"You worthless little rat! Get back here!"
The Loud voice of Sister Margaret echoed through the cold halls of St. Catherine's Orphanage as Elarose Vaspera pressed her back against the wall, her heart pounding like a wild drum. Her green eyes looked left and right, searching for an escape route that didn't exist.
"I didn't break the vase," she said to herself, holding her thin nightgown tighter around her trembling body. The scar on her wrist throbbed with a dull ache, as it always did when fear consumed her.
Heavy footsteps approached, each one making the floorboards creak like old bones. Elarose closed her eyes and tried to make herself smaller, hoping the shadows would swallow her. At twenty-two, she was too old to be hiding in corners like a frightened child, but St. Catherine's had a way of keeping everyone trapped in their worst moments.
"There you are." Sister Margaret's cold fingers wrapped around Elarose's arm like iron chains. The old woman's face was twisted with the same cruel expression she wore every day. "Did you think you could hide from me?"
"Please, I didn't do anything wrong," Elarose said, her voice barely above a whisper. She had learned long ago that speaking too loudly only made the punishment worse.
Sister Margaret's grip tightened. "Lies. Always lies with you." Her yellow teeth showed in what might have been a smile on anyone else's face. "You're cursed, girl. Just like your mother was."
The words hit Elarose like a physical blow. She had heard this before, but it never stopped hurting. "My mother wasn't cursed."
"Your mother abandoned you here because she knew what you were." Sister Margaret dragged Elarose down the hallway, past the rooms where other orphans pretended to sleep. "Evil runs in your blood, child. I can smell it on you."
Elarose stumbled as they walked, her bare feet slipping on the cold floor. The orphanage felt more like a prison tonight, with its high windows casting strange shadows on the walls. Outside, she could see the full moon hanging in the sky like a silver coin, brighter than she had ever seen it before.
Something stirred deep in her chest as she looked at that moon. A warmth that had nothing to do with the thin blanket she wrapped around herself every night. A calling that seemed to whisper her name in a voice she didn't recognize.
"Into the cellar with you," Sister Margaret said, pushing open a heavy wooden door. "Maybe a night with the rats will teach you some respect."
The cellar was pitch black and smelled of old vegetables and something else—something that made Elarose's nose wrinkle. She had spent many nights down here over the years, but tonight felt different. The air seemed to hum with energy, and that strange warmth in her chest grew stronger.
"I'll let you out when you've learned your lesson," Sister Margaret said, slamming the door shut. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed in the darkness.
Elarose sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. This was her life. This had always been her life. Twenty-two years of being told she was worthless, cursed, unwanted. Twenty-two years of wondering why her mother had left her here, why she felt so different from everyone else.
The moonlight filtered through a small window near the ceiling, creating a silver square on the floor. Elarose found herself drawn to it, crawling across the cold stone until she sat in that patch of light. The warmth in her chest spread through her whole body, and for the first time in years, she didn't feel afraid.
"What's happening to me?" she whispered to the empty room.
The moon seemed to pulse in response, and that strange calling grew stronger. It wasn't just in her head anymore—it was in her bones, in her blood, pulling her toward something she couldn't name. Something that waited for her beyond these walls.
Hours passed. The orphanage grew quiet except for the usual sounds—creaking wood, scurrying mice, the occasional cry from one of the younger children having a nightmare. But Elarose barely heard any of it. All her attention was focused on the moon and the way it made her feel alive for the first time in her life.
Then she heard it. A soft scratching at the cellar window.
Elarose looked up to see a shadow moving outside. At first, she thought it might be a tree branch blown by the wind, but the scratching came again, more insistent this time. Someone—or something—was trying to get her attention.
"Hello?" she called softly, standing up and moving closer to the window.
The scratching stopped. For a moment, everything was silent. Then a voice drifted down from above, so quiet she almost missed it.
"Come outside, Elarose."
Her blood turned to ice. No one at the orphanage ever called her by her real name. To them, she was "girl" or "worthless" or worse. But this voice spoke her name like it was something precious, something important.
"Who are you?" she asked, but there was no answer.
The voice came again, closer this time. "The moon is calling you. Don't you feel it?"
She did feel it. That warmth, that pulling sensation that had been growing stronger all night. It was as if invisible threads connected her to something vast and powerful, something that had been waiting for her all her life.
"I can't come outside," she said. "I'm locked in."
Laughter drifted down from the window, soft and musical. "Locks are nothing to someone like you, Elarose. You just don't know what you are yet."
"What do you mean?"
But the voice was already moving away. She could hear footsteps on the gravel outside, growing fainter with each second.
"Wait!" she called, but it was too late.
Elarose stared at the empty window for a long time, her heart racing. Someone like her? What did that mean? And how did this stranger know her name?
The moon continued to shine through the window, and that strange calling grew even stronger. It was like a song now, wordless but beautiful, filling her head with melodies she had never heard before. Her feet began to move on their own, carrying her to the cellar door.
She pressed her ear against the wood, listening for any sign of Sister Margaret or the other nuns. The orphanage was completely silent. Even the mice seemed to have gone to sleep.
Elarose put her hand on the door handle and turned it slowly. To her amazement, it opened with barely a whisper of sound. The lock that had trapped her so many times before hung open, as if it had never been secured at all.
Her heart hammered as she stepped into the hallway. This was impossible. Sister Margaret always locked that door. Always. But here she was, free to walk wherever she wanted.
The moon called to her again, stronger than ever. Without fully understanding why, Elarose found herself walking toward the main entrance of the orphanage. Her bare feet made no sound on the cold floor, and the shadows seemed to part before her like curtains.
The front door was massive and made of thick oak, with three different locks that Sister Margaret checked every night before bed. But when Elarose touched the handle, all three locks clicked open at once.
She stepped outside into the cool night air, and immediately felt like she could breathe for the first time in years. The moon hung directly above her, so bright it cast her shadow sharp and clear on the ground below. That warmth in her chest spread through her entire body, making her skin tingle.
"You came."
Elarose spun around to see a figure standing at the edge of the woods that bordered the orphanage grounds. It was too dark to make out details, but she could tell it was tall and moved with an odd, flowing grace.
"Who are you?" she asked, surprised by how steady her voice sounded.
"Someone who has been waiting for you for a very long time." The figure began walking toward her, staying just at the edge of the shadows. "Do you know what tonight is, Elarose?"
She looked up at the moon again. It seemed even brighter now, almost like a second sun. "It's a full moon."
"Not just any full moon. Tonight is special. Tonight is when everything changes."
Something in the figure's voice made her take a step backward. The warmth in her chest was still there, but now it was mixed with fear. "Changes how?"
The figure stopped walking and tilted its head, as if listening to something she couldn't hear. "Your blood sings tonight, child. Can you hear it?"