Maria's Dream, Anythe's Nightmare.

The first rays of sunlight creep through the convent's narrow windows, painting the stone walls in soft gold. The air buzzes with excitement and reverence. 

It's a rare occasion to welcome a new sister into the fold. But for the person that the day of joy is for, the morning feels like a nightmare.

She moves quietly about her small room, avoiding the polished silver mirror atop her wooden shelf. Her reflection unnerves her now. The face she once knew seems foreign, her eyes still faintly tinged with that unnatural purple, even though it's a little bit receded now that its daylight. She shakes her head, forcing herself to focus. 

The ceremony will begin soon, and she must prepare. Whatever will happen there will happen but for now, she has to get out there before they come banging at her door.

Her white robes are freshly laundered, the faint scent of the handmade washing soap clinging to the fabric. As she adjusts the veil over her hair, a sharp knock on the door makes her flinch.

"Anythe?" It's Sister Mary, her caretaker since childhood. "It's time, come on out."

"I'll be right out." Anythe replies, her voice steady despite the turmoil going on within her.

When she steps into the hallway, the other sisters greet her with warm smiles and gentle words of encouragement. She nods politely, but her gaze flickers around, searching for someone she desperately hopes to avoid.

Atlas.

He's there, of course, standing near the chapel's arched entrance. His eyes find her instantly, piercing and intent. Anythe feels a knot tighten in her chest, almost like he knows what she had been up to that morning in his bedroom, in his bed, atop him. She doesn't linger. With hurried steps, she enters the preparation room where the ceremony will begin.

*

The chapel is a work of art, its high ceilings adorned with paintings of different holy creatures and for the first time in eighteen years, she feels filthy to be standing in front of them. Rays of light pour through stained-glass windows, casting bright colors across the stone floor. Rows of pews stretch toward the altar, where candles flicker softly, their flames a bright orange.

Everything seems to be in her favor, except her own self.

The other nuns and novices are seated on one side of the chapel, while priests and other clergy occupy the other. In the center, before the altar, stands the Mother Superior. Beside her is a simple silver tray holding a plain gold ring. 

The ring that she is supposed to accept.

Anythe stands at the back of the chapel, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her heart pounds as she takes in the scene, the weight of the moment pressing down on her being.

The ceremony begins with hymns, the choir's voices rising in harmony. 

The Mother Superior begins to talk of devotion, sacrifice, and the beauty of a life dedicated to their deity.

"Sisters, today we welcome another into our sacred family." She speaks, her voice steady and kind, as it has always been.

The congregation watches as Anythe steps forward, her movements careful and deliberate. She kneels before the altar, her head bowed, while the Mother Superior places a hand on her shoulder. The hand, instead of feeling like a beacon of hope and assurance, instead feels like a one ton rock being placed on her shoulders and she casts her eyes down.

"This vow is not made lightly," the elder nun continues. "It is a promise to live a life of chastity, poverty, and obedience, to serve with unwavering faith."

As the Mother Superior speaks, Anythe's mind races. Words of prayer swirl around her, but she can't focus on them. All she hears is the voice from last night, echoing in the corners of her mind.

You can't deny who you are.

The final part of the ceremony begins. A small Bible is placed into Anythe's hands, a symbol of her spiritual duty.

"Do you, Maria, vow to dedicate your life, forsaking all worldly desires, and accepting the ring as a symbol of your sacred union with Him?"

The room falls silent.

Anythe's throat tightens. The Mother Superior holds out the ring, her expression expectant.

This is the moment she's dreamed of since childhood. She had imagined herself standing here, filled with joy and certainty, ready to embrace her destiny. But now, as the weight of the ring looms before her, all she feels is dread.

The memories of last night flood her mind: the voice, the darkness, the surge of power she couldn't control. Her hands tremble as she clutches the Bible. She doesn't feel pure. She doesn't feel worthy.

"I…" Her voice falters.

The Mother Superior leans closer. "Take your time, child. It is a weighty decision. Even I hesitated."

Anythe's gaze drifts to the congregation. She catches Father Atlas's eyes, filled with an intensity she can't decipher. The sisters she's grown up with look on, their faces hopeful and proud.

But she can't do it.

"No," she whispers, the word barely audible.

The Mother Superior blinks, uncertain if she's heard correctly. "What did you say?"

Maria died when she was seventeen. This is Anythe, and Anythe is not about to be a nun.

Anythe's voice grows stronger, surer and firmer. "No. I can't."

Gasps ripple through the chapel. Whispers spread like wildfire among the congregation.

The Mother Superior's face softens, though her confusion is evident. "Maria, are you certain? This is your moment, your calling…"

"I'm sorry." Anythe interrupts, her voice cracking. Tears sting her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. "I can't do this. I'm not… I'm not ready. I'll never be."

Before anyone can stop her, she stands and runs, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the stunned silence.

Anythe bursts into her room, running the fastest she has ever run before, slamming the door shut behind her. Her breathing is ragged, her chest tight. She leans against the door, sliding down until she's sitting on the cold stone floor.

The tears come then, hot and relentless. She buries her face in her hands, her body wracked with sobs.

"This was supposed to be my dream. I'm supposed to be Maria, Sister Maria." She whispers to herself. "This was supposed to be everything but now..."

But the dream feels like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the darkness she can't escape. She doesn't know what's happening to her, but she knows one thing for certain: she can't stand before God and vow to be something she's not.

The voice returns, a faint whisper at first, then louder.

"You did the right thing," it says, almost soothing. "You're finally starting to see the truth."

Anythe clenches her fists. "Leave me alone."

But the voice only laughs, its tone mocking and triumphant.

"Run all you want," it says. "But you can't outrun who you are."

The words linger as she sits there, trembling and alone. Somewhere deep inside, she knows the voice is right.

And now, she is going to accept it.

What you can't fight, join it.

Without any other moment's hesitation, she begins to pack her small belongings into a small duffle bag.