Chapter 3: Whispers in the Dark

Eliza awoke to a sudden chill. The silence of the convent had grown heavier during the night, the air thick with something unexplainable. She sat up in bed, the soft rustle of her habit the only sound in the dim room. The faint light from the small window illuminated the room just enough for her to make out the stone walls that seemed to press in closer as the night wore on.

She rubbed her eyes, still groggy from the restless sleep that had barely come, and then heard it—soft whispers coming from the hallway. She froze. It was too early for the nuns to be awake. Eliza glanced at the clock on the wall, and sure enough, it was still well before dawn. The whispers seemed to draw nearer, soft and unintelligible, like an ancient language she couldn't understand. They echoed through the stone walls, filling the room with a sense of dread.

Eliza stood, moving cautiously toward the door. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The whispers grew louder as she neared the threshold, but when she opened the door, the hallway was empty. The stone floors were cold under her feet, the flickering candlelight casting strange shadows on the walls.

"Who's there?" she whispered into the darkness.

No answer.Just silence.

She closed the door behind her and returned to her bed, her heart pounding in her chest. She had imagined it, surely. The isolation, the strange silence—perhaps it was playing tricks on her mind. Still, the whispers lingered, soft and persistent, as though they were waiting for her to listen.

The next day passed like all the others—quiet, uneventful, and stifling. The nuns performed their duties in the same rhythmic silence, never speaking, never meeting anyone's gaze. Eliza attended the chapel and participated in the evening vespers, but each time, she felt the weight of the place pressing down on her. The air was thick with unspoken words, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. Not truly.

That night, as the bell tolled for evening prayer, Eliza found herself standing in the doorway of the chapel, watching the other nuns move in eerie synchrony. Their movements were smooth, practiced, but there was something unsettling about them, something... unnatural.

"Why do they never speak?" Eliza asked quietly, turning to one of the nuns who had silently appeared beside her. The woman’s face was obscured by the veil, but Eliza could sense her presence. The nun did not immediately answer, only continued to stare ahead. Then, in a voice as soft as the whispers she had heard the night before, she replied, "Some things are better left unsaid."

Eliza frowned, unsure of what to make of the response. "But why?" she pressed. "Why are they all so... distant?". The nun turned slowly toward her, and for the first time, Eliza felt a chill in the air as if the temperature had dropped by several degrees. The veil remained, but there was something about the woman's eyes—or what little she could see of them—that made her uneasy.

"They... listen," the nun whispered, her voice carrying a strange weight. "They have to listen. To the silence. To the things in the walls." Eliza took a step back, unsure of how to respond. "What things?"

The nun’s lips curled into a tight smile, but her eyes never left Eliza. "You will understand soon enough," she said cryptically, then turned and walked back toward the other nuns, who were already kneeling in prayer. Eliza watched her leave, her heart pounding in her chest. What had she meant? What things in the walls?

Dinner that evening was just as strange. The food was bland, tasteless, and the nuns ate without a word, without even looking at each other. Eliza couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, an intruder in this place where words were forbidden, and the silence felt almost alive. She glanced around, searching for some hint, some sign that this was all normal—but there was nothing. Only the soft clinking of silverware against plates and the flickering of candlelight.

Halfway through the meal, one of the nuns suddenly stood up and left without a word. Eliza watched her leave, puzzled. The behavior of the nuns was becoming more and more odd with each passing day.

"Where did she go?" Eliza asked quietly, turning to the nun seated next to her. The woman looked up at her, but her face was blank, void of emotion. She didn’t respond, only returned her gaze to the table, as if Eliza had never spoken. A cold wave of unease washed over Eliza. She had to know more—there was something wrong here, something hidden beneath the silence.

After the meal, Eliza stood up quickly, her chair scraping across the stone floor. The nun next to her looked up, but instead of speaking, she simply followed Eliza with her eyes as she made her way out of the dining hall.

Eliza walked down the hall toward the staircase that led deeper into the convent. The whispers returned, louder now, and this time, they seemed to be coming from behind the closed doors of the nearby rooms. She stopped, her hand on the cold doorknob, hesitant.

Without thinking, she turned the knob and stepped inside. The room was dark, the only light coming from a dim candle in the corner. The air was thick with dust, and the walls were lined with old, faded portraits of the nuns who had lived here long before her. But there, in the center of the room, stood a tall, ornate mirror. It was old, the glass slightly warped, but it glowed faintly in the dim light.

The whispers grew louder, more frantic, and Eliza stepped closer to the mirror, unable to resist. She stared into it, but instead of her own reflection, she saw only the darkness beyond. A shadow flickered in the corner of the glass, something moving—no, someone.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a step back.

"Eliza…" came a voice, faint but clear, as though it were speaking directly into her mind. Her heart raced. She spun around, but there was no one there. The door creaked behind her, and she quickly turned to see the nun who had appeared earlier, her face once again hidden beneath the veil. "You should not be here," the nun whispered, her voice low and warning. "The mirror is not for your eyes."

Eliza took a step toward the door, her pulse pounding in her ears. "What is it? What’s happening here?" The nun’s hand shot out, grabbing Eliza’s wrist. "You will learn the truth soon enough. But until then, you must be silent. You must listen." Eliza pulled her hand away, her eyes wide with fear. She didn’t want to stay here, not with the whispers, the strange behavior, and the unsettling presence of the mirror. But as she turned to leave, she could have sworn she heard a voice—her name, whispered again from the depths of the convent.

"Eliza…"

The silence of the convent closed in around her, and she was left with more questions than answers.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***