The hall was silent. Or at least, it pretended to be.
I slipped out of my bed, careful not to wake anyone. Aria followed, like a shadow glued to mine.
"Where are we going?" I whispered.
"To see," she said simply. "To know."
The orphanage felt different at night. The same walls, the same floors, but… thinner. Like they were listening. Like they could hear our every heartbeat.
We passed the dining hall. Empty plates glinted in the moonlight.
Then, we saw her.
A girl, younger than me, crouched by the chapel door. She was new. Her hair tangled. Her eyes wide with fear.
"She's next," Aria whispered.
I froze. The words echoed the note from before.
"Next?" I breathed.
Aria's hand squeezed mine. "We need to warn her. But carefully. One wrong move…"
I nodded, but fear had already paralyzed me.
We crept closer. The girl's lips moved silently. A prayer? A plea?
Suddenly, footsteps approached.
Father Michael.
He didn't see us — not yet. But I could feel his presence like a weight in the air. Slow. Calculated. Dangerous.
Aria pulled me behind a pillar.
"Stay very still."
He paused near the chapel door, eyes scanning. Then he whispered something I couldn't hear.
The girl jumped. He reached out, not touching her, but claiming space.
Aria's voice was low in my ear. "He's testing her. And us. That's how the system works. They separate the weak from the strong."
I shivered. "Why me?"
"Because," she said, her tone unreadable, "they already know you're special."
After he left, we approached the girl.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She nodded but didn't speak. Aria crouched beside her, whispering instructions.
"Hide. Obey. Don't trust anyone outside this room. Understand?"
The girl nodded again. She looked like she wanted to cry. I wanted to cry too.
Aria's eyes met mine. "This is bigger than any of us. You wanted to know the truth… now you have to survive it."
Back in our room, I pressed myself to the wall, trying to calm my racing heart.
"I can't keep doing this," I said finally.
"Yes, you can," Aria said, her voice soft but iron-strong. "Because you don't have a choice. Not anymore."
I thought about the girl. About Miriam. About the paper.
You are next.
The footsteps in the hall returned. Slow. Soft. Measuring each second of my life.
Then a whisper floated through the cracks under the door:
Taya… watch closely.
The system wasn't just rules, notes, or threats.
It was alive.
It watched. It tested. It chose.
And I was in its crosshairs.