CHAPTER 5

Midnight arrives like a sin already committed.

The convent is asleep. No bells, no footsteps, only the faint creak of old wood settling and the distant hoot of an owl beyond the walls. I leave my cell barefoot, habit discarded on the narrow bed, wearing only the thin linen shift that clings to my sweat-damp skin. The rosary is looped around my wrist like a bracelet no longer a prayer tool, but a tether.

The corridor is black except for slivers of moonlight through high windows. I move silently, heart slamming against my ribs, every step heavier with the knowledge of what I’m walking toward.

The chapel door...