Chapter Fourteen: The Whisper Beyond the Falls

Siora held Lyra close, her arms wrapped protectively around the trembling child. The campfire flickered behind them, casting long shadows that danced across the canvas of the tent. Lyra's breath came in short, shallow bursts, her head buried against Siora's chest.

Then—

The wind shifted.

Not a natural breeze, but a focused current—sharp and deliberate. It blew from one direction only, as if the forest itself had parted to carve a narrow path through the dense trees. The fire outside bent toward it, unnaturally, unnervingly.

Lyra's eyes widened. Her small hands flew to her head.

"Come… follow the path," came the whisper again. A voice only she could hear. Male. Ancient. Heavy with expectation.

"He is waiting."

She pressed her palms tighter over her ears. "No—no, make it stop," she whimpered, curling deeper into Siora's arms. "Something's calling me. It won't stop."

Siora gently tilted her chin upward. Lyra's face was pale. Her body trembled.

Then the sky cracked open.

Lightning split the heavens with a thunderous roar, illuminating the forest in one blinding flash. Every tree, every leaf, every shadow was etched into visibility—for a breath—and then it all collapsed into darkness again.

Siora stood. "Come. Inside."

She scooped Lyra into her arms and rushed into the tent. Aylea and Thalen followed, their faces tight with fear. Outside, Daran barked orders—double the guard around the perimeter.

Wrapped in thick blankets, Lyra eventually drifted into sleep, cradled in Siora's lap.

But the forest wasn't done.

"Come…"

The voice returned. Lyra stirred.

Eyes still closed, she sat up.

Then she stood.

Aylea gasped. "She's… sleepwalking."

"Daran!" Siora called, panic rising.

He stepped inside just as Lyra reached the tent's entrance. Siora moved to stop her, but Daran gently caught her wrist.

"Wait," he said. "Let's see where she goes."

Lyra stepped outside.

The guards parted in silence as the girl walked past. Her feet moved with eerie precision—like she was tracing a memory carved into the earth long before her birth.

Into the woods she went. And all followed.

Siora. Aylea. Thalen. Daran. Two guards. All silent as they trailed her through the hush of damp leaves and sleeping trees. The only sound was Lyra's steady breath… and the rustle of something unseen.

Siora's voice cracked—a whisper meant for no one. "No… no, she can't be the one."

But Aylea and Thalen heard her.

The one?

Lyra stopped.

Before them rose a cliff, veiled in cascading water. A silver-white waterfall plunged into a dark pool below, and mist curled upward like breath from the deep.

Lyra raised her hand.

She pointed.

Then collapsed.

"Lyra!" Siora rushed to her side. Daran was already there, kneeling. He pressed two fingers to her neck. Still breathing.

"Take her back," he told the guards.

They lifted her carefully and carried her back to camp. Siora, Aylea, and Thalen followed in silence.

But Daran stayed.

Later, after Lyra had been laid back in the tent, Siora returned to find Daran still at the falls.

He didn't turn as he spoke. "You feel it too, don't you? Something's wrong. That waterfall—it doesn't belong here."

Siora narrowed her eyes. The air was too still. The mist never stopped rising. And the waterfall made no echo.

Its sound… was being swallowed.

"Yes," she murmured. "I feel it too."

Morning.

Birdsong stirred the camp. Pots clanged softly, warriors stretched sore limbs, fires were rekindled.

Everyone was up.

Except Lyra.

At first, no one disturbed her. But as the sun reached its peak and she still didn't stir, Aylea grew anxious and ran to find Siora.

Siora dropped everything and entered the tent.

One look at Lyra's still form was enough.

Daran appeared behind her, grim. Without a word, he lifted Lyra into his arms and carried her back to the waterfall.

He laid her gently on the mossy stone at its base. The mist curled around her like tendrils searching for something lost.

Minutes passed. Stillness reigned.

Then—

Lyra stirred.

Her eyes fluttered open. Confused. Sleep-heavy.

"Why am I here?" she asked softly.

Siora knelt beside her and cupped her cheek. "You're safe now. That's what matters."

Daran stood at the edge, staring into the falls as though waiting for them to speak.

Without another word, they returned to camp.

The wind shifted again.

But this time—it whispered to no one.