Chapter 1: The Call to the Convent

The carriage rattled over the uneven mountain road, the rhythmic clop of hooves barely audible over the howling wind that seemed to grow louder with each passing mile. Sister Eliza sat quietly, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but her eyes darted anxiously from the mist-shrouded trees to the gray skies above. She hadn’t spoken a word to the coachman since they’d left the village hours ago. “Almost there,” the coachman muttered over his shoulder, his voice rough and dry. He didn't turn to look at her, but Eliza could sense something odd about his tone. It wasn’t reassuring—it was as if he were warning her. Eliza nodded, but the unease that had settled in her chest since they’d left the familiar sights of the village only seemed to grow stronger. She gripped her rosary tighter, the cold beads pressing into her palm. There was something unsettling about this place—the silence, the way the mist seemed to cling to the ground like a living thing. The trees surrounding the road grew thicker, their gnarled branches twisting and writhing in the wind, like hands reaching out from the shadows. The coachman didn’t seem to notice or care. But Eliza couldn’t help but feel as if the forest itself were watching them, listening to the soft creak of the carriage as it moved through the oppressive silence.

She cleared her throat, the silence unbearable.

“Excuse me… are we far from the convent?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Aye,” the coachman replied, his eyes never leaving the road. “You’ll see it soon enough. Just don’t ask too many questions, miss. Not everyone gets to come back once they’ve entered.”

Eliza’s heart skipped a beat, but the coachman said no more. His words hung in the air like a warning, though he spoke them with no more emotion than if he were talking about the weather.

The mist began to thicken, swirling around the wheels of the carriage. The coachman pulled the reins tighter, slowing the horse’s pace. The landscape had changed—it wasn’t the gentle rolling hills she’d been expecting. Now, jagged rocks and cliffs loomed ahead, cutting through the mist like silent sentinels. There was something unnatural about this place, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Another half hour passed in tense silence before the carriage finally came to a stop.

“We’re here,” the coachman said flatly, though his tone held no warmth. He swung open the door and stepped down to the muddy ground, barely glancing at Eliza as he waited.

Eliza hesitated for a moment before stepping out, her boots sinking slightly into the wet earth. The moment her feet hit the ground, a cold breeze whipped past her, sending a shiver down her spine. The towering stone walls of the convent appeared from the mist like a looming shadow, its high towers barely visible against the fog. A single bell tolled in the distance, its sound distant and eerie, as though the convent itself were calling her.

She stood there for a moment, the weight of the silence pressing down on her. Then, she looked at the coachman, who was already turning to go back to the carriage.

“Are you not coming inside?” Eliza asked, though she already had a feeling of what his answer would be.

The coachman paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. “You’ll be fine, Sister. The nuns are waiting for you.”

With that, he turned and walked back down the road, disappearing into the mist.

Eliza stood at the gates of the convent, feeling a strange chill creep up her spine. The air was heavy here, thick with an oppressive silence. It felt like the very walls were watching her, judging her. She gathered her courage and walked toward the iron gate, its rusted bars creaking under her touch as she pushed it open.

The courtyard was deserted. Not a soul in sight. The convent, ancient and looming, stood silent as ever, the stone walls darkened with age. A cold wind blew through the trees, carrying with it the faintest sound of chanting, though Eliza couldn’t see anyone.

"Hello?" she called, her voice swallowed by the emptiness. "Is anyone there?"

From behind her, the sound of footsteps approached, soft but deliberate. Eliza turned quickly, but there was no one there. Only the wind, whispering in the distance.

She felt an uneasy knot tighten in her stomach. The presence of the place was heavy, as if something—something ancient—was waiting. She could almost hear it, like a pulse beneath the stone, thudding softly in the air. Her heart raced.

“Welcome, Sister Eliza.”

The voice came from behind her, startling her. She turned quickly, and there stood a figure, draped in the same black habit as hers, the face obscured by a heavy veil. The woman’s posture was rigid, almost unnaturally so, as if she were carved from stone.

Eliza blinked, trying to compose herself. "I—I didn’t hear anyone approach."

The woman nodded, her veil hiding her expression. "You’ll get used to the silence here. It is... part of the peace we cultivate."

The words were odd, but Eliza didn’t press. She nodded instead, her nerves betraying her as she stepped closer to the woman. The faintest smile flickered across the nun’s lips.

"Come," the woman said, turning and beckoning her toward the convent’s entrance. "Mother Abbess is expecting you."

Eliza hesitated, then followed the nun inside, the heavy door creaking as it closed behind her. As she crossed the threshold, a shiver ran down her spine. The temperature dropped, and the air felt dense, heavy, as if the weight of centuries pressed down on her. A low hum filled the space, faint and almost imperceptible, but Eliza could feel it reverberating through her bones.

She looked up at the nun, who had already begun walking down the corridor.

"Is there... is there a reason why it’s so quiet?" Eliza asked, her voice quiet, almost as if afraid to disturb the stillness.

The nun paused but didn’t look back. "There are things... better left undisturbed."

With that, she continued walking, leaving Eliza to follow in silence.

The hairs on the back of Eliza’s neck stood on end, but she said nothing. She had come to find peace, she reminded herself. But the oppressive atmosphere of the convent already made her question whether she’d truly found the sanctuary she was seeking.

As they walked deeper into the heart of the convent, Eliza couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching her from the shadows.

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