You woke up screaming.
Looking around you didn’t immediately recognise where you were, throwing your sheets of and trying to get out of bed. One of the sisters rushed over to you to calm you down.
“where… where’s Claire? Is she okay? Where am I?” you asked frantically.
The sister continued to calm you down, informing you that you were in the infirmary and Claire was asleep in the dorms.
You were found passed out in one of the old chapels, no one could explain how you got there.
The sun had yet to rise, the sister encouraging you to go back to sleep for a few more hours.
////
You woke up again, this time in the afternoon.
Due to your wandering making you impossible to find, you were to be kept under watch by a sister, in case something happened.
You currently sat in the library; you had gravitated towards this seat as soon as you entered the room. The book on the table in front of you had something to do with the history of the convent. You began to flip through the pages, hoping something would stand out to you.
“The book isn’t written in English, do you want me to explain the history to you,” the sister watching you asked.
You nodded, wanting the human contact.
“Most of the convent was rebuilt because of a great fire.”
“A fire? What happened? Did everyone survive?” you leaned into the conversation.
“No one knows how it started. Some say a stray alter candle, some say it was intentional.”
You wondered who would want to set a convent on fire.
“As for the survivors,” she began to explain, “it was one of the miracles of St. Y/N. She had a dream that there was to be a fire, so she managed to get the sisters out before they were incinerated.”
“What happened to the saint?” you asked.
“She didn’t make it. She was found below the tree in the courtyard, the one with poisonous fruit. The story goes that she fought the devil and won, but he took her life in his anger. They say her soul rests within the tree itself and that’s why on a quiet day, you may hear a heartbeat.”
You weren’t sure if you believed in God, but you were sure your belief in the devil got stronger every day.
The sister continued to tell you the story, “Even the design of the convent is thanks to St. Y/N. She spent hours meticulously drawing up plans inspired by the divine. She made sure one of the sisters at the time left the burning convent with the plans. It is one of her other official miracles actually. Not a bad thing has happened in here since.”
“The only fatality made such an impact,” you whispered.
“Only? No there was one other death.”
Your brows knitted in confusion; this was a new element to the story.
“The Monseigneur at the time was also said to have perished in the fire. Apparently, he was deep in prayer. Most of his remains were incinerated however, not much of him was found.”
“Michael,” you whispered.
The sister gave you a confused look, “Yes, that was his name, how do you know.”
You scrambled around for the answer, “Oh I think I heard someone speak about it.” You were not going to tell her that you saw the man in your dreams.
////
Your muscles had gone stiff from all that sitting down. The copious amounts of flies in the room were also bothering you. You had asked if you could walk around the courtyard and promised to return.
You cracked your joints while heading out, trying to get rid of the stiffness.
You closed your eyes as the cool, early evening air hit you. The sun would set soon, and you wanted to enjoy the outside while you could. This trip had to be the worst thing you had ever done, and you were going to give your parents an earful when you returned.
You admired the flowers and their bright colours, swatting away the flies to get a good sniff of their sweetness.
You stood and made your way to the centre of the courtyard, trying to listen for that heartbeat again. As you got closer to the tree, you thought you saw someone lying beneath it.
Now was not the time to take a nap.
You got closer and recognised the face, it was Claire.
“Why are you taking a nap here?” you spoke to her, facing away slightly to avoid the suns glare.
She didn’t reply.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.”
You kicked her slightly to wake her up.
Instead, she fell limp to her side, an apple from the tree rolling away. It had been bitten.
You quickly got down to help her up. You were met with a wide, glassy gaze. Her eyes were lifeless, their vibrant colour had faded.
Flies had begun to eat at her face, starting at the remnants of the juice left by the fruit when she took a bite.
It took you a while to comprehend the situation. Your mind flashed back to the first day here, the warning given to not eat the poisonous fruit.
“WAKE UP Claire! Please … please wake up,” your mind processing what you didn’t want to accept.
You screamed for help. Your voice cracking from the consistent screaming.
the next few minutes went by in a blur.
A sister checked her pulse and shook her head. You became hysterical, screaming something you could not remember, having to be pulled away by staff members.
You had gone numb. You felt like you were underwater. Everything was muffled and nothing made sense.
////
You had no idea how much time had passed when you were all called to stand outside for an announcement.
“It is with the greatest sorrow, that I have to announce the passing of a dear friend and student.”
The crowd gasped and began to murmur.
“she was a wonderful student, a pillar of our community and the loss will leave a hole in our hearts.”
Sister Y/N looked around as she snapped out of her daze, no longer paying attention to the mother superiors words echoing off the stone walls.
Stone walls?
She looked around confused. She could have sworn that they were all standing outside a minuet ago. This upset her even further. Was she really losing touch with reality now?
She tried not to dwell on it too much, she had already been hysterical in front of these sisters more than once. Her puffy eyes and dry lips showed for it. She would keep her mourning private now.
////
In her private grief, Sister Y/N spent more time in the run-down chapel, alone. The repairs would have to wait a while.
Her days were spent in prayer or just staring at the wall, the numbness did not allow for anything else.
Her daily routine was interrupted by the door creaking open. She knew who it was, the footsteps and expensive scent gave him away. She hadn’t seen him since the funeral.
he walked into her line of vision, looking her up and down.
“You poor thing,” he whispered “look at the state of yourself. One may think you were the corpse,” he chuckled.
You didn’t find it funny.
“Look at me Y/N” he gently held her face with an unwanted tenderness.
Sister Y/n tried to fight the warmth from his touch.
“I can take this all away. You know I can.” His thumbs gently stroked her cheekbones. “I can save you from drowning in this grief, offer you salvation of the highest kind.”
He sat down next to her, face still in his hands. “All you have to do is come to me. Seek me out. Let me be the light in your darkness and I shall offer you eternal bliss.” His voice was low, barely echoing through the crumbling structure.
The offer was enticing, what did she need all these negative emotions for anyway? Hadn’t she suffered enough? Maybe this was god’s way of offering her salvation.
Before she could consider his offer any further, the softness of his hands began to feel sticky. The image of those very hands stuffing a body under the bed flashed through her mind. It was like a cat leaving a macabre gift for its owner.
She quickly pulled his hands off her, not giving him any time to react as she ran from the room. She headed straight for her room, the one she hadn’t entered in days. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.
The room was now almost empty, only her bed and belongings remaining. All traces of her friend had, been erased. She sat on her bed staring at the empty void left behind. Her nose stung with the tears she tried to hold in.
When she was younger, she would have turned to her mother for comfort. That was no longer possible. All she had left of her now was old letters and annotated grimoires detailing herbal practices.
She opened her drawer and pulled a box out. She ran her finger over every groove in the wood, each intricate carving meant something. It was all protection spells, keeping her secret safe and only allowing her to open the box.
Seeing her mother’s handwriting calmed her down, flipping through the pages and reliving some of the happier memories from her childhood.
She would do anything to return to the cottage in the woods, where the summer breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and the sounds of the steam would lull her to sleep.
Her mother’s humour carried on throughout her writing, leaving little notes as if she knew she wouldn’t be there when Y/N would need her.
A she flicked through the book, one of her notes stood out to her:
‘Dear child, I must tell you never to trust beautiful men. Especially those with hair of spun gold and eyes of sapphire. They are almost never human. If you’re lucky he may be one of the fair folk. However, if God has forsaken you, he may well just be the devil’
The devil?
Sister Y/N lay down and stared at the ceiling. The more she thought about it, the more the cogs turned.
Maybe she was looking too much into it, trying to find something to blame for the terrible few months she was having.
But then again, only the devil would parade around like a messiah, offering an illusion to those unhappy with the cards they were dealt in life.
She got out of bed to grab her other books. Maybe this we her final test from God, to conquer the devil that had haunted these holy halls.
