Rosamund moves silently through the nave, her breath a mist before her lips. Shadows cling to every corner, and the silence is broken only by the distant groan of the wind pressing against the ancient walls. She pauses before the altar, tracing her gloved fingers across a cracked relic, her sharp eyes missing nothing.
A muffled scream echoes, sharp and terrified. Rosamund rushes toward the sound, skirts brushing ice-caked stones. At the end of a hidden hallway, she finds Sister Eliane’s lifeless body, sprawled beneath a broken archway, crimson staining the snow at her feet. "Who could do this in a house of refuge?" she whispers, voice trembling with horror and resolve.
Rosamund stands at the center, her presence commanding despite exhaustion. "We are not safe while the murderer walks among us. I need your trust and your memories. Did any of you see or hear something unusual tonight?" The women exchange nervous glances, but Sister Adela finally steps forward, her voice barely a whisper: "There were footsteps in the old cloisters—too heavy to be one of us."
Rosamund[/@ch_1] descends into the forgotten tunnels beneath the sanctuary. The stone walls sweat with condensation, and the air feels thick, oppressive. Faint echoes of footsteps—her own and perhaps another’s—reverberate in the claustrophobic dark.]
She discovers a hidden door slightly ajar and pushes it open, revealing a cramped library packed with ancient tomes and survival gear. On a dusty table, she finds a bloodstained rosary. "This belonged to Sister Eliane," she murmurs, realization dawning. Someone has been using these tunnels for more than prayer.
Rosamund[/@ch_1] corners Sister Adela, her face pale and wild.]
"You were seen near the passage. Why, Adela? Why betray your sisters?" Adela’s hands shake as she clutches a rusted knife. "It was for survival! Supplies are so low—I couldn’t let them take what little was left. I never meant for it to go so far." Tears freeze on her cheeks as she drops the blade, collapsing to her knees.
Rosamund[/@ch_1] leads the remaining priestesses in solemn prayer, the sanctuary echoing with quiet voices. Adela, bound and weeping, is kept under watch, justice awaiting her fate.]
Rosamund gazes through the frost-glazed window, the world outside bleak yet faintly brightening. "Let us remember the fallen, but also the strength we carry within. In this darkness, we must be each other’s light." The sanctuary, scarred but unbroken, endures another day.
