The Girl Who Spoke to Shadows

In the heart of a forgotten valley, where the sun took longer to rise and the night lingered like a watchful spirit, there stood a small village named Velsmere. The people there lived simple lives — farming, praying, and keeping their doors shut once the stars appeared.

But not everyone feared the dark.

A girl named Elira, no older than seventeen, would walk beneath the moonlight without fear. She had long black hair that rippled like water, and her eyes shimmered like glass. People said she was strange. People said she spoke to shadows.

No one knew where she came from.

She had arrived in Velsmere five years ago, barefoot and silent, carrying a small silver bell around her neck. An old widow named Marta took her in, fed her, and gave her the name Elira, meaning "light" in the old tongue.

At first, the villagers were kind.

But soon they noticed how animals followed her, how the wind whispered when she passed, how even the forest grew silent in her presence. Whispers became rumors, and rumors became warnings.

“She’s not one of us,” they would say. “She listens to the dark.”

But Elira never tried to defend herself. She wandered the fields at dusk, sang to the crows, and always returned just before midnight. Marta warned her to stay indoors. Elira would only smile and say, “I have friends out there.”

Then, the disappearances began.

First, it was the hunter’s dog. Then the blacksmith’s son. Then two sheep from the mayor’s field vanished under a sky without a moon. Fear spread like fire. The villagers held meetings. Some said wolves had returned. Others whispered about the old legends — about shadow spirits that walked the mountains.

They looked to Elira.

One evening, a group of angry villagers came to Marta’s home, torches in hand. They demanded Elira answer for the vanishing. But she was already gone.

Out in the woods.

Waiting.

Elira stood in a clearing where the moonlight barely touched the ground. She closed her eyes, and the shadows moved. They danced around her like smoke, taking shape — tall, thin, with glowing eyes like embers.

"You've taken too much," she whispered. "They’re afraid now."

The shadows hissed.

"You made a promise," one of them said. "Let us feed, or we feed on you."

Elira trembled but held her ground. “You promised peace when I called you back. No blood. No fear.”

The shadows grew restless. They circled her.

"You are ours, child of the bell."

She touched the bell around her neck. It rang once — soft and clear.

The sound cut through the forest like sunlight. The shadows shrieked and recoiled. Elira raised her voice.

"You fed in silence. Now face the light."

A beam of moonlight broke through the clouds, falling upon the clearing. The shadows screamed as the light touched them. One by one, they vanished into the trees, hissing curses into the wind.

Elira collapsed to her knees.

She had won — for now.

By morning, she returned to Velsmere. Dirty, tired, and silent.

The villagers watched from their windows. They had seen the strange light from the woods. They felt the cold wind disappear. Something had changed.

No one questioned Elira again.

Marta embraced her tightly, whispering thanks into her tangled hair.

The disappearances stopped. The forest grew quiet. The people of Velsmere still kept their doors shut at night, but now they left a candle burning on their porches — not out of fear, but in quiet respect.

For the girl who spoke to shadows.

And made them listen. SAHIB

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