CLASH OF THE REALMS

CHAPTER 3; TRIAL AGAINST DEVOTION

Albany Los Angeles

Agra’s insurance company

Some press speakers are at the reception of the Muti-billion dollar Alpha Agra’s company. A female newscaster is on air talking about the incident “The recent attack at the orphanage which was first acclaimed to be a monster attack has now be concluded to be a human attack since the could discover Fingerprints from unknown individuals, only two survivors which were the nun in charge are still receiving treatment from the central hospital”. She said with a painful sigh.

“However following this m******e, we are at the Agra’s company who has being the major charity Non Governmental Organisation funding the orphanage, with me here is the man of charity, Los Angeles for this year, Mr Adraigo what do you have to say about this?”

“This is indeed a very sad and not pleasing story, I loved those children dearly as though they were a part of me, but of of course I would promise thier killer one gift. A sad ending. Thank you”. Adraigo's concluded with his head bent a fist clenched as though expressing sadness and fury at the same time.

“With this said I guess we can tell more better just would be done, thank you for watching”. Rachel the newscaster said while adjusting the collar of her dress

Kira

Few days later

Convent Home, Los Angeles.

Claire sat rigid in her chair, fingers laced so tightly in her lap that her knuckles ached. She didn’t dare lift her gaze. Even without looking, she could feel the weight of three pairs of eyes fixed on her, steady and unrelenting. The morning light spilled through the tall windows, pale and cold, throwing sharp angles across the chamber.

At the center of the table, the Mother Superior sat perfectly upright, her presence carved from discipline. On either side of her, the abbesses mirrored her posture, dark habits stark against the brightness behind them. The silence dragged on, pressing against Claire’s chest until one of the abbesses finally shifted. She placed her hand over her breast, her voice polite but probing.

“Thank God you’ve recovered, Sister Claire. Though Sister Kira’s healing has taken longer, I hear she’ll be discharged today.” Her eyes narrowed, her tone firm despite the courteous words. “Now, would you explain, properly, everything that happened that night?”

Claire swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight, her voice reluctant. She squeezed her hands together until they shook. Then, with a tremor in her voice, she began. The words stumbled out unevenly, as though dragged from her. She spoke of the fear, the shadows that had filled the halls, the decisions made in an instant when there had been no time to think. Her sentences broke often, halting as the memories caught in her chest. She kept her eyes on her hands, unable to face their piercing stares.

A soft knock broke through her account. It was so faint it could almost have been mistaken for the wind rattling the shutters.

“Who is there?” asked the second abbess, the one who had sat silent until now.

“...Kira, ma,” I gave a muffled reply from the other side of the door.

The abbess gave a small nod, tilting her head toward the entrance. “Yes, dear. You may come in.”

The door creaked open, and I stepped in. My hand lingered on the knob as though it steadied me, my steps careful, each one measured. I looked pale, drawn, yet my posture was steady enough to mask most of my weakness. I raised my head. “Good afternoon, Mother Superior. Good afternoon, ma’s.”

“Good afternoon, Sister Kira,” the three women answered together, though the tone carried more formality than warmth.

The abbess who had not spoken to Claire now turned her attention toward Kira, curiosity flickering in her expression. “How is your health, dear? Are you stronger now?”

I touched my gown briefly, an anxious habit I carried. “I am well, ma. Thank you.”

The abbess leaned forward, her eyes sharper now. “Then please,tell us what happened that night. In your own words.”

I breathed deeply, drawing myself upright.

Unlike Claire, her voice was steadier. She spoke plainly, painting the night as she had lived it: the chaos, the terror, the promises she clung to even when fear threatened to break her. Each word seemed to fall heavy into the room. When she finished, silence swept in, thicker than before.

The sudden toll of the chapel bells broke it, the deep ringing rolling through the stone walls, calling the sisters to prayer. The sound filled the chamber, weighty, relentless.

I sat with my clothes slightly out of order, my hands trembling faintly. Yet my recounting had not faltered.

At last, the abbess leaned forward, her gaze lingering. Her voice came low, a whisper pulled between reproach and awe. “Sister Kira… why?”

Kira met her eyes. Her reply was simple. “Because I couldn’t just watch them die. I swore to protect them. And I chose to keep that vow.”

The abbess’s expression softened. Her hand reached across the table and closed over Kira’s, warm and hesitant. “You carried us through the darkness,” she said quietly. “Whether we admit it or not, you’ve done good, Sister Kira.”

My hand lifted instinctively to my throat, my fingers brushing the place where no mark showed but where I still felt it,his hand, his scent, his weight. An invisible bruise only I could carry.

The Mother Superior finally leaned forward, breaking the fragile quiet. Her voice was grave, heavy with the authority of her office. “Sister Kira,” she said, “though we acknowledge your sacrifice, we cannot ignore the consequences. While you were still recovering in the hospital, troubling stories began to spread. The first who saw you claimed you were half-dressed. Now the rumors have spread further , that nuns betray their vows for… pleasure.”

Her voice faltered slightly. She lowered her head, her hand pressed over her chest as though she bore the shame herself. “These whispers have already damaged the reputation of all Reverend Sisters. And so…” She slid a sealed envelope across the desk. “We are deeply sorry, but here is your letter of dismissal. Tomorrow, sign the documents and hand them in.”

The words hit like a sentence passed.

I was shocked, My hand shook as I grabbed the letter. “Why, Mother Superior? Why, ma’s?” my voice cracked with disbelief.

The Mother Superior’s face did not soften. Her voice was firm, measured. “This is for the good of us all. We thank you for your service… and may God bless you.”

She rose to her feet, the abbesses following suit and later nun Claire. Together they gathered their things in silence and filed out, their steps echoing down the corridor until the chamber was left still and empty.

I sat alone, the envelope trembling in my hands. I felt hollow, my chest tight, mybthoughts a storm of grief and disbelief. At last, I stood and walked unsteadily to the convent doors.

Outside, the morning air hit my face, sharp and cool. I walked across the stone steps to where my Tesla Model S waited, its sleek surface glinting in the sunlight. I slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door with a dull thud that seemed to echo my heart.

My hands gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled. My chest shook with sobs as tears blurred my sight, the world beyond the windshield dissolving into light and shadow. I leaned my forehead against the wheel, her cries breaking loose, raw and uncontrollable.

“These same people I tried to protect,” I whispered through clenched teeth, my voice ragged. “These same humans I defended against the wolves.” my words broke apart as my shoulders shook. “The Werewolf I hate the most has ruined me, and these same people I loved… why?”

Tears fell freely now, soaking into the leather as grief poured over her. Each sob seemed to hollow her further, until only the ache remained.

The dismissal. The betrayal. The false stories spread like wildfire. All of it pressed down on her, smothering.

Yet somewhere, beneath the storm of sorrow, something faint but alive stirred within her. A spark that refused to go out. Grief could break her. Anger could consume her. But she was not finished yet.

Not yet.