Chapter 5
Beneath the Veils
The air in the convent was thick and heavy, like a blanket woven from dust and old secrets. Elara traced the rough stone of her cell wall, the chill seeping through her thin shift. It had been days since she’d stumbled through the hidden archway, days since the masked nuns had scooped her up, their touch surprisingly gentle, their voices like rustling leaves. They called themselves the Sisters of Perpetual Sorrow, a name that echoed the sadness clinging to the very stones of their cloister.
Her small room offered little comfort. A narrow cot, a rough-spun blanket, and a single, barred window that looked out onto a patch of overgrown courtyard. It was a far cry from the sunlit meadows and the scent of wild herbs that usually filled her days. She missed the familiar ache in her fingers after a long day of healing, the contented sighs of those she’d helped. Here, her gift felt dormant, a quiet hum beneath the surface of her fear.
The nuns moved through the convent like shadows. Black habits, cinched at the waist, flowed around them, and their faces were always hidden behind stark white masks that seemed to swallow their expressions. They spoke in hushed tones, their words often indecipherable riddles, and their eyes, when Elara caught a glimpse of them through the mask’s eyeholes, were unnervingly intense.
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