The fire started in the chapel. It wasn’t supposed to. It was supposed to start in the kitchen, where the old gas line hissed like a sleeping snake, ready to be roused. But fires, like secrets, don’t always follow instructions. Lena Blackwell didn’t scream when she saw the first flame lick across the velvet curtain behind the altar. She didn’t move either. Her candle had gone out minutes before, and in the dark, the flicker of fire looked almost holy.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZpbHevfJRJ
They were supposed to be praying. Eighteen girls, seated in two straight rows of pews like good little lambs, eyes closed, hands folded. Behind them stood Sister Eliza with her rosary clenched and her mouth stitched into a grim smile. The Friday Penitence Ritual. Another quiet punishment for sins too petty to name.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZYRtjIj6Ge
Lena hadn’t blinked since she saw the flame. It took exactly twenty-one seconds for the first girl to scream. Camilla. Always the first at everything; first to get her period, first to kiss a boy, first to notice when blood started dripping from the ceiling like tears. She screamed, stood, and that’s when panic bloomed like wildfire.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP9v88y8vIz
Literally. The fire leapt from curtain to pew like it had been waiting. Someone had soaked the wood. Not with holy water. The smoke hit next; thick, black, choking. It didn’t drift; it punched. Girls tripped over each other in a frenzy, veils flying, coughs turning to shrieks. The door was jammed. Padlocked from the outside. The fire alarms didn’t go off. Lena knew they wouldn’t.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVYFsKlC1vm
Sister Eliza had the key. Lena turned to look at her. The nun wasn’t trying to open the door. She wasn’t praying either. She was smiling. Not with joy. Not with fear. With satisfaction. Like she was watching something she had waited years for. Something she had planned. Lena watched four girls claw at the windows, their hands bloodied from broken glass. Someone was on fire; Lena couldn’t tell who. The body writhed near the altar, shrieking. Skin hissed. Eyes boiled. The air sizzled like it had been cursed. And then… quiet.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZF6mbIvGIe
The kind of silence that isn’t peaceful. The kind that is earned. Sister Eliza turned to Lena and walked through the smoke like a ghost. Her eyes, wild with reflected fire, met Lena’s, and she said something Lena would never forget; even if she tried. “A vow made in fire can never be broken. Say nothing, or burn with the rest.” And Lena nodded. That was the last sound she ever made.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI0YzFi5HJ1
Present day – nine years later34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr78raj9Jxi
Lena woke in the dark, gasping like she could still taste the smoke. The invitation lay on the nightstand. Thick card stock. Gold lettering.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrYZXNLrQ8q
“St. Amelia’s Academy Reunion — 10 Years Later”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZRsrRSkgpx
Location: The St. Amelia Memorial Inn34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbSSRjV0muf
Formerly: St. Amelia’s Chapel & School for Girls34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4NjztlWiBY
Someone had the audacity to turn the place into a luxury inn. Someone with no soul. Or maybe the same one who had started the fire. Lena stared at the bottom of the invitation. There was no return address. No contact info. Just a single line written in red ink that wasn’t printed.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAUmNGlun10
Handwritten. She ran her fingers over it, heart starting to hammer. “We remember who you are, Lena. Don’t forget what you promised.” She pressed her fingers to her throat. Silent for nine years. But what if silence wasn’t enough anymore? What if someone wanted her dead instead? And worse; What if she deserved it?34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhGt8auBIqo
The drive to the inn was so long and winding it felt like the road was trying to forget where it led. Fog rolled low across the asphalt, clinging to the tires like dead hands. Trees flanked the road, too close together, black-limbed and leafless despite the season. Lena hadn’t seen another car in over an hour. She could almost believe the place existed outside time now; neither then nor now, just always.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAUQFnTsj6q
When her GPS flatlined into “NO SIGNAL,” she didn’t panic. That felt intentional too. Everything did. At the gate, wrought iron rusted with age and memory, a single candle burned in a lantern hanging from the post. It was flickering before she even touched the door.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaWjHUPRuLG
The inn- St. Amelia’s Memorial Inn- was exactly as she remembered it. And exactly not. The front facade was whitewashed and pristine, with fake ivy crawling artfully across polished stone. New windows replaced the shattered ones, but Lena could still hear the screams lodged in the walls. The ones only she remembered. She parked and stepped out. The silence here was unnatural. Not quiet. Listening. The front door opened before she touched it.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡO3gWPuEuXN
“Miss Blackwell,” said a voice like soft rot. A woman stood in the doorway wearing a pencil skirt, red lipstick, and a smile that didn’t fit her face. “I’m Elin,” she said, holding out her hand. Lena didn’t take it. She couldn’t. Instead, she nodded and stepped inside, the air swallowing her whole. The lobby had been the chapel once. They had gutted the altar, paved over the burn marks. But she felt it under her feet, like bones under a shallow grave. Incense now replaced the smell of old smoke, but that just made the memory sharper. Like perfume on a corpse.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcTntkUG9aF
“Your room is ready,” Elin said, guiding her up the curved staircase that hadn’t existed before. “Only a few of you have arrived so far. We’re expecting six more by tonight. Should be a memorable weekend.”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRfMHoIcp4m
That word scratched something behind Lena’s eyes. Memorable. Wasn’t that the point? Room 306. A brass key. No card. How charming. Inside, the room was tastefully decorated in deep crimson and gold, but Lena’s attention snapped to the mirror above the bed. Not because of the antique frame, because someone had written a message across the glass in lipstick: “Not all of us burned.” She didn’t scream. She didn’t have the ability anymore. Instead, she walked to the window. From here, she could see the old garden, now landscaped and trimmed; but she remembered where the bodies were laid out in the snow before the ambulances came. Two of them had been girls she slept beside every night. One had been Camilla.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡevURnQT6m6
Her phone buzzed. No signal, but the screen lit up with a message. Unknown Number: “Did you keep your vow, Lena? Everyone else broke theirs.” Another buzz. “You’ll see soon. One by one.”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoQlERKY6zL
That night, someone banged on her door. Not knocked. Banged. Three hard hits. Then silence. When she opened it, no one was there. Just a single item on the floor. A charred rosary, still warm to the touch. Lena stepped back into her room, locked the door, and turned the mirror toward the wall. She knew how this worked. The fire never ended. It just waited.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIBxvAkjrcq
The dining hall had been rebuilt. Polished wood, soft lighting, wine glasses that rang too sharply in the stillness. But the layout hadn’t changed. The long table. The same old chandelier. Even the smell was wrong: rosemary and sage where there had once been blood and bleach. Lena sat at the far end of the table- silent, unblinking- as the survivors filtered in one by one.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHBsU5a4vZH
Mara Alden was the first. Now a successful influencer, she arrived in a storm of perfume and designer guilt. Her laugh was too loud, her hug too tight, and she didn’t mention the fire at all. “God, it’s so weird being back, right?” Mara said, taking a seat across from Lena. “I mean, this place is- like- fully gentrified trauma. I swear I almost had a panic attack in the garden.”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnsSRzgKfLu
Lena didn’t respond. Just nodded once, sharply. Tori Jennings was next. Quiet. Still hunched. She had a tremor in her hand now, and Lena noticed her flinch when a waiter passed too close. Tori’s eyes met hers for a fraction of a second before she looked away. Guilt, maybe. Or fear.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWy25ifzIVP
Harper Easton came in smiling. She hadn’t changed much. Same long, dark hair. Same predator’s gaze. She air-kissed Mara, rolled her eyes at Tori, and when she saw Lena- “Oh,” she said. “You’re still alive.” Lena just stared.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTjtwz9oKIR
“Didn’t think you’d show up, sweetheart. Or maybe you had to. Guilt’s a strong motivator, yeah?”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡONVfVzKov1
Mara tensed. Tori looked down. No one laughed. The fourth girl didn’t come in. Rowan Bell had RSVP’d. But her seat stayed empty. They were supposed to be 24. 5 arrived. 1 was missing. The other 18 had already been here for nine years. Buried.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVPbHILNVXG
Dinner was served like this was a celebration, not a summoning. Braised lamb. Red wine. Candied figs. The silverware gleamed like scalpels. “I keep dreaming about it,” Tori said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice cracked. “The fire. The chapel. I-I hear her voice sometimes. Eliza.”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAILqL17gvr
Mara rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Tor. Can we not? Just one night without dredging up the nightmare?”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhOzyx7pMwW
“No,” Tori whispered. “We’re here. That is the nightmare.”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL4w3pc6nLC
Lena watched them like a ghost observing the living. Her hand curled around the stem of her wine glass, knuckles pale. She wanted to say something. She wanted to scream it. But her voice was still locked behind that vow. Her therapist had called it selective mutism. But Lena knew better. It was a curse. A punishment. A promise.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv0lbKyoe4Z
“I don’t remember much,” Mara said. “I passed out before the worst of it. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if we- if we even remember it right.”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH1Vi7bHyAV
“No one remembers it right,” Harper said flatly, setting down her fork. “Memories lie. Especially when they’re burned.”34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9EkXIE9Ybo
Lena’s fingers twitched. She looked down. The tablecloth had a scorch mark near her plate. She knew it hadn’t been there when she sat down. No one else seemed to notice. Then a scream. High. Sharp. From down the hall. The dining room froze. Mara stood up so fast her chair toppled. “What the hell-” Harper was already moving. Tori followed like a shadow. Lena stayed seated. She already knew what they’d find. Someone had broken the vow. And now someone was dead.34Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡliuKrbwA4Y
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