The wind wasn't supposed to whisper.
But that morning, as the sun barely touched the rooftops of the quiet village, Alina heard it—clear as a voice calling her name.
"Run."
She froze in the middle of the dirt road, her basket slipping slightly from her hands. Around her, everything seemed normal. Chickens clucked. A vendor shouted about fresh bread. Children laughed as they chased each other.
But the wind brushed past her again.
"Run… before they find you."
Alina's heart began to pound.
"Alina! What are you doing just standing there?" her younger brother called from behind. "Nanay said hurry!"
She turned to him, forcing a small smile. "Coming."
But something felt… wrong.
She had lived in this village her whole life. Nothing unusual ever happened here. No magic. No danger. Just the same peaceful routine every single day.
So why was the wind talking?
As she continued walking, the air around her grew colder. A strange silence followed—like the world itself was holding its breath.
Then she saw them.
Three figures standing at the edge of the village.
Cloaked. Still. Watching.
Her grip tightened on the basket.
"Run."
This time, the voice was louder.
And she listened.
The basket fell to the ground as Alina turned and sprinted through the narrow paths, her breath coming fast and uneven. She didn't know who those people were—but deep inside, she knew one thing:
They weren't here by accident.
They were looking for someone.
Her.