwick grinned, his cap bobbing. "Then bring them next time. Glimmerfen's open to you now."
Akira's eyes widened, his voice eager. "Really? I can bring them here?"
Tilda laughed, her tone light. "Of course. You're one of us now, Akira."
Akira's cheeks flushed, his voice softening. "That means a lot. Thank you."
Tilda's expression grew serious, her voice curious. "You mentioned our soil is exhausted from planting the same crops. How do we fix it?"
Akira leaned forward, his tone earnest. "You're right—the soil's drained because you've grown Dhan year after year. To restore it, you need to balance the nutrients and reduce soil pH and salinity. Two plants can help: Sesbania rostrata and Azolla. Sesbania's a legume—it fixes nitrogen in the soil, enriching it. Azolla's a fern that grows in water, like your river here, and it adds nitrogen and organic matter when mixed into the soil after harvest. Both help prevent soil exhaustion."
Tilda's brow furrowed, her voice intrigued. "pH? Sesbania rostrata? Azolla? What are these?"
Akira smiled, his voice patient. "pH measures how acidic or alkaline the soil is—too high or low, and crops struggle. Dhan likes slightly acidic soil. Sesbania rostrata is a tall, green plant with seeds that you plant in the fields. Azolla's a tiny, floating fern that grows fast in water. When you harvest it, you mix it into the soil to add nutrients. You'd plant Dhan, then rotate with Sesbania or mix in Azolla after harvest to keep the soil healthy."
Fenwick's eyes lit up, his tone curious. "Where do we find these plants?"
Akira's voice grew thoughtful. "Sesbania needs seeds, and I haven't seen it in the Whispering Woods—or anywhere in Arathia. It might be out there, hidden, since no one's fully explored the Whispering Wood. Azolla's easier—you can grow it in Greenwood's ponds or here in your river. It spreads fast with water and sunlight. For now, focus on crop rotation—plant different crops each season to prevent exhaustion. When we're in Greenwood, we can start growing Azolla."
Tilda nodded, her voice impressed. "That makes sense. We'll bring Azolla seeds when we come to Greenwood for your glass."
Akira's eyes widened, his tone surprised. "You're coming to Greenwood? To make the glass?"
Tilda smiled, her voice warm. "Yes. Fenwick, Mira, maybe Hazel's son Torin, and I will go. Transporting glass through the Whispering Wood risks breakage, and we don't know how much you need. We'll craft it there, ensure it's perfect."
Akira's face lit up, his voice grateful. "That's wonderful! Greenwood will be thrilled to host you."
Fenwick chuckled, his lantern glowing. "Oh, and Tilda, I forgot—Akira wants a house here, in the First Layer. Loved the sunset."
Akira blushed, his voice shy. "It's just… the beauty here is incredible. I didn't mean—"
Tilda laughed, her tone teasing. "A house, eh? I understand. We will make you a house, but not in the First Layer, Akira; We will make you the house in the Second Layer, it's even more beautiful. Fields of starflowers, clouds that glow at night, and more. Next time you come, with Elara and your mom, you'll stay there."
Akira's eyes sparkled, his excitement clear. "Really? That's… amazing. Thank you, Tilda."
Fenwick's voice grew serious. "Now that the Dhan's safe, when do you want to head back to Greenwood?"
Akira's smile softened, his voice longing. "As soon as possible. I miss Elara's face, my mom, the village."
Tilda nodded, her tone decisive. "Then we leave tomorrow morning."
Fenwick clapped his hands, his voice cheerful. "That's the plan! Let's do it."
As evening fell, Akira joined Fenwick and Mira for dinner in their burrow, the air warm with the scent of mushroom stew and crusty bread. After eating, Akira's voice was eager. "Fenwick, you said the First Layer's night view is even better than the sunset. Can we see it? I'm leaving tomorrow—I don't want to miss it."
Fenwick laughed, his eyes twinkling. "You're like a kid, Akira! Alright, let's go. Mira, you coming?"
Mira smiled, her dark curls bouncing. "Wouldn't miss it. Let's show him the stars, the sky."
They climbed the staircase, Fenwick's lantern casting a soft glow through the quiet village, its burrows dark, its residents asleep. The fog parted, revealing the First Layer under a night sky ablaze with stars, two moons glowing—one silver, one pale blue—casting a dreamlike light over the Dhan fields and sparkling river. Skyflowers pulsed softly, their petals shimmering like tiny lanterns.
Akira stepped forward, the grass soft under his boots, the skyflowers brushing his ankles like living jewels. He knelt by the river's edge, the water cool against his fingers, its surface reflecting the moons in a dance of light. "I've never seen a night like this," he said, his voice filled with awe.
Akira lay down in the grass, the cool grass cradling him, the sky unfolding above like an infinite canvas. The stars twinkled in constellations he didn't recognize, their patterns weaving stories of ancient gnomes and whispering winds. The moons cast a dual glow, Aetheria's sharp silver outlining the clouds in crisp lines, Nocturna's soft blue blurring the edges, creating a dreamlike haze. The gentle air buzzed softly, a faint melody from the skyflowers, and the only sounds were the river's murmur and their quiet breathing, each inhale and exhale a rhythm in the silence. His breath catching, his voice a whisper. "The stars, the moons… It's like the sky's alive.
Arathia's magic never fails to impress me. I am glad I came to this world."
Fenwick and Mira joined him, lying back, the grass cool beneath them. Fenwick's voice was soft. "Told you the night view is so much more beautiful. This is why we love the First Layer. It's magic, pure, beautiful, and simple."
Mira's voice was quiet, her tone warm. "You've given us back our fields, Akira. This night, this beauty—it's yours, too."
Akira's mind wandered to Elara, her smile, his mom, and the greenhouse. The stars above felt like allies, their light a promise of hope. This world's full of wonders, he thought. And I'm part of it now.
The air buzzed gently, the only sounds their breathing and the distant trickle of the river. Akira sighed, his heart full, the beauty of Glimmerfen's sky a memory he'd carry back to Greenwood.