The walls were closing in. The door was locked. Elira could feel her pulse thundering in her ears as she struggled against the cold, skeletal hands that held her down. They pulled her further into the abyss, their grip strong and relentless.
"No!" she screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the darkness. The shadows pressed in on all sides, suffocating her.
The room around her seemed to shift. She wasn't in the hallway anymore. She wasn't anywhere familiar. Everything was wrong.
And then, she saw them.
The children.
The ones who had been hung in the chapel. They were here, in the shadows, their eyes wide open, their mouths still sewn shut, their bodies twisted in unnatural positions. They watched her, but said nothing.
Sister Helena appeared, stepping out from the shadows, her face a mask of cold serenity. She held a knife in her hands, gleaming under the dim light.
"Elira," she whispered, her voice a hollow echo, "You were never meant to escape."
Elira struggled, but the hands that held her were unyielding. She was trapped, surrounded by the very thing she had tried to run from.
Helena stepped closer, her cold fingers brushing against Elira's cheek. "This is where you belong. This is your fate."
The knife gleamed as it moved closer to Elira's throat.
But then, something unexpected happened.
The ghost of Nina appeared once more. Her face was now clear, her eyes wide with urgency. She reached out to Elira, her lips moving as if to say something—though no sound came from her mouth.
The walls trembled, the ground beneath them cracked.
A loud, echoing crack filled the room, followed by a scream that reverberated through the very foundation of the panti. It was the voice of the entity that had been pulling the strings all along. The one they had all been offering sacrifices to.
Sister Helena froze.
The children watched in silence, as if waiting for the inevitable.
And then, everything went dark.
When Elira awoke, she was no longer in the panti.
Her body was cold. Her skin, pale. But she was... free. Her eyes opened to a quiet, still room. There were no shadows, no whispers.
But the silence was deafening.
Elira's body was found days later, in the middle of the forest. There were no signs of struggle, no marks on her skin. It was as if she had simply disappeared into the night.
And in the panti, the whispers returned.
The children dreamt of a girl—her voice soft, just above a whisper.
"Don't let her see you…"