The cathedral was quiet today, unusually quiet without Mother around. She had left for the neighboring village to assist with a feast for the parishioners, leaving me with my chores. I knelt on the cold stone floor, scrubbing it with a rag and a basin of soapy water, my knuckles whitening as I worked. The air smelled faintly of lemon soap, mixed with incense lingering from the morning prayers.
"Almost done…" I whispered to myself, the echo bouncing off the stone walls. The quiet was comforting, like a lullaby I could control. But it didn't last.
From the corner of my eye, I saw movement—shadows gathering near the entrance. Eight children, older than me, stood there, whispering. Their voices were like venom dripping onto the air.
"Look at her… little orphan, abandoned by her parents."
"Yeah, her mother isn't even real. She's just… pretending."
"She probably cries at night when no one's watching," another sneered.
I froze, the rag in my hand trembling. My heart thumped like a drum in my chest. Why are they saying this? I thought, my small hands clutching the rag tighter. I've done nothing to them.
Before I could react, their leader—a boy with a cruel smile and sharp eyes—lunged forward. With a sudden swoosh, he grabbed the basin of dirty water I had used for scrubbing and poured it all over me. The cold water soaked through my clothes in an instant. I gasped, frozen in shock as the water dripped down my face and into my eyes.
"Why… why are you doing this to me?" I whispered, my voice shaking.
The boy shoved me roughly by my shoulder, pushing me toward the floor. My knees and palms hit the wet stone with a thud. My hair clung to my face, my small body trembling as the other children laughed.
"Pathetic little thing," he spat, shoving my head into the dirty puddle on the floor. "You're nothing here. Just another useless orphan."
I couldn't move, couldn't defend myself. Every breath was a struggle, my mind spinning with confusion and fear. Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this?
Then, suddenly, a voice cut through the chaos.
"Enough!"
A nun—new to the cathedral, I realized—stepped into the hall. Her presence was commanding, yet her tone held warmth. She grabbed my arm gently and helped me to my feet, brushing the mud from my dress.
"Are you all blind?" she snapped at the children. "What do you think you're doing?"
The group of eight children froze. Their leader scowled, but they retreated slightly, muttering under their breath. Other priests and nuns gathered quickly, their faces a mixture of shock and anger. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hall—tap, tap, tap—as they closed in around us.
Brother Thomas appeared beside the new nun, his expression grave. "Adra… you're safe now," he whispered, his hand resting on my shoulder.
The High Priest's deep voice boomed from the living room. "All of you—come to the living room. Now."
One by one, the children were called into the High Priest's office. I watched as tears rolled down some of their cheeks, their pride broken under his piercing gaze. Yet the leader—oh, the leader—stood tall, full of defiance, like a tiny king refusing to kneel.
Finally, my name was called. My legs felt like lead as I stepped into the office. The room smelled of polished wood and old parchment. The High Priest sat behind a massive desk, his eyes sharp, reading me as if I were an open book.
"Adra," he said, his voice calm but heavy. "Tell me… what punishment do you suggest for them, for what they've done to you?"
I swallowed hard. The memory of the basin, the mud, their cruel laughter, all weighed on me. My voice trembled. "I… I don't want to… I'm scared," I whispered, my small hands twisting together.
He leaned forward slightly, eyes boring into mine. "Are you sure? No one is above God. He knows everything."
I nodded slightly, swallowing the lump in my throat. I murmured, barely audible, "Isolation…"
A small smirk played across the High Priest's lips. "Isolation. Very well. You may now go."
I stepped out slowly, heart hammering, feeling the weight of the word I had chosen. The group of bullies stood just outside the office, their eyes like daggers, full of hatred and unspoken threats. I met their gaze for a moment, and I could almost feel them wishing me harm.
Suddenly, the secretary of the High Priest's office came running out, shouting: "All the children, inside the office! Except you, Adra!"
The bullies obeyed, their glaring eyes never leaving me as they marched past. I could feel their resentment, their pride wounded, but simmering still. My stomach churned as the sound of the office doors closing behind them echoed through the hallway—clack, clack, clack.
The new nun took my hand gently, guiding me away from the hallway. "Come, little one. Let's get you cleaned and settled. You must not let them weigh on your mind."
Once in my room, she helped me out of my wet clothes and dried me carefully. Her hands were warm and steady, her presence comforting in a way I hadn't felt in a long time.
"Do you… want me to sing for you?" she asked softly, her eyes meeting mine.
I nodded slowly, exhausted and drained, the events of the day pressing down like a stone on my chest.
Her voice was soft, almost hypnotic. She began to hum a lullaby, gentle and lilting, each note wrapping around me like a blanket. My eyelids grew heavy, the world blurring at the edges. I felt safe for the first time that day, and then…
The darkness came.
I couldn't fight it. Sleep pulled me under, and I let go.
The new nun quietly stepped away from the bed, her smirk faint but unreadable. She looked at the closed door, a shadow flickering across her pale face.
"Sleep well, little shadow," she whispered and smirked.
Outside, the cathedral seemed still, but I knew better. Shadows moved in the corners, and something—someone—was waiting.
To be continued…