The starship soared over golden wheat fields that stretched to the horizon, their stalks rippling like waves in the southern breeze. Sunnydale lay ahead, a cluster of cobblestone houses with thatched roofs clustered around a wide river. At the river's bank stood a weathered stone mill, its wooden wheel motionless in the water, chains hanging loosely, and a thin layer of dust covering its windows. Villagers trundled sacks of unground grain toward the village square, their shoulders slumping with exhaustion, while a group of elders argued anxiously beside the mill's entrance.
Lin Che set the starship down on a grassy bank near the mill, and a middle-aged man with calloused hands and a linen apron hurried over. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing arms streaked with grease, and his boots squelched in the river mud. "You must be the travelers Alden wrote about," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'm Gareth, the miller. That mill's been our lifeline for generations—grinds wheat into flour, oats into meal, even corn into grits. But two weeks ago, the wheel jammed mid-turn. We pried it free, only to find the main gear shattered into pieces. The harvest's due in ten days; without the mill, we'll have to cart grain to the next village, and they'll take half our yield as payment. We'll starve by winter if we can't fix it."
Mo Ying strode straight to the mill, her boots clinking with tools hidden in her pockets. She circled the idle wheel, rapping her knuckles against its wooden spokes, then ducked into the mill's interior. Inside, the air smelled of dust and stale grain; the shattered gear lay on the stone floor, its wooden teeth splintered, and a faint, dim glow lingered on the broken edges. "This isn't just a plain gear," she called out, gesturing for the others to join her. "There's enchantment woven into the wood. It's what made the mill grind grain so smoothly, even when the river ran slow."
Xiao Ya knelt beside the gear, her fingers brushing the splintered wood. Her palms glowed green, and a soft hum echoed through the mill. "The enchantment's fading," she said, her voice gentle. "This gear wasn't just broken by force. The magic that bound its wood together was drained. The young wheat in the fields says they can feel the mill's sadness—it's like a song gone silent. The old miller, Gareth's father, carved this gear himself with a branch from the Hollowood oak, and he enchanted it to match the river's rhythm. Now that magic's almost gone."
Su Qing flipped open her Arcane Manual, her fingers tracing ancient runes on its pages. "We need two things: a new gear carved from enchanted wood, and runes to reawaken the mill's magic. The acorn from Hollowood—if we plant it now, Xiao Ya can speed its growth with her powers. That wood will hold the enchantment perfectly." She looked at Gareth. "Do you have iron bands to reinforce the gear? And river stone dust? It'll help the runes bond to the wood."
Gareth's face lit up. "My son, Tomas, is the village carpenter—he can carve the gear in a heartbeat. We've got iron bands from the old plows, and river stone dust from the mill's foundation. Tomas!" he shouted toward the village. A teenage boy with a chisel tucked behind his ear came running, his eyes alight at the sight of the broken gear.
"I've been sketching new gear designs for days!" Tomas exclaimed, pulling a crumpled paper from his pocket. "If the wood's enchanted, I can make it fit like it was meant to be. I just need the wood—and a little luck."
Lin Che pulled the Hollowood acorn from his pocket, its surface still warm. He knelt by the mill's outer wall, dug a small hole in the fertile soil, and placed the acorn inside. Xiao Ya laid her hands over the spot, her green light sinking into the earth. A shoot sprouted within seconds, growing into a thin sapling, then a sturdy young tree—its trunk thick enough for carving in mere minutes. The air smelled of fresh oak, and the river's current seemed to pick up speed, as if greeting the familiar wood.
Tomas wasted no time. He grabbed his axe, chopped a section of the trunk, and carried it into the mill. With chisel and hammer, he worked swiftly, shaping the wood into a gear that matched the shattered one's size, then fitting iron bands around its edges. Mo Ying helped file down rough spots, her tools sparking as she smoothed the wooden teeth. Meanwhile, Su Qing mixed river stone dust with honey, painting glowing runes onto the gear's surface—runes for flow, grind, and endurance.
As the sun dipped low, they carried the enchanted gear to the mill's mechanism. Lin Che and Gareth lifted it into place, while Tomas tightened the bolts. Su Qing pressed her palm to the runes, and they blazed to life, casting gold light across the mill's interior. When Gareth pulled the lever, the gear clicked into place, and the mill wheel creaked to life—slow at first, then spinning faster as the river's current caught it. The sound of grinding filled the air, clear and steady, as if the mill had never fallen silent.
The villagers cheered, swarming the mill with sacks of grain. Tomas fed the first sack into the hopper; moments later, fine, fragrant flour poured out, drifting like snow. Children laughed as they caught handfuls of the warm flour, and women began baking loaves of bread in the mill's stone oven at once.
That night, the villagers held a feast beside the river. They served crusty bread slathered with honey, creamy porridge made from milled oats, and a pie filled with berries from Stonehaven. Gareth raised a wooden cup, his voice booming over the murmur of the crowd. "You didn't just fix a gear—you gave the mill its soul back. This mill will grind grain for our children, and their children, all because of your kindness."
Before dawn, Gareth pressed a small wooden box into Lin Che's hands. Inside lay a tiny, carved replica of the mill wheel, its edges inlaid with the same runes Su Qing had used. "It's enchanted too," Gareth said. "When you're lost, it'll point you toward water—and toward people who need help. Just like you helped us."
Lin Che tucked the box into his pocket, feeling its smooth surface. The dashboard of the starship now held the replica mill wheel alongside the acorn, the stone jar, and the tide shell—each trinket a chapter of their journey.
Su Qing unfolded Li Wei's map, her finger resting on a coastal village to the east. "Crimson Cove. Li Wei's notes say their lighthouse has gone dark. Ships are crashing on the rocks, and fishermen can't sail out to sea."
Mo Ying revved the starship's engines, grinning. "Dark lighthouse? We've fixed enchanted mills and dying forests—lighting a lighthouse should be a breeze. Let's go shine some light on their trouble."
The starship lifted off, and the group waved goodbye to Gareth, Tomas, and the villagers. Below, the mill wheel spun merrily, its runes glowing in the morning light, as flour dust drifted over the golden wheat fields. The river sang alongside the mill, a harmonious tune that carried on the wind.
Lin Che glanced at the mill wheel replica in his hand. It glowed softly, matching the Star Marrow on his wrist. Their journey was far from over—there were more villages to help, more wounds to heal, and more stories to weave into the tapestry of their quest.
"Crimson Cove," Lin Che said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Let's light that lighthouse."
The starship turned east, cutting through the clear southern sky, toward the sea and the next village waiting for their help.