The rain had stopped, but the sky remained an ominous shade of gray. Moonella sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of her bedroom, surrounded by scattered notes and open books. A corkboard hung on the wall above her desk—messy, chaotic, and obsessively arranged. At the center of it all was a faded photo of Elira, her innocent smile forever frozen in time. Red string connected her image to newspaper clippings, pins on maps, and printouts from obscure forums.
She stared at the board like it held the answer to everything. Maybe it did. Maybe she just hadn't connected the right dots yet.
Her laptop buzzed softly, a new tab open with a local blog post titled, "A Sanctuary for the Forgotten: New Orphanage Opens in Northern District."
Moonella narrowed her eyes. The building in the photo looked eerily familiar—tall, iron gates, Gothic-style windows, and a lone bell tower that seemed to watch from above like a silent sentinel.
She reached for her phone.
There was only one person she trusted with this.
Scrolling down to "Alexa," she hesitated for a moment, then hit the call button.
One ring. Two.
"Yo! Morning, detective," Alexa's cheerful voice came through the speaker. "Didn't expect you to call this early. Burned another theory?"
Moonella smiled faintly. "Hey, Lex. I need a favor."
"About Elira again?"
"Yeah."
There was a pause on the other end, followed by the sound of rustling—Alexa probably sitting upright now.
"What's up?"
"I think I know where Sister Helena went."
Alexa was silent for a second, then let out a low whistle. "That's a big claim. You got receipts?"
"There's a newly opened orphanage up north," Moonella said, turning her laptop toward her for the fifth time that morning. "It was founded just a few months after the old place was shut down. No official name linked to Helena, but the design… the structure is almost identical. And get this—the founder is listed as 'Mother Althea.'"
"Althea?" Alexa repeated. "That sounds... fake."
"Exactly."
Moonella stood and walked toward her window. The sky outside looked like it hadn't smiled in days. Trees stood bare, their branches twitching in the wind like bony fingers.
"I need you to go there," she said.
"Wait, what? Me?"
"I can't leave the house right now. I'm still under the radar, and if Helena is really hiding there, she'll recognize me. But you—you're just a traveler. A visitor. You can walk in and out without raising suspicion."
Alexa didn't answer immediately. Moonella knew her well enough to picture her biting her lower lip, probably pacing around her apartment.
"What am I supposed to do?" Alexa asked eventually. "Just walk in and say I want to adopt a kid?"
"No," Moonella said firmly. "Just observe. Get photos if you can. Look for anything odd. Rooms that are always locked, strange noises, security cameras pointing the wrong way—anything."
"You think she's still doing it? The rituals?"
Moonella glanced back at Elira's photo. "I don't think she ever stopped."
Another long pause. Then a sigh.
"Fine. I'll go."
Moonella felt a weight lift from her chest. "Thank you, Lex. I'll send you the address and coordinates tonight. Go tomorrow morning. I'll guide you by phone if needed."
"Got it. I'll pack light. If I don't make it back, write a bestseller about me."
"Don't joke like that."
"Sorry."
Moonella hung up and sat back down, letting her eyes rest on the board again. The strings trembled slightly as the wind passed through a small crack in the window.
Elira's face seemed to stare at her more intently now, as if begging her to hurry.
Later That Night
The rain had returned by evening. Moonella sat in her dimly lit room, fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. She compiled every piece of information she had—GPS coordinates, screenshots from the blog, maps of the surrounding area, even weather forecasts.
She encrypted the file and sent it to Alexa along with a single message:
"Be careful. If anything feels wrong—leave."
She stared at the message for a long time after hitting send.
Her chest felt heavy. Not with fear, but responsibility.
Elira's spirit wasn't at rest. Moonella had felt it ever since she read the girl's story—no, since she heard her name whispered in her sleep.
There were nights Moonella would wake up gasping, feeling cold hands brushing her shoulder, a child's sobbing voice whispering, "She's still out there..."
Now, Moonella was sure.
This wasn't over.
The Next Morning
Moonella hadn't slept much. She sat hunched over her desk with a headset on, phone in one hand, her other scrolling satellite images and live feeds she'd hacked from nearby traffic cams.
Her phone buzzed.
Alexa.
"I'm here," she whispered. "This place gives me the creeps already."
Moonella's heart jumped. "Describe it."
"Gray building. Iron gates. Dead garden. There's a bell tower, just like you said. A few kids playing outside but... they're quiet. Too quiet."
Moonella typed furiously. "Do you see any staff?"
"One woman standing by the door. Dressed in white. Face covered with a veil."
Moonella's breath caught.
Helena.
"That's her," she murmured. "That has to be her."
"I'll try to get closer," Alexa said, and the sound of crunching gravel followed.
"No, Lex. Don't get too close. Just take the photos and go."
There was silence for a few seconds. Then a soft click—camera shutter.
Moonella leaned forward.
"You okay?"
But there was no answer.
"Alexa?"
More silence.
Her heart pounded as the seconds stretched.
Then finally—"Sorry," Alexa whispered. "She looked straight at me. I mean straight at me, Moon. Like she knew I was coming."
Moonella felt her stomach twist.
"She doesn't know you. You're a stranger. Just keep walking."
"I'm leaving," Alexa said quickly. "I'll call you once I'm out of sight."
The line went dead.
Moonella stared at the phone, her breath shallow.
She felt it again—that cold breeze brushing her shoulder, and the whisper...
"She knows."