X
EDEN
A shriek rips through the early morning air.
I wake with a jolt, my breath catching. My heart is thrumming against my ribs, my fingers numb. For a moment, I’m suspended in that hazy span of nothingness between sleep and waking up. The remnants of a dream about the Second Coming of Christ dissolves into the icy grip of reality.
Was the shriek a part of the dream?
I hear it again.
Footsteps thunder through the hallway. Every step frantic, the murmurs muffled by our closed door. A strange, unsettling energy that I can’t quite place washes over me. I push the covers back and sit up.
The room is a bit dark, as the light streaming through the windows is quite pale. It can’t be more than a few minutes after dawn. In the dimness, I make out Vivienne slipping into her robe and tying the sash with slow, robotic movements.
She doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. Not even a flinch, despite chaos erupting beyond the door—chaos that has me on edge .
“What’s happening?” My mouth is bitter, my voice cracking from sleep.
Vivienne gives me a lazy glance, then turns towards the door. “The same thing that always happens at the start of a new semester.”
She says it so simply, so casually , as if what’s happening is a regular occurrence.
The only time I’ve ever been woken up by a shriek was when one of the ￡185,000 grand pianos my mother imported for the ballroom arrived with scuffed legs.
My skin prickles. “What does that mean, Vivienne?”
She doesn’t answer. A sharp, insistent pain twists my gut. I lurch out of bed, grabbing my robe and tying it hastily. Shoving my feet into my bed slippers, I follow her into the hallway.
Every girl in our dormitory seems to be in the corridor.
There is a flood of bodies. Girls push past each other, whispering behind their hands. There’s fear on their faces. Curiosity too. Some are aghast, holding on to their robes tightly as they hurry toward the entrance. I also pick up on the subtle feeling of excitement—some of the girls wear smiles, their eyes glistening.
What could have possibly happened?
I hold the cross hanging from my neck tightly. There’s a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that grows stronger with each step I take. Vivienne moves through the throng, weaving between the clusters of girls until we reach the front doors of the dormitory. I follow her. Some of them step out of my way when they notice that it’s me .
At the top of the stone steps, there’s a dense crowd. A writhing mass of silk robes and wide-eyed faces, pressing close to see. I’m getting nauseous now. A crowd this big? Something bad must have happened. Vivienne grips my wrist as she steps forward, the crowd parting just enough for us to slip through.
What I see sends an icy shock through my veins.
A body.
A body lying sprawled on the cold stone, naked, drenched in blood.
For a moment my mind goes blank.
I must be hallucinating, because there’s no way…
The girl is still alive—barely. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. Dark, glistening blood pools beneath her, seeping into the cracked stone. Her arms are limp at her sides, her legs bent unnaturally. Her short hair fans out around her head, sticky with maroon. She moans softly, desperately trying to move.
Even through the mess of blood, I recognize her.
She’s one of the girls who was on the walking tour with me and Sister Sully. Dana, I think her name was—Dana Khan. I remember her from Communion, too.
There must be a strange look on my face while I stare at her, because Vivienne murmurs, “It’s the Communion Curse.”
The chill wraps around my spine, sinking deep into my bones.
The Communion Curse ?
I shudder at the thought that something so Holy could be used in the same sentence as the word curse. Communion is a special, sacred thing. What could possibly be cursed about it? Before I can ask what she means, another voice speaks.
It’s a girl I don’t recognize. She is taller than me with light brown hair braided neatly down her back. She’s clearly in her final year like Vivienne, because her expression is similarly unreadable, but definitely unsurprised.
“This happens after some communions,” she says, matter-of-factly. “But you’re never sure who it will be. Augustine tradition.”
Tradition .
Communions are every Sunday. Then that means…
The nuns are coming now, their habits flowing in the light wind as they move swiftly toward the girl. The school doctor is with them, his face drawn in tight-lipped urgency. There are mixed reactions in the crowd.
I’m shocked stiff.
Some students turn away. Others watch with macabre interest. I even see one girl clutch her rosary, muttering a prayer underneath her breath.
What is she praying for, that she isn’t next?
Or is she asking the Lord to strengthen Dana’s mind and body?
I watch as the nuns kneel beside Dana, pressing cloth to her wounds, whispering in low soothing tones. The doctor works quickly, pulling out medical supplies, his fingers steady despite the horror in front of him.
There’s concern on their faces but not shock.
Just how many times have they seen it happen?
How is this even a tradition at a Holy School like Augustine Diocesan Academy? A student, nearly killed and naked—is normal here? Something so malevolent, so evil, so Satanic is just another occurrence?
I watch with bated breath, my eyes wide.
Then I remember.
How Silas held me back from taking Communion.
In fact, if I had gone when I wanted to—I would have taken it in Dana’s place.
But Silas wouldn’t let me.
A strange, suffocating realization crashes over me.
He knew.
He knew and he saved me.
He knew that taking Communion wasn’t safe. He knew about the curse and did what he could to protect me. This curse must be related to some sort of malicious spirit bound to the ancient campus, and he must have been following his Godly instincts.
There’s a slow and seismic shift in my mind, and a quiet unraveling in the pit of my stomach. I almost feel terrible for feeling happy that it wasn’t me, bloodied, naked and writhing on the cold stone pavement.
My conscience condemns me.
Despite everything—my own motives, my carefully constructed plan to trick Silas and then disappear—Silas protected me. I reach for my phone in the pocket of my robe with trembling fingers.
Eden:
Thank you.
The response is almost immediate.
Silas:
For what?
I swallow hard. Glancing at Dana.
Eden:
The Communion Curse. I feel like your instincts protected me.
A pause. Then he sends me a red heart emoji.
Silas:
I just knew something was off. Thank you for trusting me. I’m here to protect you, Eden. Please don’t ever forget that.
A glow spreads through my chest, warming my limbs. The sharp edges of my fear are turning into something else—something I’ve never felt before. But I’ve read enough romance books to know what it is.
He’ll always protect me.
I stare at the screen for a long moment, biting my lip to hide my smile.
When I finally look up, Vivienne is watching me, her face still unreadable. Then she says, “Augustine can be dangerous sometimes.”
Her words roll off me like water off a duck’s feathers. “Silas will protect me.”
“A lot of weird things happen here, Eden.” She tilts her head slightly. “Make sure you can protect yourself too.”
Something in her voice unsettles me. Her dark-eyed gaze is steady.
“These things don’t just happen. It’s not some angry spirit haunting the school,” she says quietly. “People do them.”
Then she turns and walks away. I’m rooted in my spot. Mulling over her words. Vivienne is wrong, though. She has to be.
Nobody at this school—this Holy School—would ever be so cruel. This has to be the work of a rogue spirit that hasn’t been properly exorcised. Or even worse, an outsider who wants to strike fear into the hearts of the Lord’s Holy Ones. If there’s fear about taking Communion, then less people will take it—effectively destroying one of the practices that bring us closer to God.
A weak moan pulls my attention back to Dana.
She’s moving again. Barely.
The doctor and nuns have covered her with a thick blanket. Her lips move, forming sounds that are almost words. A name. She’s trying to say a name, I step forward, straining to hear.
A nun leans down, pressing a firm, gloved hand over her mouth. “Don’t waste your strength, darling,” she soothes.
Then, they take her away.
The crowd begins to disperse, the murmurs fading into an early morning hush.
One by one, everyone leaves—retreating to their lives. To get ready for the first day of lectures, to go to breakfast and chat like nothing happened.
I stay. My eyes linger on the dark stain left behind. Dana stood at the doors of death, and the Lord saved her. I can’t imagine how she must feel.
How her family will feel.
If that had happened to me…I don’t think I’d ever be able to recover emotionally. I’m already walking the tightrope between sanity and insanity. My family would feel sad, I think. My mother would probably send me away again, to some secluded hospital to fix me. My father would probably take legal action. And my younger brothers? They’d probably just root through the stuff in my room to find things to poke fun at me when I get back.
The Communion Curse.
The thought prickles my skin like cold water.
Silas knew, and he saved me. I can’t get over it. If I needed any more proof that this was the right decision, that God approves of my pursuit of him—then this is it.
I glance down at my phone, rereading his message.
“I’ll always protect you, Eden.”
I allow myself to smile, to feel happy.
Just this once.
Tucking my phone away, I turn back toward the dormitory doors. As I walk to my room, I think of the implications of what I just saw. Though I’m attending Augustine by force, part of me thought of it as a fresh start, the beginning of something new for me. After all, I came here to find a man willing to propose to me.
It’s only my third day here, but I’m sure of one thing.
Augustine Diocesan Academy is not what it seems.