The rain had stopped just before dawn, leaving behind a glistening coat on the cobblestone paths of Elderwood. Noura sat alone in her small kitchen, fingers curled around a cup of lukewarm tea she had long forgotten to drink. She stared at the door, heart pounding from a conversation that had unsettled her soul.
The night before, a stranger had arrived in Elderwood—a tall man cloaked in layers of ash-grey robes, his eyes glowing with a faint luminescence. He called himself Eloran, and the moment he stepped into Noura's stall, something ancient stirred.
"You don't belong here," he had said softly, after everyone else had left. "And I don't mean this village. I mean this world."
Noura had frozen. It wasn't the first time she had felt like an outsider, but this was the first time someone had confirmed it aloud. Eloran continued, his voice calm and eerie.
"The threads between worlds grow thinner. I can feel them trembling around you. Your presence here... it's not without reason."
He didn't explain further. With a knowing nod, he had left into the shadows of the alley. But his words lingered, more haunting than any ghost.
Noura snapped out of her thoughts as the bell above the kitchen door jingled. She looked up, surprised to see Elias standing there, his usual confident posture slightly slouched.
"Good morning," he said, offering a crooked smile. He held a basket covered with cloth. "You weren't at the stall, so I thought I'd bring breakfast."
Noura blinked. "Breakfast?"
He nodded and gently set the basket on the table. As he removed the cloth, a warm, comforting aroma wafted into the room—lemongrass, turmeric, and a faint scent of tamarind. It hit Noura with such familiarity that tears stung her eyes.
Elias carefully poured the contents into a shallow bowl. It was ikan kuah kuning—a vibrant yellow fish soup that Noura hadn't seen since her childhood visits to Manado with her grandmother.
"I asked Mika about your favorite flavors," Elias said. "And I remembered you once talked about a fish soup your grandma made. I tried to recreate it... maybe it's not quite right."
Noura sat down slowly, gazing into the bowl as if it held a reflection of her past. "It's perfect," she whispered.
They ate in quiet companionship, the silence tender rather than awkward. The warmth of the broth seeped into her chest, calming the storm Eloran had stirred.
"Did something happen?" Elias asked gently. "You've looked distant since yesterday."
Noura hesitated. But the food, the gesture, the familiar comfort—it broke the dam she had built inside.
"Someone came to the stall," she began. "He... knew about me. That I'm not from this world."
Elias's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't interrupt. Noura continued, her voice low.
"He said the threads between worlds are weakening. That maybe I'm here for a reason. But he didn't say what that reason is."
"Do you believe him?" Elias asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Part of me wants to. Because then all of this—dying, being reborn here, the struggles—it wouldn't be meaningless. But another part of me... is scared. What if I'm supposed to leave someday? What if this place isn't meant to be home?"
Elias looked at her for a long time, then set down his spoon. "Can I tell you something?"
She nodded.
"I lost my parents during the Southern War," he said quietly. "I was seventeen. They were healers, stationed near the front lines. I was supposed to join them later that month, but I delayed my journey to take the hunter's trial. When the village got word of the attack... I never forgave myself."
Noura's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected this—this mirror of grief, of guilt.
"I became a wanderer after that. A sword, a bag, and nothing to tie me down. I thought it would be easier to forget if I kept moving. But it wasn't. Grief follows you like a shadow."
He looked up at her, and his voice softened.
"Then I met you."
Noura's eyes widened.
"Your food, your smile, the way you talk about spices as if they hold the secrets of the universe—it made me want to stay in one place again. You reminded me of the good things that still exist."
A tear slid down her cheek.
"Elias... before I came here, I worked all the time. I never cooked, never traveled. My life was a cycle of deadlines and tired eyes. I told myself I'd pursue my dreams later, but 'later' never came. I died before I ever lived."
The silence stretched between them like an invisible bridge.
"But here," she said, voice trembling, "I feel alive again. And that scares me, because if I have to leave—if this world isn't mine to keep—then everything I've built, including... us... might disappear."
Elias reached across the table and took her hand.
"Maybe we don't know how much time we have," he said. "But that doesn't make the moments we share any less real."
Noura gripped his fingers tightly. For once, she allowed herself to believe that happiness didn't need permanence to matter.
Later that evening, the stall opened again. Mika and Lira returned to help, delighted that Noura seemed more herself. The smell of grilled herbs and spices filled the air, and customers trickled in with familiar smiles.
Noura stood beside the grill, flipping skewers of marinated rootfish, when Elias walked up behind her.
"You okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "Better. And hungry."
"Perfect timing. I saved the last bowl of ikan kuah kuning. Thought maybe it could be our late dinner."
She laughed. "You really want to steal my job, don't you?"
He leaned in with a teasing grin. "Maybe I just want an excuse to cook for the woman I care about."
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't pull away.
"Then I guess I'll have to return the favor tomorrow. I'm thinking something with sambal this time. Let's see if your brave adventurer's stomach can handle true heat."
He raised an eyebrow. "Challenge accepted."
As laughter mingled with the clatter of plates and chatter of villagers, Noura glanced at the stars overhead. The sky might hold secrets she couldn't unravel, but tonight, on this tiny patch of earth, she had found something that mattered.
And that flavor—tender, warm, spiced with longing—was something she would never forget.
READ MORE CHAPTER ON PATREON: https://www.patreon.com/collection/1469860