Chapter 10
Flight from the Sanctum
The air in the convent’s forgotten wing was thick with the scent of dust and something else, something like old, dried roses and a whisper of fear. Elara clutched the rough wool of her borrowed habit, its unfamiliarity a constant reminder of her predicament. Sister Agnes, her face a pale moon behind its mask, moved with a quiet grace that belied the urgency in her steps. They were deep in the heart of the convent, a place Elara had only glimpsed in fleeting, shadowed moments since her arrival.
“This way, child,” Sister Agnes’s voice was a low murmur, barely disturbing the stillness. “The old library. It holds more than just books.”
Elara followed, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against her ribs. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind rattling the ancient windowpanes, seemed to amplify the fear that had been her constant companion. The Sisters of Perpetual Sorrow, with their stark black robes and eerily blank white masks, were a constant source of unease. But Sister Agnes… Sister Agnes was different. There was a kindness in her eyes, a flicker of something human that Elara clung to like a lifeline.
Keep reading "Flight from the Sanctum"
Open the same story in AIBookCraft. Later chapters may require an active subscription.
Free on iOS & Android · No signup to read