Morning light crept through the cracks in the wooden shutters, spilling golden strips across the floorboards. Birds chirped lazily in the trees outside, and the smell of baked barley and plum jam floated in from the kitchen.
Axel rolled over in bed, hair stuck out in every direction. He blinked. Then blinked again.
Maria was already sitting up on her mattress across the room, poking her cheeks with her fingers.
"What are you doing?"
"Making faces. I dreamed I had fish lips."
Axel rubbed his eyes. "You're weird."
"Mama says I'm creative."
He grunted, got up, and started pulling on his shirt. "Creative and weird mean the same thing."
Maria stuck out her tongue.
The whole village was buzzing with festival energy that morning. People carried streamers, bright cloths, and baskets of dyed flowers. The town's Summer Sun Festival was only two days away, and even the grumpiest uncles in Drevane were helping string lanterns between the rooftops.
"Careful with that pole!" a woman shouted as two men nearly toppled a fruit stand.
Children ran barefoot across the cobbled paths, chasing little floating charms made of bark and feathers. Axel and Maria were among them, weaving between legs and baskets and stray chickens.
They passed by the pottery booth, where Miss Kaeli was yelling at her cat for trying to sleep inside a bowl of wet clay. Then they cut through the baker's alley, where the scent of cinnamon and roasted nuts made Maria slow down.
"Let's go get some before they sell out," she said.
Axel raised an eyebrow. "Didn't Mama say to come straight back after errands?"
Maria gave him a sly smile. "So we'll come back with sticky hands. She'll forgive us when she smells it."
They ran off, laughing, unaware that someone from behind the herb shop was watching them.
At the bread stall, Axel dropped a coin and picked two rolls coated with honey glaze. Maria picked the one with poppy seeds. They found a quiet spot near the edge of the square and sat on a short stone wall, legs swinging.
"She's gonna scold us," Axel said through a mouthful.
Maria shrugged. "She scolds us even when we do nothing."
"She only scolds you."
"That's because you blame everything on me."
"I do not!"
She stuck a bit of her sticky roll on his nose.
Axel stopped near the center of the square and looked up. "They still haven't hung the festival bell."
Maria followed his gaze. The chapel tower stood quiet. Empty. The hook where the iron bell used to hang was bare.
"They won't put it back," said an old woman nearby. She was weaving lavender into small wreaths. "Not since the fire."
Axel blinked. "What fire?"
"The one that cursed the bell. Years ago."
Before Axel could ask more, the woman gave him a small smile and turned back to her work. Maria tugged on his sleeve.
"Come on. Let's go find the bread stall before Mama sees us sneaking off."
As they headed off, the old woman looked toward the chapel again, her fingers pausing over the lavender. A shadow had shifted behind the stained-glass window.
That night, the village sparkled like a painting. Candlelight flickered from every window, music drifted in faint strings from someone's old fiddle, and warm food smells clung to the air. There was dancing in the square. Even Axel and Maria joined, stepping clumsily around a ring of laughing kids.
Afterwards, they returned home, tired and full. Ilena tucked them in with warm goat's milk and a soft warning: "No creeping around at night. The festival spirits don't like to be disturbed."
Maria frowned. "Spirits?"
Ilena gave her a gentle smile. "It's just an old saying. Go to sleep, little moon."
Axel couldn't sleep. Again.
But Maria? She was tossing and turning, mumbling in her sleep.
"Cold… too cold…"
He sat up. "Maria?"
She turned away, arms clutched around herself. Her lips moved again. "It's dark. It's… watching."
Axel slowly stepped off the bed and went to her side. "Maria, wake up. You're dreaming."
She bolted up suddenly, gasping.
"Hey—hey, it's okay! It's just a dream!" Axel whispered, steadying her.
She looked around, sweat on her forehead. "I… saw the chapel."
Axel's stomach sank.
"It was open. The door. And… something inside. It didn't have a face. It just watched me."
They were silent.
Outside, the wind pressed against the walls. Then—faintly—a clink of metal.
Axel rushed to the window. Nothing.
"Go back to sleep," he said quietly.
Maria didn't reply.
The next day, their mother took them to the edge of the village where the festival rehearsals were being held.
A troupe of dancers practiced in the clearing. Bright paper masks were hung on a fence. Musicians tuned their flutes and drums. There was laughter, but Axel noticed the adults whispering.
He tugged at Ilena's sleeve. "Mama, why don't they ring the chapel bell?"
She stiffened.
"That bell doesn't ring anymore. It's better that way."
"But why—"
She placed a hand on his head, soft but firm. "Some questions don't need answers yet, Axel. Come. Help me carry the baskets."
Maria watched the chapel from across the hill.
The door was still shut.
But she could've sworn she heard it creak the night before.
Somewhere deep inside her, a chill settled.
Later that afternoon, Ilena scolded them for sneaking sweets again. Maria tried to blame Axel. Axel blamed Maria. Their mother sighed, waving a wooden spoon in the air.
"You two will be the end of me."
They laughed, bumping shoulders as they helped her hang red streamers by the doorway.
That night, Maria didn't dream. Not really. But she did wake up suddenly, as if someone had whispered her name. She sat upright, heart pounding, and stared out the window.
The chapel tower stood dark.
But she could hear the faintest tink... like a chain gently swaying in the wind.
She closed her eyes.
And for a moment… she felt like something behind that door was waiting.