Raven's Return

Chapter Seven: Asylum.

Chapter Seven: Asylum.

...

Outside the imposing penitentiary walls, an older woman lingered in the shadows, her sharp gaze scanning the surroundings for any sign of detection. Hidden behind a dense thicket, she remained poised, her breath steady as she watched the asylum's main entrance. Right on schedule, a bus pulled up to the gates. Its doors hissed open, releasing a procession of nuns, followed by a priest.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a white habit, swiftly draping it over her clothes. She added a long white cape, adjusting it to obscure the bulky backpack strapped to her shoulders. Hunching her frame into a convincing stoop, she transformed herself into a seemingly frail figure, her practiced movements betraying no sign of her true purpose.

With quiet determination, she slipped into the group, moving as one with the nuns. Their measured pace matched her own as they approached the guard at the gate.

The guard's scrutinizing gaze swept over them briefly. Finding nothing out of place, he entered the access code, and the heavy gate groaned open. The woman moved with deliberate slowness, her hunched posture concealing her face as she followed the others inside.

At the main building's entrance, another layer of security awaited. Guards methodically scanned the group, but her disguise held up under their inspection. Satisfied, they allowed the group to proceed.

Once inside, the woman seized her chance. With quiet precision, she drifted away from the group, her movements slow and unobtrusive. The guards, familiar with the routine visits of religious groups, paid her no mind. She passed them with ease, receiving only polite nods and quiet greetings.

"Good afternoon, Sister."

"Sister."

"Blessings to you, Sister."

She nodded silently in acknowledgment, her eyes sharp and alert. As she brushed past one guard, her nimble fingers deftly lifted a key card from his belt, tucking it into the folds of her cape. Armed now with an all-access pass, she maintained her calm, shuffling pace, drawing no attention as she navigated deeper into the labyrinthine asylum.

At last, she arrived at a secured door. Discreetly swiping the key card, she watched the light blink green. The lock clicked open, and she slipped through, her movements now quicker but still cautious.

The dim corridor stretched before her, its sterile silence broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights. She hurried forward, her heart pounding as she approached her destination. Reaching a solitary cell at the corridor's end, she cast a final glance over her shoulder. Assured she was alone, she stepped closer, her resolve hardening even as her heart ached.

Inside the cell, an emaciated figure lay motionless on the cold, unforgiving ground, shrouded in a tattered blanket. The sight hit her like a blow, and tears blurred her vision.

"What have they done to you, my son?" She whispered, her voice cracking as she sank to her knees before the bars. Her hands gripped the cold metal, her anguish palpable. With trembling fingers, she retrieved a small glass vial from her pocket. "Please, my son." She pleaded, her voice heavy with desperation. "Drink this and reclaim your essence." She carefully pushed the slender vial through the bars.

The figure stirred, a frail hand emerging from the blanket. It trembled as it closed around the vial. "Thank you, Mother." He spoke, his voice weak and rasping, barely escaped his parched lips.

He removed the cork and brought the vial to his lips, drinking its contents with a hunger born of despair, desperate to regain what was lost. As the liquid coursed through him, his hand steadied, and a flicker of vitality returned to his gaunt frame. The woman watched, her tearful gaze filled with hope and determination.