The midday sun was beating down on the perfectly symmetrical rows of vegetable seedlings. It was hot, hotter still for the sisters working the fields. They would roll up their sleeves when doing manual labor but still had to wear their habits. It was very sweaty work. Leora was indoors and grateful for it. Today was her day to clean inside the monastery.  

She had already spent an hour dusting and sweeping the halls. Its intricate stone walls required a little bit of extra care. She then moved to clean the common room and library. She dusted the shelves and tables, the nooks and crannies. It was a lot of work but thankfully there wasn’t much grime accumulated in her cleaning route.  

Her final tasks were to make sure the ritual room and chapel were clean. She started with the chapel, beginning by scrubbing the pews and patting the carpets free of the day’s footsteps. Once done, she wiped her brow of sweat and pressed on to the raised stage where the pulpit stood. While cleaning, she couldn’t help but imagine standing in this spot like her superior did.  

She imagined the power and confidence and energy of the Lord flowing through her and what it would feel like giving sermons and sharing lessons with subordinate sisters. Feeling their eyes on her, rapt and willing. Eager to please and follow, to worship. It gave her a thrill.  

Mother Corvina’s words from the night prior echoed in her mind: ‘I see you as the future Abbess of Sacred Night.’ With a sparkle of pride in her chest, she stifled a smile and straightened the sheets of hymns on the pulpit. Once she was satisfied with her work, she moved on to the ritual room.  

She didn’t spend a lot of time in this room, admittedly. Other than cleaning, the room was used only for the daily period of silence and used by Mother Corvina and the people involved in the week’s ritual. Leora had not been a part of a ritual since giving her First Vows, and despite her persistent nagging of her fellow sisters, she had not been able to glean what the rituals were like. 

Every time she entered this room she felt cold. Clutching herself for warmth, she tried to decide where to start her cleaning efforts as she looked around the dimly lit room. An easy path, she decided, would be to start with dusting the pictures and curtains and then move on to the altar. 

With a plot plotted, she got to work. It was the hardest room to clean due to the amount patience it required. All the items on the walls were delicate, the murals and paintings old enough that Leora was surprised they weren’t crumbled into dust with a sneeze. Thus, she had to work slowly and carefully when dusting the fragile valuables, lest she damage something and face the wrath of Mother Corvina. 

After some effort and a few close calls, Leora had finished. She could finally move on to the altar itself and finish her tasks for the day. She stepped up onto the raised platform with a bucket and rag, and started scrubbing. On the floor of the altar were splotches of something dark. It was inconsistent and irregular. It looked as if someone took a paintbrush and swung it around, spraying paint all over the canvas.  

As she cleaned the dark stains away and rinsed the rag, she could have sworn it turned the water red. She shrugged and thought it just a strange hue granted by the candlelight.  

Eventually, the altar was clean, and she turned to gaze upon her work. It was spotless. With a smile she glanced over to the small raised section at the back of the altar. It was where each sister’s candle sat, the tallest of the group being hers.  

Her eyes were snatched by her candle. She moved closer, eyes captured by the flames swaying in unison. Suddenly, she remembered the page in the journal from Corvina’s study. A sketch of a candle titled ‘Soul.’ 

Kneeling before the flames, she stared. She gazed deep into her candle’s flame and wondered what that page meant. She tried to will her body to move, to stand up and finish her tasks but she was limp and weak. Her lips were parted and her mind was melting like the wax of her candle. She felt, somewhere deep down, that this was wrong. A feeling that something in the deeper pages of the journal would have warned her of this.  

But that part of her melted as arms wrapped around her and Corvina started whispering in her ear.  

‘Welcome back, disciple. Are you ready for your next lesson?’ 

The question was punctuated by a soft bite of her ear and a sinful moan escaped Leora’s lips. The shadows coiled around her limbs like snakes. They were tight and cold. She couldn’t help but give a weak nod and heard someone in a sleepy far away voice whisper, 

‘Yes, Mistress.’ 

.       .       . 

Leora woke to the comforting sound of the chimes. By the time she had come to, the sun was low and the heat of the day had cooled. She was in the gardens sitting on her favorite bench. She remembered finishing her tasks for the day but nothing else. She supposed she must have been quite tired after all the physical exertion she had to do while cleaning. It made sense that she dozed a little.  

She heard a bell ring. It was time for supper already! Leora’s stomach growled in response at the thought of food. She stood and stretched her weary limbs. They felt tight and tired like she had done a months’ worth of exercise in a few hours. After all the vigorous scrubbing and dusting she did, she was not surprised. She made her way to the refectory and sat down with her sisters to break bread. 

They all linked hands and said their prayers in unison. They gave thanks to the Lord for their food before every meal and supper was particularly special. The final meal of the day right before their evening scripture and the last thing they would eat until they broke fast the following morning. Supper was also mostly potatoes and bread, Leora’s favorites. 

As they concluded their prayers, they all dug in. They ate in silence. Leora looked around at her fellow sisters. Each one had their head down focused on their plates and not letting their eyes wander. 

Usually, Leora didn’t mind the silence and respectful clatter of cutlery but today she found it boring. She wanted to ask her sisters about their days, how their worship went, whether their daily tasks went well. She took a deep breath and tried to just focus on her food. Chew. Swallow. Fork. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t seem to shake the urge. 

Her leg started bouncing anxiously. She couldn’t take it anymore. She opened her mouth and a crack of her voice started as she was about to start speaking. With almost flawless reflexes, Lucille quickly covered Leora’s mouth with the palm of her hand.  

Leora’s eyes widened as she realized what she had nearly just done. How could she have let that happen? It was sacrilegious to speak during supper. Eating in silence gave each woman time to adequately thank the Lord for his Sacrifice. The other sisters were already giving her a wide berth after her slip ups recently. She turned to Lucille and nodded, a sign that she could remove her palm. Lucille simply glared, released Leora, and turned back to her food.  

Leora let out a sigh of relief. The feeling that was building up inside her before was gone. She would have to give Lucille a million thanks later for saving her. Confused at her own despicable actions, she picked up her utensils and finished her plate, stood up and took them to the sinks for cleaning.  

Lucille tugged her away as soon as Leora was done with her dishes. She knew the other woman was upset and disappointed in her, probably almost as much as Leora was in herself. 

Lucille hissed. “What were you thinking, Leora? You know that speaking during supper is a grave offense. We are supposed to spend the time being thankful for the Lord’s sacrifice, not gossiping like schoolgirls. If I had not stopped you…” 

“I know. I know. I would have been punished and possibly expelled from the Abbey. I understand that as a fledgling I am effectively on a trial period. It means minor mistakes can have grave consequences for my future. I do not know what came over me, Lucille. It was as if something was forcing the words out of me.” 

“You keep making mistakes, Leora. The other sisters are concerned for you.” 

Leora frowned and snapped, “Is concern why none of the others wish to talk to me anymore? Is that what concern looks like?” She covered her mouth with her hands, shocked that there was so much anger in those words. Anger was not befitting of a nun. “Sorry.” 

Lucille sighed and took Leora’s hands in her own. “Leora, I think it would be a good idea for you to take some time to meditate. Think on the words of the Lord and the rules we abide by here. Your acting out is not going to win you any favors with the others. You have already got the Abbess’ eyes on you and it would not be difficult for her to see your errors.” 

“Yes, sister. I understand. I will - I’ll do better. I swear it.” It was a lie. Leora’s body tingled. 

“Good. I shall talk to the others. Treating a sister like they have been treating you is not helpful, and I can see that it is taking a toll on you. However, I cannot promise they will adjust their behavior.” 

“Thank you, Lucille.”  

“Anything for a sister. I would hate to see you fall from grace, you have such potential.” Lucille offered a warm smile and an embrace. Leora, as touch starved as she was, cherished the feeling of the other woman against her. 

.           .          . 

Leora lay in bed with the journal in her hands with her evening sleepy-tea sitting beside her. The candle by her bedside offered some light for her to read with, but reading in the low light strained her eyes. She was determined to finish the journal before she slept. It was doable, the journal wasn’t very long, but it was a race against time with lights out in the next half hour. 

She skimmed the pages. So much of it was the author’s personal journey with God. While Leora learned some from the author’s perspective, it wasn’t the juicy history that she was hoping for.  

Leora dug deeper, further into the pages of the journal. 

The convent has grown as of late. Sisters have been joining from all around the country. I adore seeing the new faces and new smiles. All of them so devoted to the Lord. So many of them have only ever experienced the purity of religion and the peace it offers. Their naiveté is wonderful, their purity is delicious. 

Leora reread the sentence once. Twice. Three times to be sure. Delicious? It was a strange word to use in context. Purity was the goal of holy women, and in a way, it is a very comforting feeling to be surrounded by other pure women. Especially when so many nuns came from darker times surrounded by darker influences. That could be delicious, in a way?  

She shrugged and turned the page, choosing to believe it was just a quirk of the time the journal was written. 

Our Abbess has become sickly. Her age is not conducive to her survival. She is likely to pass on within the week. We have received approval from the Church. I am due to lead the Abbey in result of her passing. The other sisters are praying for her health. 

Leora felt suddenly filled with sorrow and dread. Was she doomed to age and pass on like her elders? It seemed unfair, like a curse. She could spend eternity in worship of the Lord if only she was able to live forever. Leora wondered if there would be flowers like the gardens of the Abbey in Heaven. She flicked through a couple more pages and continued reading. 

It has been some time since the former Abbess’ passing, Truth be told, I have barely thought of her. It was only when I saw her portrait on a wall in the chapel that she flickered back into my consciousness. I ordered the fledglings to remove all traces of her. Her legacy is mine to control, the Abbey will soon be under my sway. We shall start the candle rituals in the next few weeks. 

Anyone who does not follow shall be threatened with exile. 

Leora had finally stumbled upon something interesting about the Abbey’s rituals. The candle lighting ritual of vows was put in place by the author a hundred years ago. To Leora, it was quite shocking to learn that it hadn’t always been a part of the convent. After all, she loved her candle, what it represented and loved the Ritual of First Vows she had taken part in. 

Leora believed it was a change for the better. Still, exile for not taking part seemed harsh… Whoever the author was did not hesitate to make difficult sacrifices for the sake of the Lord. An admirable trait. 

She turned the page to the final entry and noticed another sketch. It was a detailed rendition of a woman’s arm, her hand extended with an open palm facing upwards. She had long claw-like nails. Wrapped around her arm was a snake shaded in dark black ink, the head of it resting upon the woman’s open palm. The author took the time to draw each and every scale on its body and Leora was taken aback by the detail. 

Beside the sketch was a passage. 

Blessed be to the one and only. 

The Abbey is ours, for now and forever. 

Drink deep of the inhabitants within. 

Show them purity so that they may fall. 

Help them fall so that they may know truth. 

Let their Light be balanced by the Night. 

And their souls shall burn in flame. 

She remembered the second to last line from the motto engraved upon the buildings entrance. It was the main teaching of the Sacred Night Abbey that differed from most other branches of the Church. While most Catholic institutions valued following the Lord’s light, the Sacred Night sisters valued both night and light in equal. One without the other makes the one worthless. 

There was nothing else on the page save for a single initial. The letter ‘A’ followed by a period in the bottom right-hand corner of the page. It also looked like the subsequent pages were torn out.  

Leora was disappointed. She had learned little. She found some clues and discovered some of the Abbey’s past but… she still did not know who wrote the journal. The author’s identity was a mystery that itched at her mind even as she drank her nightly tea. 

Leora blew out her candle and the protective bubble of light the flame cast vanished. She shut her eyes and idly wondered if Mother Corvina had any idea who the mysterious ‘A’ was. She had to know, Leora had no other leads. 

The remedy hit her system and her body fell limp. Darkness enveloped Leora’s mind as sleep snatched her consciousness away and into her dreams. 

.        .        . 

Black snakes of differing sizes curled and spiraled around Leora’s limbs. They crawled up her body. She felt their cold scales against her skin and instinctively pulled away. They held her tighter trapping her against the bed. She struggled and opened her mouth to scream but something covered her mouth. Someone started whispering in her ear. 

If she could have opened her eyes she would have seen another set staring down at her, aglow in a fiery ember. Her restraints tightened further and further until she could barely manage a pathetic wiggle. The thing holding her mouth shut moved to also cover her nose and she could feel its claws on her cheek. 

She was being smothered and she couldn’t breathe. She wished she had known when the thing was going to cut off her air, but she was unprepared and had little in her lungs. She fought and let out a muffled scream. Her lungs burned. Her head throbbed, flames wicking away at her thoughts and memories. 

The most embarrassing thing of all, was the fact that her body was enjoying this. The sacred garden between her legs dripped with an ache never sated. 

Leora heard a deep laugh. It sounded both far away and right next to her. The lack of air crumbled her resolve and her sense of reality. In an attempt to remain conscious, she tried to grasp at a memory. She looked for her parent’s faces, the flowers outside her house. She found them and, as if waiting for her to find where the memories were hiding, the flame suddenly snared them. 

She watched as the memories turned to ash. Her body fell still as her lifeline burned away, leaving nothing between the flames and her sanity, her will. Leora’s already charred psyche burned just a little further. It was all too much. She felt her consciousness fall into the flame-lit abyss of Hell. 

.     .     . 

Leora woke with a start. She still felt like she was unable to breathe but after a few moments of sputtering and wheezing, her lungs started working again. She was slick with sweat and felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach. She had grown accustomed to the soft calming chime as she woke. To be jolted awake in pure terror left her feeling antsy and incomplete.  

With a groan she got out of her bed and stumbled out into the hall to the restrooms. It was still dark and cold in the Abbey’s hallways and the sun still had plenty time to rise. The door to the restrooms creaked as it opened and it made her head throb. She held onto one of the sinks like her life depended on it, staring at herself in the mirror. Her skin was white as snow and she felt ill. There were bags under her eyes like she hadn’t slept for weeks. 

She wished for the sweet chime to pull her from this nightmare of a morning, but no chime arrived. She splashed her face with cold water hoping it would wake her a little more. Instead, she was just wet, cold, and sad. When she returned to her quarters she crawled back into bed and laid there in the dark. Her skin itched and she felt cold to her core. 

Leora closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep again. Determined to keep trying, she rolled around in bed and hoped sleep would arrive. After about an hour of this, she gave up. Her stomach felt uneasy by the thought of going through the day like this but it seemed like she had no choice.  

As Leora shivered and fidgeted, she glanced over at her nightstand and spotted the glass vial glinting in the moonlight. Inside her, she felt something tug her. A want. A need. There was one way to ensure a good night’s rest this night. She could take more of the potion. Just a couple more drops. Three, at most. 

‘Do it. Do it. Do it. More. You need it.’ 

Leora bit her lip. Her head ached and throbbed. She couldn’t take more. What if she missed morning service? It would be very hard to wake up if she took a larger dose than normal at this time of night. It would help her sleep, but the potential cost was too great. 

She dug her fingers into her knees and forced herself to look away from the tempting vial. It would be best, she decided, if she just got dressed and went outside. She would stop by Corvina’s study to return the journal, and pick up a new book to read. A nice distraction from the awful sensations she was feeling.  

Leora stepped out into the hall with her unlit candle and used one of the candles lighting the hallway to relight it. With the journal under her arm, she walked through the dark Abbey. She hoped nobody would find her out here at this late an hour. She was already in enough trouble as is. 

The dark hallways played tricks on her eyes. She felt as if there were eyes in the cracks between the bricks, watching her. The shadows seemed to snake in and out of the candlelight in unnatural ways - as if the light was pushing them back. To say it unnerved Leora would be an understatement. She felt afraid. 

After what felt like far too long and way too many steps, she came across the exquisite door to Corvina’s study. The moon on the surface sparkled and twinkled in the candlelight. She inserted the key and turned, hearing the mechanism in the deep wood unlock with a heavy click. It was loud enough that Leora winced and paused, waiting for someone to step out of the darkness to drag her back to her quarters. 

When a few moments had passed and nobody arrived, she opened the doors and stepped inside. With the candle raised up a little higher, she could take in a little more of the dark room. She walked toward the bookcase and set the candle down nearby. Her eyes scanned the shelves for the empty spot left by the book she removed. Once she found it, she gently pushed the journal back into its rightful place. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a book on the far-right shelf fall to the ground. How strange. Leora picked it up out of curiosity, it was heavier than it appeared. A red leather-bound tome with an embossed cover. 

She couldn’t make out the detail on the cover in the dark. She ran her fingers across the ridges and felt an energy flow into her, an energy that compelled her to read. She opened it to skim the pages and get a feel for its contents but was suddenly interrupted by her head throbbing again.  

She couldn’t even think without the pain getting worse and moved to sit on Corvina’s black chair. The pain was deep in her eye socket and her skin crawled with unpleasant worm-like chills. The whole world felt far too overwhelming for Leora to deal with. She pulled her knees to her chest and started taking rapid shallow breaths.  

It was all too much. Leora started sobbing. She wanted the pain to go away but it all felt hopeless. Sitting there on the chair in the dark, she prayed for it to end and waited for the sun to rise.