The village below was silent. Snow fell in soundless sheets, burying what little life still clung to it.

You stood in the cathedral tower — barefoot, in linen, breath misting in the cold. But you weren’t shivering. Not anymore.

She stood behind you. You didn’t have to turn.

Mother Miranda’s presence was like gravity. Inevitable. Crushing.

“You dream louder than most,” she said softly, her voice a feather in your ear.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. She already knew your thoughts before you did.

“They screamed, the others,” she went on. “All of them. The girls. The failures. But you... you sing in silence.”

You finally turned.

Her veil was down tonight. Gold eyes glowed softly in the dim light. They always unsettled you — not because they were monstrous, but because they weren’t. They were human. Once.