2:20 PM, The Office of Sister Maria, Mother Superior

Rose's fingers trailed over the leather-bound spines of the ancient tomes she had just retrieved from the cellar. The musty scent of old parchment clung to her habit, a comforting smell that usually brought her peace. But today, her mind was far from tranquil. Father Barnard's investigation had concluded, allowing her back into the Reliquary, but the mysteries surrounding recent events still gnawed at her conscience.

The soft padding of footsteps drew her attention. Sister Judith approached, her brow furrowed with concern. "Rose, the Mother Superior wants to see you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rose's heart skipped a beat. "Did she say why?"

Judith shook her head. "No, but she seemed... troubled."

As they made their way through the convent's cool, stone corridors, Rose's mind raced. Had Father Barnard discovered something? Or worse, had there been another incident?

The familiar wooden door of the Mother Superior's office loomed before them. Sister Beatrix stood guard, her perpetual frown deepening as she saw Rose. "Go in," she said curtly, "they're waiting for you."

Rose's confusion grew. They? She stepped into the office, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. To her surprise, she found herself ushered not into the office proper, but towards the visitor's parlour. The Mother Superior stood there, along with Father Barnard. Their faces were inscrutable masks, revealing nothing of what was to come.

Once Rose had made her customary obeisance, the Mother Superior wordlessly unlocked the door separating the outer and inner parlours. The hinges groaned, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

In the inner parlour, Rose was met with an unexpected sight. The Sheriff paced back and forth like a caged animal, his boots scuffing against the floor with each turn. One of his sergeants stood stoically by the outer door, his presence a silent reminder of the gravity of the situation.

The Sheriff barely acknowledged the Mother Superior and Father Barnard before rounding on Rose. His eyes, normally warm and paternal, now blazed with an intensity that made her take a step back.

"I understand you were at the Culpepper house last night?" he demanded, his voice sharp.

Rose's mind whirled. Why was the Sheriff questioning her? And why here, in the convent? She glanced at the Mother Superior, seeking guidance, but found only a slight nod. The message was clear: answer truthfully, but Rose knew instinctively that the whole truth might be more dangerous than a carefully crafted response.

"Yes, Sir," she replied, striving to keep her voice steady. "Mrs. Culpepper invited me to dinner."

The Sheriff's eyes narrowed. "And what, pray tell, did you discuss during this... dinner?"

Rose took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "We talked about local history, Sir. Mrs. Culpepper has a fascinating tapestry depicting events from pre-Christian times through to the early Christian kings." She allowed a note of girlish enthusiasm to creep into her voice. "Oh, and the food was simply wonderful!

She saw a flicker of impatience cross the Sheriff's face. Good, she thought. Let him think me a simple, easily distracted girl.

"Did you notice anything... unusual about Mrs. Culpepper or her household?" he pressed.

A chill ran down Rose's spine. "Unusual, Sir? I'm not sure I understand. I was the only guest, if that's what you mean." She turned to the Mother Superior, allowing confusion to show on her face. "What's this about?"

The Mother Superior's normally stern countenance softened slightly. "I'm afraid there's been an incident, Rose. Mrs. Culpepper was attacked last night."

Rose felt the blood drain from her face. Her shock was genuine as she gasped, "Attacked? Is she alright? When did this happen?"

"She was found near the grove in Potter's End," the Sheriff interjected. "She's suffered severe head injuries and is now in a coma at the hospital."

Rose's mind raced. Potter's End - where she had first met Glynnis and the other members of the sisterhood. She struggled to keep her expression neutral as she asked, "Where exactly did this happen?"

The Sheriff, caught off guard by the authority in her voice, answered almost reflexively. "By the stile at the edge of the field. Part of the upright was broken off - we believe it was the weapon used in the attack."

Rose's gaze flicked between the Mother Superior and Father Barnard. The priest gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Message received. Say nothing of the sisterhood or their activities.

"That's... that's terrible," Rose managed, her voice thick with genuine concern for Glynnis. "But I'm afraid I can't be of much help. I left well before then - around half past ten, I believe. Perhaps Mr. Haines, the butler, might know more? Mrs. Culpepper mentioned she often took late-night walks to help her sleep."

The Sheriff's shoulders slumped slightly. "Yes, we've spoken to Haines. He confirmed she left the house around eleven."

Rose could see the frustration etched on the Sheriff's face. She felt a pang of guilt for her deception, but knew she couldn't reveal the truth without endangering Glynnis and the others.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help, Sheriff," she said softly.

The man nodded, the fight seeming to go out of him. "Thank you for your time, Sister. Mother Superior, Father, if you'll excuse me, I should return to the hospital."

As the Mother Superior showed the Sheriff out, Father Barnard fixed Rose with a penetrating gaze. When they were alone, he spoke in a low voice. "What did you really learn last night, Rose?"

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Rose hesitated, torn between her loyalty to Glynnis and her respect for Father Barnard. Finally, she opted for a half-truth. "Only that there are forces at work in this town that go beyond what most people understand, Father. Forces that some are trying to control, for good or ill."

Father Barnard studied her for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, to Rose's surprise, he smiled and nodded. "I understand, Rose. More than you might think."

* * *

11:20 PM, The Cell of Sister Rose, Carmelite Convent

The small cell felt more confining than ever as Rose paced its length for what felt like the hundredth time. The nightly contemplation bell had rung over an hour ago, but her mind was far too active for prayer or sleep.

She ran her fingers over the rough stone walls, feeling the coolness seep into her skin. The dichotomy of her situation wasn't lost on her - here she was, a nun sworn to a life of contemplation and service to God, yet she found herself embroiled in matters that many would consider heretical.

With a sigh, Rose made her decision. She couldn't sit idly by while Glynnis lay injured and malevolent forces worked in the shadows. She slipped out of her habit, the familiar fabric falling away to reveal the simple dress her mother had made. It felt like shedding a skin, stepping out of one life and into another.

She retrieved her satchel from its hiding place beneath a loose floorboard, checking its contents with trembling hands. The copper mirror caught the faint moonlight filtering through her narrow window, its surface seeming to ripple with unseen energies. Next to it lay the candles and the crystal lens Glynnis had given her. Rose's fingers lingered on the lens, remembering the older woman's words about her gift.

As she prepared to leave, Rose's mind wandered back to the carriage ride home from the Culpepper estate. She had spent the journey staring blindly out the window, her thoughts a maelstrom of confusion and possibility. Part of her had wanted to embrace this new world that Glynnis had shown her, to fully explore the gifts she had long tried to suppress. But another part, the obedient nun she had strived to be for years, recoiled from the idea.

Now, with Glynnis attacked and the threat to the town growing, Rose knew she could no longer remain passive. Whether her abilities were a gift from God or something else entirely, she had to use them.

Holding her breath, Rose eased open the door of her cell. The hinges, usually silent, seemed to shriek in the quiet of the night. She froze, heart pounding, certain that at any moment she would hear the alarmed voices of her sisters. But the corridor remained silent.

Moving like a shadow, Rose made her way through the familiar paths of the convent. Every creak of a floorboard, every whisper of her skirts against stone, sounded thunderous to her ears. As she passed through the cloisters, the moonlight cast eerie shadows across the courtyard, and for a moment, Rose thought she saw movement in the darkness. She pressed herself against a column, hardly daring to breathe, but nothing materialized.

Finally, she reached the door of the Reliquary. To her surprise, a faint light seeped from beneath it. Rose's heart raced. Had the thief returned? Or was it something worse - one of the imp-like creatures she had seen before?

Her hand hovered over the door handle. Every instinct told her to run, to return to the safety of her cell. But the image of Glynnis, lying hurt and alone in a hospital bed, steeled her resolve. With a silent prayer for courage, Rose grasped the handle and turned it.

The door swung open with a soft creak, revealing a sight that stopped Rose in her tracks. Father Barnard sat at a small desk, a single candle illuminating the book before him. He looked up, his expression unsurprised.

"Come in, Rose," he said quietly, "and close the door."

Stunned, Rose complied. Before she could speak, Father Barnard rose and approached her. His eyes fell on the satchel she carried, and he held out his hand. Wordlessly, Rose passed it to him.

The priest peered inside, his expression unreadable in the flickering candlelight. After a moment, he returned the bag and resumed his seat.

"I expected you earlier," he said, his tone conversational, as if finding a nun sneaking out in the middle of the night was a common occurrence. "I assume, given the contents of your bag, that you intend to investigate Mrs. Culpepper's attack?"

Rose swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "Yes, Father," she admitted. "I thought... with the crystal Mrs. Culpepper gave me, I might be able to see more about what happened to her. And perhaps... perhaps I could learn more about Sister Madeline's death as well."

Father Barnard nodded slowly. "Very well," he said, gesturing to the space before him. "Proceed. I'm most interested to see your methods."

Rose stared at him, certain she had misheard. Surely he wasn't encouraging her to use what many would consider occult practices?

Seeing her hesitation, Father Barnard's expression softened. "It's alright, Rose. You have nothing to fear from me. I've seen much in my years with the Jesuits, and I've learned that the world is far more complex than many would have us believe."

Still uncertain, but bolstered by his words, Rose began to set up her implements. She arranged the candles in a semicircle, their flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. With reverent care, she placed the copper mirror before her, angling it to catch the candlelight.

Taking a deep breath, Rose began the incantation she had learned, the words feeling both foreign and familiar on her tongue. She held the green crystal lens up to her eye, peering through it into the mirror's depths.

At first, she saw only her own reflection, distorted by the lens. But as she focused, the image began to shift and blur. Slowly, a scene began to form in the mirror's surface.

Rose gasped as she saw Sister Madeline materialize, dozing in her chair as she so often had in life. Father Barnard leaned forward, his eyes searching the mirror's surface.

"What do you see?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's Sister Madeline," Rose breathed. "She's sleeping, just as she always did. But... oh!"

Rose's hand flew to her mouth as she watched the trapdoor to the cellar begin to rise. Three pairs of glowing red eyes peered out from the darkness below, sending a chill down her spine.

She described the scene to Father Barnard as it unfolded - the emergence of the imp-like creatures, their stealthy approach to the sleeping nun. Her voice faltered as she witnessed Sister Madeline's final moments, the sickening twist as the creature snapped her neck.

But it was the next moment that truly shook Rose to her core. As she watched, the face of the creature blurred and shifted, taking on the features of the younger Watts girl. "How is this possible?" she whispered, more to herself than to Father Barnard.

The priest leaned closer, his brow furrowed. "What do you see now, Rose?"

Rose described how the creatures retrieved the skull relic, their movements quick and purposeful as they disappeared back into the cellar. As the vision faded, she lowered the lens, her hand trembling.

"What now, Father?" she asked, turning to the priest. Her mind was reeling from what she had witnessed, the implications of the creature's transformation sending waves of dread through her.

Father Barnard's expression was grave as he considered her words. "The evidence seems clear, Rose. There is indeed a malevolent force at work here, one that goes beyond simple human wickedness." He paused, fixing her with an intense gaze. "The question now is: what do you propose we do next?"

Rose took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. The path ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, but she knew she could no longer stand idly by. "We need to find out where these creatures came from, Father, and who's controlling them. And we need to do it quickly, before anyone else gets hurt."

Father Barnard nodded, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Then we'd best get to work. The night is young, and we have much to do."

As they began to plan their next move, Rose felt a mixture of fear and exhilaration course through her. She was stepping into a world she barely understood, guided by abilities she was only beginning to grasp. But with Father Barnard's unexpected support and her own growing resolve, she felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.