The Villagers’ Whispers

The absence of the Weaver did not go unnoticed for long. Lyra and Meera, along with a few other villagers, spotted the faint shimmering trail left behind by its retreating form.

“What do you think happened?” asked Jorin, the village’s carpenter, his rough hands still gripping the edge of a half-carved beam.

Meera frowned, glancing at the path where the Weaver had disappeared. “They don’t leave unless something’s wrong.”

Lyra nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “But they wouldn’t leave if it was something that threatened us directly. They’d stay to protect us.”

A murmur of agreement swept through the group. The villagers trusted the Creche, but their departure—rare as it was—always left a sense of unease.