Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

S uddenly, with a sharp gasp, Ciara awoke. She felt as if she couldn't breathe as remnants of a nightmare clung to her like cobwebs, and she couldn't shake them no matter how hard she tried.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet touching the chilly wooden floor.

With great effort, she stood and made her way to the door, her every step more frail than the next. She reached for the handle, hoping against hope that it would open, but found it locked as always.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to bed. She had no idea when or even how she fell asleep. All she knew was that at one point, she suddenly heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock.

Her eyes fluttered open heavily as she watched the door creak open with a frightening groan, admitting the austere figure of Mother Superior.

"You're awake then," Mother Superior said.

Ciara could see a modest portion of stale bread and a pitcher of water, in quantities that offered little comfort to her ravenous state.

Mother Superior shut the door behind her with an authoritative finality. She placed the meager provisions on the small table next to the bed, her movements precise and devoid of any sympathy or sentiment. Then again, Ciara knew better than to expect that of her.

Ciara struggled to sit up, her spirit frail and her body weary. She had no idea what she had done to deserve such harsh treatment.

"Have you no mercy in you?" she asked, her eyes searching the stern countenance before her.

Mother Superior looked at her as if Ciara were unworthy of a longer gaze and as if all of this were nothing but a hassle for her.

"Mercy is not given freely, child. Rather, it is earned through true penitence and piety. From what I've seen so far, you have shown me neither."

A shiver of fear passed through Ciara. "Please," she begged, her voice trembling with anguish, "do not take me back to St. Catherine's. It will be the end of me."

Mother Superior stepped closer, her shadow falling heavily over Ciara's form. "St. Catherine's is a place of redemption," she declared with a sternness that brooked no argument. "There, you will find the salvation you seek."

Ciara looked down, completely beaten. Even her eyes, once sparkling with hope, were now sunken and glassy, showing that she was on the verge of giving up. "Redemption through suffering is not salvation," she countered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "It is but a form of torture."

Mother Superior's patience, though formidable, was not infinite. Her expression hardened, her eyes narrowing into a steely resolve. "Enough of your protestations," she said, her tone leaving no room for further debate. She tossed the bread onto the bed with a dismissive flick of her wrist, the stale crust landing with a soft thud beside Ciara.

"You will atone for your sins," Mother Superior continued, her voice laced with finality. "And that is the end of it. The path to redemption is arduous, and it is through enduring it that one finds grace."

With those final words, Mother Superior turned on her heel, the echo of her footsteps fading as she made her way to the door. The lock clicked shut once more, leaving Ciara alone with her scant provisions and hope which was dwindling with each passing moment.

Reluctantly, she devoured the food which didn't help at all in satiating her hunger.

As the quiet of her confinement wrapped around her like a heavy shroud, she began to hum softly, her voice barely a whisper against the silence. It was the tune of her grandmother's song, a melody imbued with the warmth and strength of a past now distant. The notes floated through the air, a fragile bridge to a time when comfort and love enveloped her in a warm embrace.

In the solitude of her cell, Ciara clung to the memory of her grandmother's unyielding fortitude. Ciara's heart ached as she recalled the times when her grandmother's words had been a beacon of hope in the darkest of moments.

With renewed resolve, she whispered a quiet promise to herself. She would endure. She would not surrender to the darkness that sought to envelop her. For if there was even the slightest chance of escape, of finding a way out of her torment, she would grasp it with every ounce of strength she possessed.

So, she kept repeating inside her mind. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on…

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Jonathan stirred from his restless sleep. The night had been fitful, without any rest. He knew that he couldn't dally. He had to keep going because he couldn't know how far away Ciara had been taken.

With a sense of urgency, he threw off the covers, got dressed, and hurried to the inn's stable, his footsteps echoing with purpose in the quiet morning with no one else awake but him. The stable welcomed him with warmth and familiarity as it was bathed in the soft, golden glow of the early sunlight which seemed to beckon him to get going. Jonathan's horse, a strong and well-bred steed, nickered softly as he approached. The animal's coat gleamed with health and vigor, a reassuring sight for Jonathan. He ran his hand along the horse's flank, feeling the firm muscles beneath the sleek coat.

"We've got a long way to go, old friend," Jonathan said with a determined edge to his voice, "but we will find Ciara. We have to."

With practiced ease, Jonathan mounted his horse, the animal shifting beneath him with a gentle nudge. He adjusted his reins, his eyes fixed on the northward path that stretched before him. Every mile traversed was a step closer to his goal, each stride a promise of hope and resolution.

The horse broke into a swift trot, and Jonathan urged it forward with a firm but gentle hand. The familiar rhythm of hooves against the road and the crisp morning air invigorated him. The landscape, with its rolling hills and distant forests, blurred into a tapestry of green and gold as he sped toward his destination.

As he rode north, the miles and hours melded into one continuous surge of purpose. The thought of Ciara, and the desperation to find her, fueled his every stride. With each passing moment, Jonathan's commitment to his search grew ever stronger, driving him forward through the dawning day.