When Elira woke, she wasn't in her room.
The air was thick, musty. She felt disoriented, her hands bound to an old wooden chair. Her heart raced as she tried to move, but her body was stiff from the cold.
Sister Helena was standing in front of her, her face emotionless, as if this was all part of some twisted game.
"You think you're special, don't you?" Helena's voice was low, almost pitying. "But you're just like them."
Before Elira could respond, the door behind Sister Helena opened, and a figure stepped into the room.
A man. Tall, broad-shouldered. His face was obscured by shadows, but his eyes—cold and unfeeling—gazed directly at her.
Sister Helena stepped aside, revealing a desk covered in papers. The man moved to the desk, flipping through the files.
Elira's heart skipped a beat.
She recognized the names.
The children.
All of them had been marked with one simple word: missing. But the files didn't stop there.
The names were crossed out, replaced by another word.
Sacrificed.
Elira's breath caught in her throat. She looked up at Sister Helena. "What is this?" Her voice trembled.
Helena smiled, but it was a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"They were chosen," she said. "And so were you."
The man behind her slammed a file down onto the desk, and Elira's eyes locked onto it.
Her own name was there.
Elira.
Sacrificed.
The world around her blurred as the truth settled in. She wasn't here by accident. She wasn't just another orphan.
She was meant to be a part of this.
Helena's voice broke through the fog in her mind. "Do you see now? You were always meant to join them. You are one of them."
Suddenly, Elira understood.
The hunt had only just begun.