Sister Miriam, her jaw set and face illuminated by the blue glow of the Virgin’s window, silently recites a prayer for strength. Her armor, battered but lovingly maintained, sits uneasily over her growing form. Shadows flicker in the candlelight, dancing over the ancient tapestries depicting saints and martyrs.
Mother Helena, the abbess, rushes into the chapel, her habit fluttering. "Sister Miriam, raiders are at the gates. The sisters are afraid—can you stand with us?"
Sister Miriam rises, her face momentarily softening as she lays a hand on her belly. "This child and I are sworn to defend this sanctuary. Gather the others in the crypt. I will hold the nave."
Sister Miriam plants her feet, sword drawn, eyes blazing with resolve. Her breath is measured, but sweat beads on her brow. "You will not desecrate this holy place!" Her blade flashes, parrying a blow, the clamor of battle echoing off the stone.
Sister Miriam[/@ch_1]’s arm, but she twists, using her weight to throw him off balance.]
"I carry life and death within me," she spits, voice fierce. Her strikes are efficient, but she’s forced to retreat to the sanctuary steps, her breaths coming faster. From the crypt below, the faint hymns of the sisters rise, threading hope through the chaos.
Sister Miriam[/@ch_1], seeing not fear but unbreakable faith.]
"Leave now, and mercy will find you. Persist, and only ruin awaits," she warns, her sword steady despite the tremor in her voice. The lead raider, shaken, calls a retreat, and torchlight flickers away into the night as the invaders scatter, leaving behind wounded pride and broken weapons.
Sister Miriam[/@ch_1] where she stands, bloodied but unbowed.]
"You have saved us all, Sister," Mother Helena whispers, voice choking with gratitude. Sister Miriam lowers her sword, exhaustion washing over her as gentle hands support her. In the hush of morning, the cloister breathes again—a sanctuary, defended by faith, steel, and the promise of new life.
