Chapter 3 The Covent

St. Mary's was a rundown stone building on the edge of town. Its stained-glass windows were dark, and the parking lot was empty. Aria parked, the journal warm in her hands as if it had a life of its own. She stepped out; the rain had turned to a drizzle. She walked to the front door, which creaked open since it was unlocked.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of incense and old wood. The pews were empty, and the altar was dimly lit by a single candle. A figure emerged from the shadows: an elderly nun. Her habit was frayed, her face was lined with age, but her eyes sparkled. "Aria," she said with a smile. "I've been waiting."

Aria froze. "You know me?"

"Your mother, Clara, was my dearest friend. I'm Sister Agnes." She pointed to a wooden bench near the altar. "Sit down. You must have questions."

Aria sat, the journal resting on her lap. "What's the Veiled One? Why is Ethan involved? What's happening to me?"

Sister Agnes sighed and sat next to her. The bench was cold, but Aria barely noticed. "Your mother was a Keeper, a guardian of the veil between life and other realms. The Veiled One is a spirit trapped there, longing for a body to possess. It has been trying to break through for decades."

"Possess? Like ghosts?" Aria asked.

"Not quite. The Veiled One is connected to a tragedy. In 1897, a young woman named Eleanor was wronged by a man she loved. His name was Henry Cole-Ethan's great-great-grandfather."

Aria's head snapped up. Cole?

Sister Agnes nodded. "Ethan is a descendant of the man who wronged Eleanor. The Veiled One has been using him, twisting his love for you into a weapon. It wants a body with Keeper blood-yours."

Aria's eyes filled with tears. "He testified against me. He said I killed a patient."

"Because the Veiled One made him do it. It feeds on pain, yours and his. It thrives on chaos. Your mother tried to stop it. She was a powerful Keeper, but the Veiled One's influence was too strong. They made it look like a suicide, but she was murdered. By the same group that's after you now."

Aria's mind spun. Mom... murdered?

Sister Agnes stood up and led Aria to a dusty trunk in the corner of the church. "Your mother left this for you. It'll help."

Inside the trunk was a silver locket, just like the one in Aria's memories. She opened it, and a photo fell out: Aria and Ethan, age 8, smiling on a swing set with dirt on their faces. On the back, in her mother's handwriting, it read: "The heart sees what the mind forgets. – C"

Aria's hands trembled. "We were... friends before?"

"Childhood sweethearts," Sister Agnes said softly. "You two were inseparable. You once saved him from a big, mean dog. You stood between him and that dog, even though you were terrified. He gave you his lucky marble and promised, 'Friends forever, Ethan.'" She smiled. "You don't remember?"

Aria shook her head. "I only remember the trial. The betrayal. The way he looked at me like I was a stranger."

She got in the car