SINS OF SIERRA

The First Communion

Morning came quietly to St. Annex.

Too quietly.

Anne woke before the bell and remained beneath the blanket, staring at the ceiling.

She had barely slept.

Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the voice from the corridor.

Tomorrow, she takes the body.

She had tried to convince herself it had been a dream.

A trick of exhaustion.

Fear making sounds out of silence.

But there had been one thing she could not explain.

The voice had sounded exactly like Ophelia.

And Ophelia had been standing beside her.

Anne turned her head.

Ophelia was still asleep in the bed across the room.

Her face was peaceful.

Almost too peaceful.

Anne sat up.

For a moment, she simply watched her.

Then Ophelia’s eyes opened.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Anne jumped.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

Anne smiled faintly.

“I thought you were awake.”

Ophelia pushed herself upright.

“What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

She groaned.

“First Communion.”

The words settled between them.

Today was the day.

After weeks of evaluation, preparation, prayer and examination, the six new sisters would receive Communion together for the first time as members of St. Annex.

Anne had been looking forward to it.

Now she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to enter the chapel at all.

She remembered the old chapel.

The black book.

The woman’s voice.

The warning.

And most of all, the sentence that had come afterward.

Tomorrow, she takes the body.

Anne looked at Ophelia again.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Ophelia frowned.

“Yes. Why?”

“Nothing.”

“Anne.”

“I’m serious. Nothing.”

Ophelia studied her face.

“You’ve been acting strange since last night.”

“So have you.”

“How?”

Anne almost told her.

Instead, she looked away.

“I just didn’t sleep well.”

Ophelia accepted the answer, though Anne could tell she didn’t believe it.

Then the morning bell rang.

The two women rose.

Neither noticed the faint white mark beneath Ophelia’s left ear.

By seven o’clock, the convent was awake.

Sisters moved through the corridors preparing for Mass.

Candles were being lit.

Flowers were arranged around the altar.

The smell of incense drifted through the building.

The six new sisters dressed in silence.

Anne fastened her veil.

Isolde checked her collar.

Nora carefully straightened the cross around her neck.

Mae stared at herself in the mirror.

Wren stood near the window.

Ophelia was the last to finish.

She looked different.

Anne couldn’t explain why.

Maybe it was the way she held herself.

Maybe it was the strange calm in her eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Nora said.

Ophelia smiled.

“Thank you.”

Mae laughed softly.

“Today we’re officially sisters.”

“That sounds frightening when you say it like that,” Isolde teased.

They laughed.

For a few seconds, they were simply six young women beginning something new.

No ghost.

No curse.

No old records.

No Sierra.

Just six friends standing together before a mirror.

Then Wren noticed something.

“Ophelia.”

“What?”

“Your neck.”

Ophelia touched it.

“What about it?”

“There.”

Wren pointed.

A faint red mark curved beneath her ear.

Ophelia looked in the mirror.

“I must have scratched myself.”

Anne stepped closer.

“It looks like fingerprints.”

Everyone went quiet.

Ophelia rubbed the mark.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Mother Superior Miriam entered.

“Are you ready?”

They turned.

Miriam’s gaze immediately went to Ophelia’s neck.

Her expression tightened.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Ophelia said.

Miriam approached.

She examined the mark without touching it.

Then she looked at Anne.

“What happened?”

Anne hesitated.

“She woke up with it.”

Miriam’s face became unreadable.

“Cover it.”

Ophelia pulled her collar higher.

Miriam stepped back.

“Today is sacred. Whatever happened last night stays outside the chapel.”

Anne wanted to ask what she meant.

But Miriam had already turned away.

“Come.”

The main chapel was full.

Priests stood near the altar.

Father Elias wore white and gold vestments.

Several older sisters sat in the front rows.

Villagers had also gathered.

The six young women walked into the chapel together.

Anne felt hundreds of eyes following them.

She looked toward the altar.

Everything appeared normal.

Beautiful, even.

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows.

Candles flickered.

Incense rose toward the ceiling.

A large crucifix hung above the altar.

Nothing seemed wrong.

Yet Anne couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching from somewhere beyond the walls.

They took their places.

Ophelia stood beside her.

Father Elias began the service.

The prayers were familiar.

The responses were familiar.

But when they reached the first reading, Anne heard something beneath the priest’s voice.

A whisper.

So faint she almost missed it.

Anne.

She stiffened.

She didn’t turn.

The priest continued.

Another whisper.

Anne.

She looked at Ophelia.

Ophelia was staring straight ahead.

“Did you hear that?” Anne whispered.

Ophelia shook her head.

Then her eyes closed.

Anne frowned.

“Ophelia?”

Ophelia opened them.

“I’m fine.”

Her voice sounded normal.

But something about her expression frightened Anne.

It was empty.

Not sad.

Not afraid.

Empty.

The Mass continued.

Father Elias spoke about faith.

About sacrifice.

About receiving Christ with a clean heart.

Anne listened.

The words should have comforted her.

Instead, she kept thinking about Sierra.

A woman whose own faith had apparently not saved her from judgment.

A woman whose name had been turned into a warning.

A woman whose story everyone seemed terrified to remember.

Father Elias lifted the chalice.

The chapel became silent.

Then came the moment.

“Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”

The congregation responded.

Anne lowered her head.

The six sisters moved forward.

One after another.

Isolde.

Nora.

Mae.

Wren.

Anne.

Then Ophelia.

Anne watched her friend approach the priest.

Father Elias held the Communion wafer between his fingers.

“The Body of Christ.”

Ophelia stared at it.

For one strange second, she didn’t move.

Father Elias repeated himself.

“The Body of Christ.”

Ophelia’s lips parted.

“Amen.”

She received Communion.

And the candles went out.

Every single one.

The chapel fell into darkness.

Someone screamed.

A child began crying.

Father Elias froze.

Then the lights returned.

One by one.

Anne turned toward Ophelia.

She was standing perfectly still.

Her head was bowed.

“Ophelia?”

No response.

Anne touched her arm.

Ophelia looked up.

Her eyes were completely black.

Anne stepped back.

“Ophelia?”

The girl’s face remained expressionless.

Then she smiled.

Not the smile Anne knew.

Not Ophelia’s smile.

Something colder.

Something older.

Her lips moved.

But the voice that came out did not belong to her.

“I remember.”

Anne’s blood ran cold.

“What?”

Ophelia’s head tilted.

“I remember all of you.”

She looked toward the congregation.

Then toward the altar.

Then slowly toward the old chapel doors at the far end of the church.

Father Elias stared at her.

“Ophelia?”

She smiled again.

This time, blood began running from her nose.

A drop landed on the white collar of her habit.

Then another.

“Mother Superior,” Father Elias said quietly.

Miriam was already moving.

“Take her outside.”

Anne and Isolde reached for Ophelia.

The moment Anne touched her wrist, Ophelia screamed.

It was not a human scream.

It shook the chapel.

The stained-glass windows rattled.

Several candles shattered.

Everyone fell silent.

Ophelia’s body suddenly jerked backward.

Her head snapped toward Anne.

And she whispered:

“You should not have come home.”

Anne froze.

“What did you say?”

Ophelia’s face changed.

For a second, she looked terrified.

“Anne…”

It was her real voice.

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Help me.”

Anne rushed toward her.

But before she could reach her, Ophelia collapsed.

The chapel erupted into chaos.

Sisters surrounded her.

Someone shouted for the priest.

Someone else ran for water.

Father Elias knelt beside Ophelia.

“Ophelia, can you hear me?”

Her eyes were closed.

Her body trembled.

Miriam pushed through the crowd.

“Everyone out.”

Nobody moved.

“Out!”

The authority in her voice finally broke the paralysis.

The villagers began leaving.

The sisters followed.

Anne refused to move.

“Anne,” Miriam ordered.

“She’s my friend.”

“And she needs silence.”

“She needs help.”

“I know.”

Miriam looked at Father Elias.

“Take her to the infirmary.”

Father Elias nodded.

He and another priest lifted Ophelia.

As they carried her away, her hand suddenly dropped toward the floor.

Her fingers scraped against the tiles.

Anne saw what she was writing.

A single letter.

S.

Then her body went completely still.

Ophelia woke three hours later.

She remembered nothing.

That frightened Anne more than anything else.

She sat in the infirmary bed while Anne sat beside her.

“What happened?” Ophelia asked.

“You fainted.”

“During Communion?”

Anne nodded.

Ophelia touched her forehead.

“I don’t remember.”

“You screamed.”

Ophelia looked frightened.

“What did I say?”

Anne didn’t answer immediately.

“Ophelia…”

“What did I say?”

Anne looked toward the door.

Miriam had instructed everyone not to discuss the incident.

But Anne couldn’t forget the black eyes.

Or the voice.

Or the words.

I remember all of you.

“You said something about coming home.”

Ophelia frowned.

“Why would I say that?”

“I don’t know.”

A silence settled between them.

Then Ophelia touched her chest.

“Anne.”

“What?”

“I feel like someone is standing behind me.”

Anne looked behind her.

Nobody.

“There’s no one there.”

Ophelia’s breathing became uneven.

“No.”

She pointed toward the mirror.

“Not there.”

Anne looked at the mirror.

Ophelia’s reflection was sitting on the bed.

But there was something wrong with it.

Anne stared.

The reflection was smiling.

Ophelia wasn’t.

Anne turned sharply toward her friend.

The smile in the mirror disappeared.

Ophelia hadn’t noticed.

“Anne?”

“Nothing.”

She stood.

“I’ll get some water.”

As Anne reached the door, she heard Ophelia whisper.

“Don’t leave me alone.”

Anne turned back.

“I won’t.”

For the first time since entering St. Annex, Ophelia looked genuinely afraid.

That evening, the six sisters gathered quietly in their room.

Nobody joked.

Nobody laughed.

Nobody spoke about Communion.

Until Wren finally broke the silence.

“Something happened to her.”

Mae looked at her.

“We know.”

“No.”

Wren shook her head.

“I mean something happened inside her.”

Isolde folded her arms.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t know that.”

“We all saw her eyes.”

Nora looked down.

“I saw them.”

Mae whispered, “They were black.”

Anne remained silent.

Wren looked at her.

“You heard it too, didn’t you?”

Anne nodded.

“The voice.”

Ophelia wasn’t there.

Miriam had ordered her to remain in the infirmary overnight.

Wren leaned forward.

“What did it say?”

Anne looked toward the door.

Then she told them.

The room went silent.

“She said she remembered all of us.”

Nora’s eyes filled with tears.

“All of us?”

Anne nodded.

Then Wren whispered:

“Maybe she wasn’t talking about us.”

“What do you mean?”

Wren looked toward the eastern corridor.

“Maybe she was talking about the people who came before us.”

A cold silence settled over them.

Then the chapel bell rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Mae stood.

“No.”

The fourth bell never came.

Instead, a woman’s voice drifted through the corridor.

Soft.

Almost affectionate.

“Ophelia.”

Everyone froze.

The voice came again.

“Come back.”

Anne stood slowly.

“Nobody moves.”

The door handle began turning.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

Wren grabbed Nora’s hand.

Mae stepped backward.

Isolde reached for the cross around her neck.

The handle stopped.

Silence.

Then came a knock.

One.

Two.

Three.

Anne whispered a prayer.

The door opened.

No one stood outside.

Only darkness.

And on the floor, directly beneath the doorway, lay a Communion wafer.

Wet with blood.

Anne stared at it.

Nobody breathed.

Then, from somewhere deep inside the convent, Ophelia began singing.

A lullaby.

The same lullaby the village had sung for generations.

Except this time, there was a missing verse.

And Ophelia was singing it perfectly.

“Sierra, Sierra, sinner of the night…”

Anne’s eyes widened.

Wren whispered:

“That’s impossible.”

The singing continued.

Then Ophelia’s voice changed.

And a second voice joined hers.

Older.

Female.

Broken.

“But they never told you why she died.”

The sisters stared at one another.

And somewhere upstairs, Ophelia laughed.

Not like herself.

The first Communion had ended.

But something had entered St. Annex with her.

And this time—

it had found a body.