The Saint of Oakhaven
The iron gates of St. Jude’s Orphanage groaned under the weight of a century of secrets.
- 1、The Saint of Oakhaven
- 2、The Midnight Ritual
- 3、A Voice from the Shadows
- 4、The Mirror of Guilt
- 5、The Unholy Alliance
- 6、The Weight of the Secret
To the locals in the village of Oakhaven, Sister Beatrice was the pillar of the community.
She was the woman who took in the unwanted and gave them a reason to smile.
Her habit was always pressed, her silver cross always polished, and her eyes always filled with a weary, gentle kindness.
But the children at the orphanage knew a different version of the woman they called Mother.
They knew the version that never slept.
They knew the woman who watched the clock with a predatory focus as the sun began to set.
Among those children was Lily, a quiet seven-year-old with blonde curls and a habit of disappearing into the architecture.
Lily was the only one who noticed that Sister Beatrice’s boots were always caked in fresh mud during morning prayer.
She was the only one who saw the golden ribbon peeking out from the sister’s heavy black pocket.
The Midnight Ritual
The forest behind the orphanage was a tangle of ancient oaks and suffocating fog.
It was a place where the light of the moon rarely touched the forest floor.
Beatrice moved through the trees with the familiarity of someone walking through their own home.
She carried a lantern that cast long, flickering shadows against the bark.
In her other hand, she gripped a shovel, its metal edge dulled by years of nocturnal labor.
Tonight was the anniversary of the day everything changed.
Seven years ago, Beatrice had arrived at the orphanage with a different name and a blood-stained past.
She had taken the identity of a woman who no longer needed it.
She had built a life on a foundation of silence and stolen prayers.
But the past has a way of clawing its way back to the surface.
The bundle she carried tonight contained the last evidence of her true identity: a royal crest and a lace garment that proved she wasn't a nun at all.
A Voice from the Shadows
Beatrice knelt in the dirt, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
She began to dig, the sound of the shovel hitting the earth echoing like a heartbeat.
The soil was cold and unforgiving, much like the life she had left behind.
She placed the bundle—a small white cloth tied with a golden ribbon—into the hole.
"No one will ever find you," she whispered, a tear tracing a path through the dirt on her cheek.
She felt a sense of relief wash over her, a fleeting moment of peace.
Then, the air turned ice-cold.
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"Mama, what are you doing?"
The voice was tiny, high-pitched, and impossibly familiar.
Beatrice’s entire body locked into a state of primal terror.
She hadn't heard a single footstep.
She hadn't heard the ferns rustling or the fireflies scattering.
She turned her head with agonizing slowness, her neck popping in the silence.
Standing five meters away was Lily.
The girl looked ethereal in the dim lantern light, her white lace dress glowing like a beacon against the blue shadows.
The Mirror of Guilt
Beatrice looked at Lily, then looked down at the bundle in the grave.
The corner of the cloth had fallen away, revealing the same lace, the same golden ribbon.
"Lily, you should be in the dormitory," Beatrice managed to choke out.
Her voice didn't sound like a saint's; it sounded like a criminal's.
The girl didn't move, her hands resting calmly at her sides as fireflies circled her head.
"I saw you yesterday, too," Lily said, her voice devoid of judgment or fear.
"And the night before that."
Beatrice felt the ground beneath her start to give way.
"I don't know what you think you saw, child," she lied, the shovel trembling in her hand.
"I saw you burying the things that make you sad," Lily replied, stepping closer.
The girl’s eyes weren't those of a confused child; they were deep, knowing wells of ancient understanding.
Lily reached into her own pocket and pulled out a small, silver locket.
It was the locket that the real Sister Beatrice had been wearing the night she disappeared.
The Unholy Alliance
Beatrice dropped the shovel, the metal clanging against a stone.
"Where did you get that?" she hissed, her facade of holiness finally shattering.
"I found it in the floorboards of your office," Lily said, her smile broadening into something unsettling.
The girl walked to the edge of the grave and looked down at the bundle.
"You're not a nun, are you?" Lily asked, looking up at Beatrice.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the lungs.
Beatrice realized in that moment that her life hung in the balance of a seven-year-old’s whim.
She looked at the girl and saw not a victim, but a mirror of her own ambition.
"And you're not an orphan, are you, Lily?" Beatrice countered, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous register.
The girl’s smile didn't falter.
"I’m whatever you need me to be, Mama," Lily whispered.
"As long as we keep digging."
The Weight of the Secret
The two of them stood in the clearing, a fake saint and a child with a predator's soul.
Beatrice realized that the girl hadn't followed her out of curiosity.
She had followed her to claim her stake in the deception.
The orphanage was no longer a sanctuary; it was a fortress for two people with nowhere else to go.
Lily knelt beside Beatrice and picked up a handful of dirt.
She let it trickle over the golden ribbon in the grave.
"We should finish," Lily said.
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"The Bishop is coming tomorrow, and he’ll want to see his favorite niece."
Beatrice felt a new kind of coldness settle in her chest.
She had thought she was burying her past.
Instead, she was digging a hole deep enough for two.
As they worked together under the watch of the silent owls, the line between protector and monster vanished.
In the heart of the forest, the golden ribbon was covered, but the ties that bound them were just beginning to tighten.
