The old iron gates groaned open. It was a sound that bit into the stillness of the late afternoon as Milena approached the imposing structure.
It wasn't merely large. It radiated a sense of cold authority. A silent declaration of its own importance. The hair on her arms prickled.
This was supposed to be a school, St. Michael's Academy. Yet it resembled something closer to a fortress. Grey stone walls rose three stories high, punctuated by narrow windows. They seemed more like watchful eyes than openings for light.
She had driven for hours. The winding roads of the countryside took her further and further from anything resembling civilization.
Montenegro, her homeland, felt a world away now. This unsettling English landscape replaced it. Even the trees seemed to lean in, observing her with suspicion.
Milena had come because of the letters. Frantic, almost illegible pleas from her younger sister, Sofia.
Sofia, who had been so excited to attend this prestigious boarding school, now wrote of shadows. Whispers in the night, and of children disappearing.
Milena pulled her small rental car to a stop at the foot of a long, gravel driveway.
The silence here was profound. It was broken only by the crunch of her shoes on the stones as she walked towards the main building.
There were no sounds of children playing. No distant shouts or laughter – just a heavy, expectant quiet. It felt heavier with each step she took.
The front doors were immense. Made of dark, varnished wood. Carvings of saints adorned them, appearing less benevolent and more judgmental in the fading light.
Hesitantly, she reached for the heavy brass knocker. It was shaped like a grotesque gargoyle. Its cold metal sent a shiver up her spine.
Three sharp raps echoed in the stillness. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a sound reached her ears. Faint but distinct, the dragging sound of footsteps from within, slow and deliberate.
The door creaked inward. It revealed a tall, thin woman. Her eyes were as sharp and cold as shards of ice. Her grey hair was pulled back tightly in a bun. It emphasized the severe lines of her face.
She wore a dark, high-necked dress. It seemed to absorb the light, making her appear almost spectral against the dim interior.
"May I assist you?" the woman's voice was low. Devoid of warmth, each word clipped and precise.
"I'm looking for Sofia Petrović," Milena stated. She tried to keep her voice steady despite the woman's unsettling presence. "She's a student here."
A flicker crossed the woman's face. Something unreadable, before it smoothed back into an expressionless mask. "Sofia Petrović? I will check."
She turned and disappeared into the shadows of the hallway. Milena stood on the threshold.
Minutes stretched. Each one amplified the sense of unease that had settled over Milena since she first saw the school.
The hallway beyond the doorway was dimly lit. Long and cavernous, with dark wooden panels lining the walls. Portraits of stern-faced men and women stared down from their frames.
The air inside felt colder, damper than outside. It carried a faint, musty odor that reminded her of old cellars and forgotten places.
The woman returned, her expression unchanged. "There appears to be no student by that name currently enrolled at St. Michael's."
Milena felt a jolt of panic. "That's impossible. She's definitely here. I have letters from her, sent from this school." She reached into her bag.
Pulling out the crumpled envelopes, their addresses clearly bearing the school's name. She extended them to the woman.
The woman took the letters. Her gaze scanned them quickly, dismissively. "These are… old. Perhaps she was here previously. Our records indicate no current student with that name."
"Old? They're only weeks old," Milena protested. Her voice rising in alarm. "Look at the dates. Something is wrong. I need to see her."
The woman's icy gaze intensified. "I assure you, there is no mistake. If your sister was once here, she is not now. Perhaps she transferred? You should check with the administration office, though they are closed for the day."
She began to close the door.
"Wait!" Milena stepped forward. Preventing the door from shutting completely. "Please, just let me look around. I need to be sure."
Desperation was creeping into her voice now. A raw edge of fear.
The woman paused, her eyes narrowing. "This is a school. We cannot allow unauthorized visitors to wander freely. It is against regulations."
"Regulations?" Milena scoffed. Disbelief and anger warring within her. "My sister might be in trouble. This is more important than your regulations."
She pushed gently against the door. Forcing it open a little wider. "I'm just going to have a quick look in the main hall. If she's not there, I'll leave."
The woman sighed. A sound that conveyed more annoyance than concern. "Very well. But I will accompany you. And you will be brief."
She stepped back. Allowing Milena to enter.
The main hall was vast and echoing. Its high ceiling lost in shadow. Dust motes danced in the meager light filtering through the tall windows.
The walls here were adorned with trophies and plaques. They celebrated past achievements, yet they felt strangely lifeless. Devoid of any real joy or pride.
There was a chill in the hall. A damp cold that seemed to seep from the very stones themselves.
"Sofia!" Milena called out. Her voice echoing unnaturally in the cavernous space. Silence answered her.
She moved further into the hall. Glancing around, her heart pounding against her ribs. There were doors leading off the hall. Presumably to classrooms or offices, all closed and silent.
"Sofia!" she called again. Louder this time, her voice laced with increasing anxiety.
The woman remained impassive. Watching her with those cold, assessing eyes. "As I said, she is not here."
Milena ignored her. Moving towards one of the doors. She tried the handle, but it was locked. She tried another, and another – all locked.
A growing sense of dread was taking hold. A cold knot tightening in her stomach.
"Where are the children?" Milena turned to the woman. Her question sharp, demanding. "It's late afternoon. Shouldn't there be students around?"
"They are… occupied," the woman replied. Her voice even, unrevealing. "It is study time, or extracurricular engagements."
"Engagements?" Milena repeated. Her disbelief growing. "At this hour? And not a single sound? It's like this place is deserted."
Suddenly, from somewhere deep within the building, a faint sound reached them. A soft, rhythmic chanting, like voices murmuring in unison.
It was low, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there. Adding another layer of unease to the already oppressive atmosphere.
Milena stopped. Listening intently, her brow furrowed. "What is that?"
The woman's expression remained placid. "It is… choir practice. The senior girls' choir."
"Choir practice?" Milena found herself questioning everything the woman said. The chanting sounded strange, unsettling. Not like any choir practice she had ever heard.
It lacked melody, rhythm, any sense of joy or harmony. It was more like a litany. A droning, monotonous sound that seemed to vibrate in the very air.
"I want to see them," Milena stated. Her voice firm now, her fear hardening into resolve. "I want to see this choir practice."
The woman hesitated for a fraction of a second. A barely perceptible flicker of something in her eyes. Annoyance, perhaps, or something darker.
"That is not possible. It is a closed practice. Students are not to be disturbed."
"I am not a student," Milena retorted. Stepping closer to the woman, her gaze locking with hers. "I am a concerned sister. And I will not leave until I am sure my sister is safe. Take me to this choir practice."
The woman remained silent for a long moment. Her eyes unwavering, locked in a silent battle of wills with Milena. Finally, with a sigh that seemed forced, she relented. "Very well. But you will remain quiet. And you will leave immediately afterwards."
She turned and walked down the hallway. Her footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor. Milena followed, her senses on high alert. Every nerve in her body screaming that something was terribly wrong.
The chanting grew slightly louder as they moved deeper into the building. Its monotonous rhythm became more distinct, more unsettling.
They reached a heavy wooden door at the end of a side corridor. The woman paused, turning to Milena. "Remember, quiet. And brief." She pushed open the door and stepped aside. Allowing Milena to enter.
The room beyond was dimly lit by flickering candles. Casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. It was a large room, like a chapel. With high vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows.
The glass was so dark and grimy it let in little light. And there, in rows, facing away from the door, were children. Dozens of them, maybe fifty or more. All girls, all dressed in identical grey uniforms.
They were swaying slightly as they chanted. Their voices low and toneless, the words indistinguishable.
Milena stepped further into the room. Her eyes scanning the rows of children. Searching for a familiar face. Their heads were bowed. Their hair obscuring their features.
The chanting continued. A hypnotic, droning sound that seemed to fill the very air. Making her head spin slightly.
She walked slowly between the rows. Peering at each child, her heart pounding with each step. They looked pale, gaunt. Their faces devoid of any expression, any spark of life.
"Sofia?" Milena whispered. Her voice barely audible above the chanting. She reached out, gently touching the shoulder of a girl in the nearest row.
The girl flinched. Her head snapping up, revealing a face that was far too old for a child. Eyes hollow and vacant, skin stretched thin over bone.
She stared at Milena for a moment. Then turned back, resuming the monotonous chant as if Milena were not even there.
Milena recoiled. A wave of revulsion washing over her. These were not children. Not really. They were like… shells. Empty vessels.
She moved to the next girl, and the next. Each face the same – pale, gaunt, lifeless, eyes vacant. All chanting, swaying, lost in some unseen world.
Panic clawed at her throat. Sofia was not here. These were not children. Where were the real children? And what was this chanting? What was this place?
She spun around. Looking for the woman, but she was gone. The door was closed. Milena was alone in the room with these… things.
The chanting intensified. The sound seeming to press in on her from all sides. Suffocating her. She felt a prickling sensation on her skin. A sense of being watched.
Not by the vacant eyes of the chanting girls, but by something else. Something unseen, something malevolent.
Suddenly, the chanting stopped. Silence descended. Heavy and absolute, broken only by Milena's ragged breathing. The girls remained still. Their heads bowed, their bodies frozen.
The candlelight flickered. Casting grotesque shadows that danced and writhed on the walls.
Then, from the far end of the room, a new sound arose. A slow, dragging sound. Like something heavy being pulled across the floor.
It was coming from behind a heavy curtain. It hung at the back of the room, obscuring something from view. The sound grew louder, closer. Each drag sending a fresh jolt of terror through Milena.
The curtain parted, slowly, dramatically. It revealed a figure that made Milena's blood run cold. It was an old woman. Impossibly old, her face a roadmap of wrinkles. Her eyes milky white and sightless.
Her body was hunched and twisted. Supported by a gnarled, wooden staff. She wore a long, black robe. It draped around her like a shroud.
Around her neck, a necklace. It was made of what looked like… teeth. Children's teeth.
The old woman smiled. A slow, horrifying grimace that stretched her lips into a grotesque parody of human expression. Her mouth was filled with yellowed, pointed teeth.
Her breath, when she spoke, was like the stench of decay.
"Welcome," she croaked. Her voice raspy and ancient, like stones grinding together. "We have been expecting you."
Milena stood frozen. Unable to speak, unable to move. Her mind reeling in disbelief and horror. This was a nightmare. This could not be real.
"You are looking for your sister, yes?" the old woman continued. Her sightless eyes seeming to fix directly on Milena. "Sofia. A sweet child. We… appreciated her."
A wave of nausea washed over Milena. A cold, sickening understanding dawning in her mind. "Appreciated?" she managed to whisper. Her voice trembling.
The old woman chuckled. A dry, rattling sound. "Yes. Such… vibrancy. Such… life force. It is… sustaining." She gestured to the rows of vacant-eyed girls.
"These… husks… they provide little now. But the new ones… they are always so… fresh."
Milena's stomach lurched. She understood now. The school. The disappearances. The chanting. The old woman.
It all clicked into place with sickening clarity. This was not a school. It was a slaughterhouse. A feeding ground. And the children… they were not students. They were… food.
"Where is she?" Milena choked out. Her voice hoarse with terror and grief. "Where is Sofia?"
The old woman smiled again. That horrible, toothy grin. "Sofia is… here." She tapped her chest. Right over her heart. "She is… within me now. Her essence… nourishes me. Keeps me… strong."
Tears streamed down Milena's face. Hot and stinging against her cold skin. Her sister. Eaten. Consumed by this… this creature.
The horror was too much to bear. Too vast, too cruel.
"No…" Milena whispered. Shaking her head, denial battling with the crushing reality. "No, it's not true. You're lying."
The old woman sighed. A long, weary sound. "Child, I have no need to lie. You came seeking truth. And I have shown it to you."
She gestured again to the girls. "These are the remnants. The echoes. They remain… useful. But the true sustenance… comes from the taking of the life force itself. And your sister… she was especially… delectable."
Milena screamed. A raw, animalistic sound of anguish and despair. She lunged forward. Driven by a blind rage, a desperate need to lash out. To hurt, to destroy.
She grabbed a heavy candlestick from a nearby table. Its brass cold and hard in her trembling hand. She raised it high. Intending to bring it down on the old woman's skull. To smash that grotesque smile, to avenge her sister.
But before she could strike, something grabbed her. Strong, cold hands seizing her arms. Pulling her back. She struggled. Twisting, fighting, but the grip was too tight. Too powerful.
She was dragged backwards. Away from the old woman, towards the rows of vacant-eyed girls.
The girls stirred. Their heads lifting, their vacant eyes fixing on Milena. They moved as one. Rising from their rows, shuffling forward. Their movements slow, deliberate, like puppets on invisible strings.
They surrounded her. Their pale, gaunt faces inches from hers. Their breath cold and stale against her skin. They began to chant again. The monotonous drone rising in volume. Filling her ears, drowning out her screams.
Milena struggled. Kicking, biting, clawing, but it was no use. She was trapped. Surrounded by these empty shells. These remnants of stolen lives.
She looked back at the old woman. Her eyes pleading, begging for mercy. For understanding, for anything.
The old woman watched her. Her milky eyes unreadable. Her grotesque smile unchanged. She raised her hand. Her gnarled fingers extending, and pointed at Milena.
"Another," she croaked. Her voice filled with a chilling satisfaction. "A fresh one. Always… welcome."
The girls closed in. Their cold hands reaching for her. Their vacant eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight.
In their depths, Milena saw not malice, not hatred. Something far more terrifying – emptiness. A void. A hunger that could never be satisfied.
As their hands touched her, cold and clammy against her skin, Milena knew. She too, would become one of them. Another husk. Another echo. Another soul consumed by the darkness of St. Michael's Academy.
Her sister was gone. Now, she would join her. Not in peace, but in oblivion. Consumed by the insatiable hunger of a witch and her monstrous school. Leaving Montenegro, her homeland, and any hope of rescue, infinitely far behind.