The silence shattered at midnight.
Elira shot up in bed, heart pounding. A scream tore through the hallway—raw and shrill, like nails dragged across glass. It ended in a choked sob.
She held her breath, listening.
Footsteps. Heavy. Slow. Getting closer.
She slid off the bed and crouched by the door, careful not to make a sound. Through the thin crack beneath it, flickers of light passed—like candle flames dancing in the dark.
And then she saw them.
Two shadows. One tall, cloaked in black. The other small and trembling.
The tall figure gripped the child by the wrist, yanking her forward. Elira recognized the woman's silhouette—Sister Helena.
The child struggled, whimpered. "Please," she whispered, "I'll be good, I swear—"
A slap echoed, sharp and final.
Sister Helena dragged the girl toward the end of the hallway. The girl's feet scraped against the floor. And then—they stopped in front of the Red Room.
The door opened without a sound.
A crimson light spilled out, glowing like an open wound.
Elira covered her mouth.
Sister Helena leaned close to the child and whispered something Elira couldn't hear. The girl screamed again—but only for a second. Then the door slammed shut.
The hallway returned to silence.
No footsteps. No sobs.
Only the red light slowly fading from beneath the door.
Elira stayed frozen by the door for what felt like hours.
And when she finally dared to breathe, the only sound left was the quiet creak of something… chewing.