CHAPTER 7
374 Words
Reverend Michael backed away slowly.
“This is blasphemy,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Rebecca tilted her head. “Then why are you shaking?”
His jaw tightened. “I will not be accused by—”
“By the one you silenced?” Mercy whispered.
The Reverend clutched the pew. “You’re imagining this.”
Rebecca stepped closer. “Then answer me.”
He hesitated.
“Answer what?” he snapped.
Rebecca’s voice dropped. “Why was Mercy’s body never found?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“That is not your concern,” he said finally.
Mercy’s presence surged.
“You buried the truth with me.”
The Reverend shouted, “Stop it!”
The candles shattered.
Glass rained softly onto the floor.
Rebecca flinched—but did not retreat.
“You told everyone she ran away,” she said. “Why?”
The Reverend’s breathing grew uneven. “Because—because that’s what sinners do.”
Mercy laughed.
It was not loud.
It was not cruel.
It was broken.
“You called me a sinner so you could sleep at night.”
“Enough!” he roared. “Whatever spirit this is—it has no authority here!”
The crucifix on the wall trembled.
Rebecca felt Mercy steady her.
“Authority?” Rebecca repeated. “You lost that the moment you chose yourself over God.”
The Reverend fell to his knees.
“No,” he whispered. “You don’t understand. I was tempted.”
Mercy’s voice hardened.
“So was I.”
The shadows climbed the walls.
Rebecca whispered, “This is only the beginning.”
The Reverend looked up, eyes wide with terror. “What are you?”
Rebecca answered honestly.
“I’m listening.”
The chapel door creaked open on its own.
The storm outside thundered.
Mercy spoke one final sentence before retreating into silence:
“I will not rest until truth stands in light.”
The candles extinguished simultaneously.
When the lights returned, Rebecca stood alone.
The Reverend was gone.
But his fear remained—etched into the stone, into the walls, into the very soul of the convent.
And Mercy?
Mercy was no longer whispering.
She was waiting.
- Writer
