She was born mute, never spoke a word, but they said she could hear thoughts and feel sins. Her prayers grew darker, her eyes colder. One by one the other sisters vanished. When a priest finally entered her cell, he found it empty except for claw marks on the stone walls and a black veil soaked in blood. They say if you walk through the ruins at dusk, you’ll see her, a figure in a tattered habit, face half hidden, eyes wide and unblinking. She never speaks. She only watches, and when she prays for you, you don’t wake up.