Chapter 2 The Silent Baby

The rain continued its slow, steady drumming against the roof of the witch's cottage. Inside, the dim candlelight flickered, casting long, twisting shadows against the wooden walls. The girl sat motionless on the cold floor, her heart pounding as she stared at the baby wrapped in thin, tattered blankets.

It hadn't cried. Not once.

She had seen babies before-small, wrinkled, always making noise. But this one was different. It was unnaturally still, its breathing so soft she had to lean closer just to make sure it was alive.

The witch's voice broke the silence.

"You will care for the child," she said, her voice low and sharp.

The girl looked up at her captor. "Why?"

The witch's dark eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Because that is your purpose."

The girl shook her head. "I don't understand."

The witch stepped forward, and the girl shrank back, clutching the baby protectively. But the witch didn't touch her. Instead, she crouched low, until they were face to face.

"You are young," the witch said softly. "Your mind is full of questions. But you must learn this now: some questions are dangerous."

The girl swallowed, her fingers tightening around the baby's blanket.

The witch straightened. "Eighteen days," she murmured, as if speaking more to herself than to the girl. Then, without another word, she turned and disappeared through the heavy wooden door, leaving them alone in the candlelit gloom.

The girl waited, listening to the sound of the rain outside, making sure the witch was truly gone. When she was certain they were alone, she turned her attention back to the baby.

She hesitated. Then, carefully, she reached out and pulled the edge of the blanket away from the baby's face.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The baby's eyes were open.

But they weren't the eyes of a newborn.

They were ancient-dark and knowing, filled with something far older than the tiny body they belonged to. The girl felt her skin prickle.

And then, finally, the baby made a sound.

A small, breathy sigh. Almost like a whisper.

The girl shuddered.

Something was very wrong.

She pulled the blanket back over the baby's face, as if hiding it would make the eerie feeling disappear. She didn't know what to do. There was no one to help her. No way to leave.

And she didn't even know why she was here.

She hugged her knees to her chest, her small body trembling. How long had she been in this place? It felt like she had just woken up here, with no memory of how she had arrived. The only thing she knew was what the witch had said:

She wouldn't leave until she was eighteen days old.

But that didn't make sense. She was already older than that. Wasn't she?

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She had to get out.

The witch had left. Maybe the door was unlocked.

Heart pounding, she set the baby down gently on the floor and tiptoed across the room. The old wooden planks creaked beneath her feet, but she forced herself to move forward.

She reached the door and pressed her small hands against it.

Locked.

Her chest tightened.

She tried again, jiggling the iron handle, pushing with all her might, but it wouldn't budge. Frustrated, she turned to look around the cottage. There had to be another way out. A window, maybe-

She froze.

The baby was staring at her.

Wide-eyed. Silent.

And then-

The candle flickered wildly, as if something unseen had exhaled against the flame.

The girl's breath hitched.

Something was watching.

She could feel it. A presence in the room. Not just the baby. Not just her. Something else.

The shadows stretched unnaturally long across the floor. The darkness in the corners of the room seemed deeper, almost alive.

Then-

A whisper.

Not from the baby.

Not from her own lips.

From the walls.

A low, breathy sound, like a voice just beyond hearing.

She backed away, pressing herself against the door, her heart thudding wildly.

And then, just as suddenly as it came, the whispering stopped.

The room fell silent again.

The girl gasped for air, realizing she had been holding her breath.

The baby blinked at her.

It was still silent.

Still watching.

The girl swallowed hard. Whatever was happening in this place, whatever the witch was waiting for-it had already begun.

And she wasn't sure she would survive eighteen days to find out why.