Chapter 4: Beneath the Veil

The next morning, Eliza awoke with a lingering sense of dread that hadn't left her since the night before. The strange whispers in the hallway, the cryptic nun, and the mysterious mirror—all weighed heavily on her mind. She had to know what was happening within the convent. As she dressed in silence, her fingers trembling slightly as they worked the fabric of her habit, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the nuns were hiding something from her. The way they moved, so methodical, so eerily in sync, made her feel as if she were the only real person in a world of ghosts.

Downstairs, the chapel bell rang, signaling the start of morning prayers. Eliza stood before the door, hesitating. She had never felt this uncertain about something so simple as attending mass.

“Are you coming?” a voice suddenly broke the stillness. Eliza turned to find Sister Clara standing behind her, her face once again hidden beneath the veil. There was a soft kindness in her voice, but her presence felt unsettling, like something was waiting just beneath the surface.

Eliza nodded quickly, trying to push her discomfort aside. “Yes, I’m coming.”

They walked together in silence to the chapel, the usual soft shuffle of their footsteps now somehow more oppressive. When they entered, the air was thick with a peculiar tension. The nuns were already kneeling, their heads bowed, their movements slow and deliberate. Eliza found a spot on the edge of the row and knelt down, but instead of praying, her eyes wandered. Something about the atmosphere here felt wrong—too quiet, too still. She glanced at Sister Clara, who was now kneeling next to her. The nun’s eyes remained closed, her hands clasped in prayer, but her lips moved, whispering something Eliza couldn’t hear.

Suddenly, Sister Clara's eyes flicked open, and for a brief moment, she locked eyes with Eliza.

"Do you hear it?" she whispered.

Eliza stiffened, unsure what she meant. "Hear what?"

"The hum," Sister Clara said, her voice barely audible. "It’s always here, in the walls. We must listen."

Eliza didn’t answer. The hum. Was she imagining it? The quiet was so thick, she almost thought she could hear something—a faint, vibrating pulse that seemed to come from the very stones around her.

"What is it?" Eliza whispered back, leaning closer. But Sister Clara said nothing. She just turned her head forward again, her lips still moving in prayer. Eliza couldn’t focus on the service. Her mind kept drifting back to the hum, to the strange conversation with the nun last night. There was something about the convent—something ancient, and dark—that Eliza couldn’t understand.

When the service ended, the nuns slowly rose and filed out of the chapel in complete silence. Eliza felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She needed to speak to someone—someone who could explain what was happening here.

After breakfast, she found herself wandering through the convent, aimlessly searching for an answer. She passed the long, silent corridors, each step echoing in the empty hallways. The walls seemed to close in around her, suffocating in their stillness.

As she turned the corner, she saw a figure ahead—Sister Clara. She was standing in front of a large, ornate door, one Eliza had never noticed before. It was old, covered in strange symbols, and the wood seemed to be rotting. But what caught Eliza’s attention were the deep, black marks that ran across the surface, as though something had clawed at it from the inside.

“Why is this door sealed?” Eliza asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Sister Clara turned slowly, her eyes unreadable behind her veil. "Because it must remain closed," she said, her voice cold. "Some things are better kept hidden."

"Hidden from who?" Eliza pressed. "What’s behind it?"

The nun’s eyes softened for just a moment, then hardened again. "You don’t need to know."

Eliza’s frustration grew. "But I do. I need to understand what’s going on here! The whispers, the silence, the strange things in the chapel… everything is wrong."

For a brief moment, Eliza saw something flicker in Sister Clara’s eyes—a trace of something darker, something ancient. Then, the nun’s voice returned to its usual calm, almost eerie tone.

"You must learn patience, Sister Eliza," she said. "All things will be revealed in time."

"But what if—"

The nun held up a hand, silencing Eliza. "Do not ask questions that are not meant to be answered. The silence is a gift. Do not disturb it."

Sister Clara turned and walked away, leaving Eliza standing in front of the door. The marks on the wood seemed to burn into her mind, their unnatural blackness sending a chill through her body. What was behind that door? And why had it been sealed?

Eliza stood frozen for a moment, then made up her mind. She had to find out. She wasn’t going to let fear or silence stop her from uncovering the truth.

That night, after evening prayers, Eliza returned to the hallway where the strange door stood. The convent had settled into its usual eerie quiet, the nuns moving about their tasks with chilling precision. She waited until the last light in the convent had dimmed and the corridors were completely still.

She approached the door again, her heart pounding. The black marks stared back at her, drawing her in. She knew she couldn’t just leave it—there was something in there, something tied to all the strange happenings.

Eliza placed her hand on the cold wood, feeling the faint pulse of energy beneath the surface. With a deep breath, she pushed against the door.

It creaked loudly in the silence, the sound grating on her nerves. She winced, but the door didn’t open all the way. It had been locked—of course. But Eliza wasn’t about to give up so easily.

She turned around, looking down the hall. No one was in sight. Taking a step back, she placed both hands on the door and pushed harder. Slowly, the door inched open, revealing only darkness on the other side.

Suddenly, a voice echoed down the hall.

"Eliza."

It was Sister Clara’s voice, sharp and commanding. Eliza’s heart jumped into her throat as she quickly stepped back, the door snapping shut with a loud bang.

Sister Clara appeared at the end of the hall, her figure silhouetted by the dim light. Her eyes were fixed on Eliza, her face cold and unyielding.

"You were warned," she said softly, almost sadly. "This is not a place for curiosity."

Eliza stood frozen, her breath caught in her chest. She had been so close. So close to finding the truth.

But now, she was more certain than ever that something dark and powerful lay hidden within the convent. And she had to uncover it—no matter the cost.

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