CHAPTER 11
973 Words
The scream had barely faded when Rebecca felt Mercy tighten her presence around her. It was a cold, urgent pressure, like a hand gripping her soul.
“Mercy…” she whispered, stepping toward the hallway. Her lantern swayed, casting tall, trembling shadows along the stone walls.
“Do not hesitate,” Mercy hissed. “Someone needs you. And the hour of reckoning is near.”
Rebecca swallowed hard, her chest tight. “But who…? Where?”
“Listen,” the spirit murmured. “Fear and desperation cling together. You will hear them.”
Another scream tore through the convent, this one closer, sharper, a raw cry of terror. Rebecca’s knees nearly buckled.
“I hear it!” she cried. “Someone’s here… or something!”
“Both,” Mercy said simply. “Do not fear the shadows. Fear only the ones that move unseen.”
The corridor stretched endlessly before her, shadows stretching unnaturally, almost alive. She stepped forward, the lantern light bouncing off the cold, damp stones. Every step she took seemed to echo, louder and louder, as though the building itself was aware.
“Hello?” she called, voice trembling. “Is someone there?”
A figure appeared at the far end — blurred in the dim light. It was moving, dragging something, or perhaps itself. Rebecca froze.
“Do not approach recklessly,” Mercy warned. “Feel first. Watch.”
Rebecca’s fingers tightened around the lantern. “I… I feel it. Whoever it is, they’re hurt. Or worse.”
The figure stopped. A faint moan escaped. Rebecca swallowed, taking a cautious step closer.
“Please,” she said softly. “Can you hear me?”
“Ask carefully,” Mercy whispered. “The veil between life and death is thin here. Speak wrong, and you may summon more than intended.”
Rebecca’s voice shook. “Are you… alive? Or… are you—”
A sudden surge of cold air slammed into her. The lantern flickered violently.
Shadows leapt from the walls, twisting, crawling like snakes.
“Now!” Mercy hissed.
Rebecca called out again, louder: “Please! I’m here to help! Show me—”
The figure stumbled forward into the lantern light. Rebecca gasped.
It was Sister Agnes. She had fallen to the floor, shaking, eyes wide with terror. Blood stained her sleeve, though it looked old and dried, not fresh.
“Agnes!” Rebecca rushed forward. “What happened?”
Agnes’s voice was weak, almost incoherent. “He… he’s—he’s coming… I can’t—”
“Who is coming?” Rebecca demanded.
Agnes’s head lolled slightly. “Michael… he… he’s not alone… the shadows… they move… they talk… they—”
Rebecca felt a sudden chill crawl up her spine. “Mercy…” she whispered.
“Yes,” the spirit answered. “You must speak now. Calm her. Guide her. She is the key to the fear you will wield.”
Rebecca knelt beside Agnes. “Agnes, listen to me. You are safe with me. Breathe. Look at me.”
Agnes’s breathing hitched. “It… it was whispering… telling him things… making him… it’s everywhere!”
“The shadows,” Mercy whispered. “Do not fear them. Fear only the man who walks among them.”
Rebecca nodded. “Yes. You heard me. Fear him, not the spirits.”
Agnes’s eyes darted to the corridor. “But he’s… he’s watching… waiting…”
Rebecca’s hand pressed gently against hers. “Let me help. I’ll face him. You stay calm.”
Another scream echoed, this time reverberating through the hall like a physical blow. It was closer.
Rebecca rose, holding the lantern higher. “Mercy… I’m ready. I’ll face him.”
“Then walk forward,” Mercy instructed.
“Step into the darkness. Let him see the truth reflected in your courage. And remember, you are not alone.”
Rebecca took a step. Then another. The shadows seemed to recoil, bending away from her path as if recognizing Mercy’s presence within her.
Suddenly, Michael appeared at the end of the corridor, his robes fluttering as though moved by a wind that didn’t exist. His eyes were wide, almost pleading. “Rebecca… stop this!” he shouted.
“I can’t,” she said steadily. “Someone is in danger. And Mercy will not allow me to turn back.”
Michael’s lips twisted. “Mercy? You are insane! This is… witchcraft!”
“No,” Mercy’s voice hissed through her. “It is justice. And it is long overdue.”
Rebecca’s lantern illuminated his face. He was sweating, his hands trembling. “You… you cannot control this!” he spat.
“I am not controlling it,” she said. “I am listening. And now… you will answer.”
Michael’s gaze flicked to Agnes on the floor, terror in his eyes. “I… I didn’t… I didn’t do—”
“Enough,” Mercy whispered. “Speak fully. Speak the truth. And know that silence has left you.”
Michael’s knees buckled slightly. “I… I… tried to… to keep peace… I—”
Rebecca stepped closer, voice steady and sharp. “Peace? You call hiding the truth peace?”
He recoiled, shadows bending tightly around him. “I… I didn’t know…”
Rebecca shook her head. “You knew. And now… you must answer. Begin with her name.”
Agnes whispered weakly: “Mercy…”
Rebecca’s heart clenched. “Yes,” Mercy whispered softly. “Remember me. Speak truth.”
Michael’s face turned pale. “Mercy… I—”
Rebecca held up a finger, silence stretching like a knife. “Finish it. Every lie. Every secret. Every shadow you have kept.”
The corridor was still except for his trembling voice. And somewhere, in the distance, the faint whisper of Mercy’s laughter promised that the reckoning had only just begun.
- Writer
