The Light Beyond emberveil

The Silence Before the Storm

The sky hung heavy with warning.

For the first time in days, the wind had stilled. Not a single leaf stirred, not a bird called. It was the kind of silence that pressed on the chest—a silence that meant something terrible was waiting to break free.

Ariah stood beside a stream, staring at the rippling water. She hadn’t told the others, but since the encounter with the shadowy figure in the woods, the flame in her lantern had pulsed irregularly—almost as if it were frightened.

She gripped the wooden cross the boy had given her, its carved edges worn from her fingers.

Behind her, Mira approached, voice gentle but firm. “We need to move. Jalen says the Shadow King’s forces are no longer scattered. They’re marching now—together.”

“Where?” Ariah asked, not turning.

“Everywhere,” said Rael, appearing on the other side of the stream. “He’s not just targeting you anymore. He’s declaring war.”

That word settled like ice in her stomach.

---

They gathered that night in a crumbling temple on the edge of the Whispering Plains. The torchlight flickered over their faces as Jalen unrolled a map etched with glowing lines.

“Three attacks. All within hours of each other. Villages razed. Families gone. It’s a coordinated strike. He’s drawing us out.”

“No,” Ariah said quietly. “He’s trying to divide us. Break us down before the final blow.”

Rael’s brow furrowed. “Then we strike back.”

Mira shook her head. “If we scatter, we’ll fall. He’s stronger now. More organized. And he has spies. We need to stay together—and protect what light remains.”

Jalen looked at Ariah. “What do you say, Flamebearer?”

The title hit harder than it ever had. Her flame still burned, but not like before. Something had shifted. The darkness was learning—changing its tactics.

“He wants me to fear what’s coming,” she said. “But the silence before a storm doesn’t mean we’re helpless.”

She stood.“It means we have time to prepare.”

The next morning, Ariah led her companions to the abandoned Watchtower of Elinvar—a place once used by the Lightguard in the wars of old. Overgrown, crumbling, but sacred.

Here, they would gather survivors.

Here, they would train those who still believed.

Here, they would wait—not with fear, but with purpose.

And when the storm came...

They would not face it in silence.