Page 7 of Where the Dark Knelt (Worshipped by Darkness #1)

It was strange how dark it was already, only six in the evening and yet it felt like late night.

Spring wasn’t supposed to be like this. The weather here felt off, like time itself didn’t work right in these stone walls.

I wondered silently if the sun ever shone here or if I’d slowly lose my mind in endless shadow.

The sisters continued setting the table, bustling around me without noticing my presence. But when they finally settled into their seats, all attention shifted to me at once. Curious eyes. Whispers. Who is this new girl? Is she staying with us? Their unspoken questions hovered in the candlelit air.

I counted them quickly — twelve nuns, plus me. Thirteen at the table.

An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. Thirteen. I almost laughed bitterly to myself. Wasn’t that supposed to be some cursed number? Did it mean this place would now be haunted by some paranormal beings? Or maybe… it already was.

My chaotic thoughts were interrupted by Eata’s voice, gentle yet commanding, echoing lightly through the candlelit dining hall.

“Thank you all for preparing dinner, my dear sisters.” Her gaze swept lovingly across the women before settling back on me.

“I would like to introduce you to our new girl, who has just embarked on the path of monasticism. She is here to find herself again, to heal, and perhaps decide for herself whether she will become a full-fledged part of our sisterhood in a couple of years.”

I nodded slightly, forcing a small smile to appear calm and polite.

“Welcome your new sister, Eveline,” she continued warmly. “She’s twenty-one, very young, but wise beyond her years. Soon she will begin learning about the monastery and our way of life, studies, prayers, and of course God Himself. But for now, let her eat and rest after her long journey.”

The sisters turned to me one after another, nodding silently with small smiles. No words, no prying questions, just acceptance. In their quiet presence, something deep inside me loosened, as if I could finally unclench my spirit.

“And now,” Eata said, folding her hands gracefully, “let us begin our dinner, my dears.”

She closed her eyes, and everyone followed suit. “We thank the Almighty for His fruits and for allowing us to enjoy such a wonderful dinner today. Amen.”

“Amen,” they all echoed in perfect unison, their voices low and calm. I hurried to mimic them, folding my palms together near my chest and nodding, feeling awkward but relieved no one seemed to notice my delayed response.

The table was simple but abundant: golden-brown fried chicken coated in unfamiliar but delicious spices; boiled young potatoes still in their thin skins; fresh green herbs; and jars of preserved vegetables — crisp cucumbers, bright tomatoes, glossy mushrooms, and sweet corn.

At the center was a large bowl of vegetable salad sprinkled with delicate feta cheese.

Beside each plate stood a steaming cup of hot green tea, its scent sharp and sweet, infused with leaves from local raspberry bushes.

I dug in almost immediately, ignoring how ungraceful I must have looked.

My portion disappeared in the blink of an eye.

I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days, nothing warm, nothing cooked, nothing comforting.

Now, with each bite, warmth spread through my chest and down to my fingertips, easing the dull ache of hunger and exhaustion.

It was so simple, so ordinary, and yet it felt like the most delicious meal of my entire life.

For a moment, I almost felt safe.

When I returned to my bedroom, I noticed for the first time that my neighbor across the narrow corridor was one of the sisters.

Apparently, only the two of us lived in this wing; the rest were housed elsewhere.

The hallway was silent except for the soft shuffle of her slippers against the stone floor.

I followed behind her, still unsure of my way around this place.

Candles flickered along the walls, casting long trembling shadows that reached up to the high ceiling beams. Outside the tall windows, the last remnants of daylight filtered in, dim and gray with approaching evening.

My eyelids felt heavy, but when we finally reached the end of the long corridor, she turned to face me with a gentle smile and bowed slightly.

“It seems we’re neighbors, Eveline.”

She straightened up, and I studied her face in the wavering candlelight. She looked about my age, maybe a little older, or maybe she just carried herself with a quiet maturity that made her seem timeless.

“I’m Astra,” she said softly.

I bowed to her in return. “Nice to meet you, Astra. That’s such a beautiful name… I’m glad we’ll be neighbors.” I attempted a tired smile, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry I’m so quiet… I’m just very tired. Everything is so… overwhelming and new, and I…”

Before I could finish rambling, she stepped closer and stroked my arm from shoulder to elbow. The touch was so gentle, so unexpected, so full of calm understanding that my chest tightened. No one had touched me like that in years. Maybe… no one ever had, not like that.

“Don’t think too much about it,” she said, her voice low and kind.

“You’ll have plenty of time to adjust. Just try to rest for now.

It’ll all come with time. I’ve been here for six years, and even now, I’m still getting used to some things.

” She chuckled quietly, and her dark eyes glimmered with a familiar tiredness. “It’s normal.”

Her words wrapped around me like a blanket, easing the coil of anxious energy in my stomach. “Yes… this is definitely something extraordinarily new for me. But I hope… I really hope everything will get better.”

Astra grinned and stepped back towards her door. “Well, it’s definitely going to get better now, neighbor.”

She reached for her handle, pausing to glance back at me with a teasing smile. “I hope you’re not a snorer.”

I let out a small laugh despite my exhaustion. “No one’s ever complained… so I hope not.”

“I just have a very light sleep,” she explained with a sheepish shrug. “That’s why I asked to stay in this wing where there’s hardly anyone else.”

“I understand… but I’ll do my best not to disturb you.”

“I hope so too.” Her smile widened as she pushed open her door, disappearing into the darkness of her room with a quiet, “Goodnight, Eveline.”

“Goodnight,” I whispered back.

I opened the door to my room and slipped inside.

The pale blue dusk pressed against the window, the candle on my bedside table untouched.

I didn’t bother lighting it. I didn’t even think about opening my diary to write down the day’s chaos, though I probably should have.

I just dropped onto the narrow bed, curling onto my side, inhaling the faint scent of lavender soap that lingered on the sheets.

Within minutes, exhaustion dragged me under, and for the first time in what felt like forever, sleep came without a fight.