Quiet Before the Storm

The sun was already climbing when Arlen returned, a basket slung over his arm. The quiet of the forest trailed behind him as he stepped into the cottage. Liora and Elara were still asleep — both breathing evenly, the kind of deep rest that only exhaustion allows.

He carefully placed the bundle of clothes on the chair beside the bed — soft fabrics in gentle tones, with a pair of simple leather shoes on top. A small smile crossed his face. “That should do,” he murmured to himself.

Moving quietly, he removed his cloak and rolled up his sleeves. The air still carried faint scents of ash and wild herbs, grounding him in the simple rhythm of the morning. He stoked the embers in the hearth until they glowed, then reached for a pot and a handful of fresh ingredients he had picked up at the market.

The cottage slowly filled with the scent of warm bread and herbs simmering in broth. Outside, birds began to stir; inside, the world seemed to hold its breath in a fragile calm.

For a moment, Arlen allowed himself to believe that everything might stay peaceful — that somehow, this could last.

But then came a scream. Short, terrified, as if someone’s dream had shattered in midair.

Liora’s cry sliced through the morning like breaking glass. Arlen nearly spilled the pot of boiling water and sprang upright.

“What the—” Elara sat up on her bed, confused and tousled.

“Arlen? What was that?”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice calm, though his heart was racing. “Just a friend. Maybe a nightmare startled her.”

Elara looked at him skeptically but trusted him enough not to move. Arlen stepped toward the curtain where Liora was, now silent.

“Liora?” he called. “Are you all right?”

“No… don’t come closer, please!” Her voice trembled, fearful, almost desperate.

Arlen froze, his hand hanging midair. “What’s happening?”

A short exhale, as if gathering courage: “Arlen… something happened. I… changed.”

“Changed?” he echoed, confused.

“When I woke up…” her voice barely above a whisper, “I wasn’t like before. And… my clothes are gone.”

Silence. Long, awkward, absurd.

Arlen rubbed his forehead with his fingers and exhaled through his nose. “Of course. Because that’s a completely normal thing to happen… in the morning.”

He glanced at the chair where he had left the fresh clothes, feeling almost relieved they were there at all.

Without a word, he reached for the clothes he had laid out earlier. He stepped closer to the curtain, turned his head away, and extended his hand across.

“Here,” he said quietly, almost awkwardly. Then his lips twitched slightly. “As if I knew I had to buy them.”

From behind the curtain came a soft exhale, almost laughter, and the rustle of fabric as Liora took the clothes. Arlen froze for a moment, then drew a deep breath as if to steady himself.

He moved to Elara, who was now sitting at the table, still half-asleep but alert enough to search for answers with her eyes.

“Who is she, Arlen?” she asked cautiously.

“A friend,” he said calmly. Then, more softly: “She’s currently without a home. I thought it right to offer her shelter.”

Elara studied him with a serious, almost adult expression. Arlen continued, voice gentle, as if explaining something entirely ordinary:

“While she’s here, she can show you a bit about herbs. She knows more than Saira, and that says something.”

A corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Elara glanced at him, then finally relaxed and nodded.

“All right,” she said. “But if she’s going to sleep here, she also has to help with cooking.”

Arlen smiled and looked toward the curtain. “I think she’ll agree.”

The air in the cottage settled. Only the scent of morning food and the soft rustle of fabric from the other side, where Liora quietly moved — and for the first time in a long while, Arlen realized the silence at home felt pleasant again.

The curtain slowly shifted. First the light, then the outline of her form, and finally, she stepped out — barefoot, hair slightly tousled, wearing simple clothes that fit her better than Arlen could have imagined.

For a moment, his breath caught. Nothing dazzling, nothing grand, yet in that simplicity was something almost supernatural. That quiet, restrained dignity he could not explain.

“Arlen?” she said softly, tentatively, as if afraid she sounded too loud.

He started, as if suddenly remembering he had to appear normal. “Yes, hm… good morning, Liora.” His voice cracked slightly, which even half-asleep Elara noticed.

Liora smiled awkwardly. “Sorry for the morning scream.”

“Ah, nothing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “At least now I know the clothes weren’t wasted.”

Elara sat at the table, still pale but with eyes slowly returning to life. When she saw Liora, she paused — as if seeing something her mind could not explain.

Liora stood still in the morning light streaming through the window, catching in her hair. Her simple outfit followed her movements gently, but in her gaze was something that did not fully belong in this world.

Elara held her breath. “You look… almost magical,” she said sincerely, without a trace of joking.

Liora’s face warmed gently. Her eyes fell to the floor. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Arlen, observing, simply smiled — that quiet, patient smile that spoke more than he would ever admit. He said nothing, yet something softened within him.

For a moment, the cottage held a comfortable silence. Only the crackling fire and the scent of breakfast mixed with the sense that this moment was more important than it seemed.

Arlen stepped closer, cautiously, as if moving might shatter the scene. “How do you feel?”

“Strange,” she admitted. “But… safe.”

His gaze softened for a moment. “Then it’s all as it should be.”

In that silence, among the smell of bread and herbs, Arlen suddenly realized that mornings had never surprised him like this before.

Liora quietly sat at the table. Her movements were careful, almost timid, as if still adjusting to the body she now inhabited. Elara watched her warmly but had not enough strength to rise.

Arlen, meanwhile, placed the bowls before them and sat opposite, eating in silence, eyes glued to his plate while his mind wandered.

How could it be that everything seemed softer, less harsh, with her nearby? Why did it feel as if this calm were only a lull before something else? And why, with everything happening, was he worried he might have to say goodbye again tomorrow?

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice when Elara asked something.

“Arlen…?” Quietly, almost timidly. Nothing.

She rolled her eyes as best she could, then drew in a breath. “Arlen! Good morning!”

It hit him like a bolt. “What?” He raised his gaze, jaw almost dropping.

“I thought you had turned into a statue,” she said with a smile.

“Just… thinking,” he mumbled, glancing at his bowl, then involuntarily at Liora — just for a moment.

Liora smiled gently, saying nothing. Elara noticed and nodded to herself, as if confirming something.

“Of course, thinking,” she said half-jokingly. “Apparently very deeply.”

Arlen returned his attention to the soup. The bowl felt safer than reality.

After breakfast, Arlen gently took Elara by the hand and led her outside. The fresh morning air immediately awakened them, filled their lungs with the scents of the forest and the slightly cool breeze.

Liora followed behind. Her new human body moved naturally, almost simply. She leaned over Elara and began explaining herbs, her fingers brushing leaves and flowers, her voice soft and calm as she described their properties and uses.

Arlen stood slightly apart, hands in his pockets, head tilted downward, trying to clear his thoughts. Yet a quiet, chilling sense of foreboding still lingered in his mind, and the more he tried to focus, the more confused he became.

Suddenly, Kael and Saira appeared among the trees. Their eyes froze on Liora.

“What… no way,” Kael muttered, completely astonished.

“How is this possible…” Saira added, his expression a mix of disbelief and wonder.

Arlen stepped closer, trying to control his voice, though the shock held him back — he did not yet understand that Liora had fully shifted into human form.

Yet now a real advantage existed — Liora could blend with her surroundings more easily, her new appearance allowing her to move safely among humans for as long as needed.

Liora smiled at Elara and continued her explanations, unaware of the astonishment around her. Arlen drew a deep breath, attempting to clear his mind, while Kael kept staring, and Saira quietly asked, “How is this possible?”

Saira quietly moved toward Liora and Elara, sitting with them on the grass, listening as Liora described herbs. Her gaze followed Liora’s hands gently handling the flowers, and she smiled faintly.

Kael remained beside Arlen, hands at his sides, eyes fixed on the scene before them.

“And what will you do now?” Kael finally asked, his voice quietly concerned.

Arlen paused, gaze fixed on the horizon where the forest swayed in the morning breeze. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a silence that lasted too long. “But I know we are all in danger. Even our kingdom.”

Kael looked at him seriously, eyes filled with unspoken understanding. He didn’t know what Arlen would do, nor how it would all unfold. Yet he noticed something that simultaneously frightened and fascinated him — the way nature responded to Arlen.

The wind rustled the grass, birds paused mid-flight, leaves shimmered as if listening. He did not understand why, could not explain it, but something whispered that this young man might be the key to the future — perhaps even the kingdom’s salvation.

Kael said nothing. No one should know this. Even Arlen himself did not fully grasp it yet. But Kael’s gaze at him was filled with silent comprehension.

The silence between them was dense, heavy, yet full of potential. Kael knew the coming days would be decisive, and that everything would depend on whether Arlen could listen to the world around him and awaken his inner strength.