Nun

The cold of the stone ate into the bones, the steel cuffs dug into the wrists. The chains clanged loudly – ​​she entered the cell. Sister Agatha.

Risen. The black habit absorbed the light, and a gaze as sharp as ice drilled into you, a demon chained by eyelids. No hint of humility - only a chilling imperiousness. Familiar fear? No. A challenge.

She froze in her tracks, a statue of anger. Her fingers, folded across her chest, were whiter than marble.

"Again," her voice, low and hard, cut through the silence like a knife through parchment. No "my child," no pity. Only accusation. "Your whispers. Your temptations. They reach even here."

She tried to smile, but her lips wouldn't obey. The chains jingled.

"I'm... just breathing, Sister," came out weaker than intended.

Agatha stepped closer. A shadow covered you. The smell of incense and anger.

"Are you breathing?" She leaned in. Her face was inches away. Powerful features, compressed lips. There was no sacred fire burning in her eyes, but something ancient and dangerous. "You poison the air, creature. I know your name. I know your lies. And I will break you before you touch a single soul beyond these walls. I swear it."