The sky turned gray by mid-morning, and the sound of drums from the festival rehearsal faded into the low hum of wind brushing over rooftops.
Maria stood near the garden behind their home, watching the clouds roll in. She held a wooden spoon like a sword, swinging it clumsily at the air. Her feet kicked up little puffs of dirt as she turned, tongue sticking out in focus.
"You'll break that," Axel said from behind, arms crossed.
"No, I won't. This is how real sword fighters train," Maria said proudly, pointing the spoon toward him.
Axel walked past her, carrying a bucket of laundry water. "Real sword fighters don't use cooking spoons."
Maria puffed her cheeks. "They do if the spoon is magical."
That made him stop. "Magical?"
"Yeah," she said, lowering her voice dramatically. "Forged by the forest witches from the wood of a singing tree. Only the pure-hearted can hold it."
Axel gave her a long look. Then he turned back toward the house. "You've been listening to too many of Papa's stories."
"Papa says stories have pieces of truth," she called after him.
He didn't reply, but he smiled a little when she couldn't see.
Inside, Ilena stirred a pot of stew, humming an old tune as the fire crackled under the hearth. The scent of dried herbs and root vegetables filled the air.
"Dry the laundry before the rain starts, Axel," she called.
"I'm trying," he replied, voice muffled through the window.
Maria walked in with muddy feet. Ilena caught her in a glance.
"Boots off. That floor doesn't wash itself."
Maria giggled and backed out the door, hopping on one foot as she pulled her shoes off.
Ilena shook her head. "Two suns and two moons, and they're still little storms."
Later that afternoon, the rain came.
Not hard, not loud. Just soft, cold drops that painted everything in silver. Axel sat under the porch roof with Maria beside him, their bare feet dangling just above the wet dirt.
They watched the road, quiet. Rain ticked against the wooden railing like tiny footsteps.
"Do you think the bell will ever ring again?" Maria asked suddenly.
Axel glanced sideways. "Why?"
"I don't know. I feel like… something's waiting for it."
He didn't like the way she said that.
"Don't get weird again."
"I'm not! I'm serious."
He sighed. "Mama said not to ask too many questions."
"But don't you wonder?"
Axel didn't answer.
Because he did.
That night, the storm grew.
Not thunder. Not lightning.
Just… heavy. Endless. Like the sky forgot how to stop crying.
Axel tossed under his blanket, staring at the ceiling. Maria lay facing the wall. Neither of them slept.
Then—softly—a knock.
Not on the door. On the window.
Axel sat up fast.
Knock. Knock. Scratch.
His breath held in his chest.
Maria turned. "Did you hear that?"
"Yeah."
They looked at the window. Nothing was there.
Axel got up slowly and crept to it. He lifted the curtain.
Raindrops.
Only raindrops.
But there—just barely—were faint marks on the glass. Like fingernails.
He backed away.
Maria had already pulled the blanket to her chin.
"Let's… let's just sleep," Axel whispered.
"Yeah…"
Neither of them moved.
Morning came with fog instead of sunlight. The kind that made everything feel like a dream.
Ilena seemed tired as she packed a small basket with herbs and glass bottles.
"I'll be back by sundown," she said, handing Axel a sealed pouch. "If anything happens, go to Old Kaeli's."
Axel frowned. "Where are you going?"
"To the forest edge. There's a woman with a fever. Elder Faen asked me to help."
Maria gripped her apron. "Can we come?"
Ilena smiled gently. "No, little moon. It's not safe."
"Is it because of the chapel?"
That made her freeze.
She didn't answer.
Just kissed them both on the forehead and left.
The door closed quietly behind her.
By midday, Axel was restless.
He fed the chickens. Maria swept the porch. They ate leftover stew.
And still… that feeling wouldn't leave.
Like something behind them was watching.
Axel stared at the pouch Ilena left. Dried sage, crushed saltroot, and a note.
"Keep the windows closed. And don't answer voices that call your name."
He read it three times.
"What do you think she meant?" Maria asked, sitting beside him on the floor.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
Then—outside—the chapel bell let out a single, distant ring.
Clong…
They froze.
Axel stood. "That wasn't real."
Maria shook her head. "It was."
They opened the door and peeked out.
The road was empty.
But in the fog, the chapel door now stood slightly open.
Axel's heart started thudding.
Then a second bell rang.
Clong…
And a shadow stepped out.
Not fast. Not close.
Just there.
Watching.
Maria pulled Axel back. "We shouldn't."
But he didn't move.
The figure stood near the chapel path. Not a person, not exactly. Too tall. Its robe swayed though there was no wind.
Axel stepped back inside and shut the door.
He bolted it.
Maria stared at the window. "It's not moving."
"Don't look at it."
"But—"
"Just don't!"
They sat against the wall. The rain had stopped. Everything was silent again.
Except for one sound.
Clong.
The bell rang one last time.
Then nothing.
When Ilena returned that night, the house was cold and dark. She stepped in and found Axel and Maria asleep by the hearth, curled up together under one blanket.
She smiled softly and stroked their hair.
But when she looked out the window toward the hill, her smile vanished.
The chapel door was open again.
She stared for a long time before whispering:
"…not yet."