The Weight of the Cassock
The stone walls of St. Jude’s Orphanage had always felt more like a fortress than a sanctuary.
E.g. ：My sister secretly destroyed my daughter's birthday, shattering her innocent heart.
- 1、The Weight of the Cassock
- 2、A Covenant of Silence
- 3、The Midnight Burial
- 4、The Voice from the Shadows
- 5、An Impossible Presence
- 6、The Glowing Truth
- 7、The Shift in Power
- 8、The Consequences of Faith
Father Thomas knew every creak in the floorboards and every shadow that stretched across the chapel at dusk.
For four decades, he had been the shepherd of the forgotten, the man who wiped tears and offered prayers to children with no names.
The community viewed him as a living saint, a pillar of unwavering faith in a world that had grown cold.
But as the clock struck midnight, the saint was nowhere to be found in his rectory.
Instead, he was standing in the mud behind the old orphanage church, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The lantern at his feet cast long, skeletal shadows against the ancient masonry of the building.
In his arms, he held a bundle wrapped in heavy, stained linen that seemed to pulse with a faint, rhythmic heat.
A Covenant of Silence
The decision to dig the hole had not been made lightly.
For weeks, Father Thomas had wrestled with the instructions sent from the high cathedral.
They told him that some miracles were not meant for the eyes of the public.
They told him that the "phenomenon" occurring within the orphanage walls was a threat to the stability of the faith.
The bundle he held was the only evidence of a girl who had arrived at the orphanage three months prior.
Her name was Clara, and she possessed a gift that defied every law of nature Father Thomas understood.
Whenever she touched the silk ribbon she wore in her hair, the air around her would begin to glow with a terrifyingly beautiful light.
The Church leaders didn't call it a blessing; they called it a disruption that needed to be neutralized.
The Midnight Burial
Father Thomas lowered the bundle into the shallow trench he had spent hours preparing.
His hands shook as he touched the rough fabric of the wrapping one last time.
He wasn't burying a person, but he felt as though he was burying his own soul.
"Nobody will find you," he muttered, the words serving as both a promise and a curse.
He began to shovel the damp earth over the bundle, the sound of the dirt hitting the linen echoing like a drumbeat.
With every scoop of soil, he felt the weight on his chest grow heavier.
He told himself he was protecting the girl by hiding the source of her strange power.
If the world saw what she could do, she would be hunted, studied, and picked apart by men with no hearts.
The Voice from the Shadows
The silence of the night was absolute, save for the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone.
Suddenly, the air temperature dropped, and the flame in the lantern flickered violently.
Father Thomas froze, his ears ringing with the sudden absence of wind.
"Father, that's mine."
The voice was small, high-pitched, and filled with a confusing sense of curiosity rather than fear.
The priest’s heart seized in his chest, and his eyes went wide with a primal terror.
He knew that voice better than his own prayers.
It belonged to Clara, the child who should have been sedated and locked in the infirmary three floors up.
He turned slowly, his boots sinking into the loose pile of dirt at the edge of the grave.
An Impossible Presence
Standing by the corner of the church was a small figure in a white nightgown.
Clara looked perfectly calm, her pale face illuminated by the moon’s silver light.
"How did you get out?" Father Thomas whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his blood.
The girl didn't answer; she only pointed toward the hole he had just half-filled.
"I can feel it crying under the dirt," she said softly, stepping closer into the lantern's dim radius.
Father Thomas felt a cold sweat break out across his brow as he looked back down at the grave.
The bundle he had just buried was shifting, the earth on top of it sliding away as if something were pushing from beneath.
