The next morning, the sky was pale and heavy. By noon, it had turned gray. By evening, black clouds rolled in from the horizon, swallowing the sun.
The villagers panicked. "It's happening again!" someone cried.
Thunder cracked, louder than before. Lightning split the sky, jagged and fierce. Rain poured in sheets, flooding the paths.
"Where do we go?" Elder Ramos shouted, his voice trembling.
Lira stepped forward, thumb in her mouth, listening. The wind screamed: The cave again. Hurry.
She pointed toward the cliffs. "To the cave! Now!"
The villagers didn't hesitate this time. Mothers grabbed children, fathers carried baskets, elders leaned on staffs. Together they followed Lira through the storm.
The rain lashed against their faces, the wind pushed them back, but she led them steadily. The cave loomed ahead, dark and wide, and they rushed inside.
The storm raged worse than before. Waves crashed against the cliffs, roofs tore away, boats shattered. The village below was swallowed by water.
Inside the cave, the people huddled together, trembling. Cindy clutched her mother's hand. Timmy stared at Lira, his eyes wide. "You saved us again," he whispered.
Lira sat quietly, thumb pressed against her lips, listening. The wind's voice was softer now, almost proud: You are the keeper of silence. They will believe.
When dawn broke, the village was nearly gone. But the people were alive. And this time, no one doubted her.