Farville 🧑‍🌾

The earth breathes.
The sky watches.

Ten relics of hunger shimmer beneath the stars,
not forged, not found,
but grown where no hope should sprout.

He has crossed kingdoms for less.
But never for this.

Each pulse from the soil is a heartbeat from before the fall.
Each potato glows with the weight of what was lost.

And now, with sword lowered and fate rising,
he does not speak to gods, nor ghosts,
only to the soil that still remembers:

I'm looking for 10 Potatoes on /farville 🧑‍🌾