By:  B. Shenanigan  Ongoing
Language: English
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The knights of Saint Christopher arrived, and they brought nightmares to the little convent of the good sisters- an angel who was the opposite of his kind, a forbidden love affair, a predator of innocents, a monster for a father, and a death. Mathilda, who had nothing but hatred for this world, would slay the evils to protect her people, or was she the evil they needed saving from?

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95 Chapters
The Prologue
The lake was still asleep, but its eeriness was abrupted by her waking movement.     She was laid on it. Half of her body was drowning from the freezing water while the other half was slightly submerged on the shallow rim. It seemed that she had water for a cloth for her night gown was embracing her body tight, and it was failingly hiding the scar from last night.      There was a scarlet colored stain on her ivory white cloth, it was directly on the flesh of the s
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The Great and the Trickster
It was by far the coldest day of the month, but it did not meant that I could spend all day drowning on pillows and savoring a cup of old tea. I preferred that though, but I had to finish my long list of chores and it would take me quarter of the day to have all done.      And besides, avocation was strictly forbidden in the convent. I slightly learned the hard way when I chose slumber over my task of feeding old Rufus and his pals.      As punishment, the sisters made me sleep with
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The Boy with a Crooked Smile
It was summer, the sun casted a wide blanket of warmth over the compound of Saint Agatha’s convent. All the stained-glass windows were open, all curtains tied, allowing the summer breeze inside our home, and posing as a frame for this picturesque view of little girls playing around the field of fresh greens and yellows.      Most of the time, Mother Renata stood upfront capturing this moment, but a little accident interrupted her artisanship.   &nbs
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The Robe Wearing Cult
“Knights of Saint Christopher, we, the sisters of Saint Agatha, welcome you all.”     The hall reverberated with Mother Renata’s voice. We were all summoned to welcome these so-called knights, even Granny, the old crook the convent adopted, was imperatively told to attend. I was at the back corner of the row, but I could still see them. 
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The Three Sillies
For years, Hana was the only person in the convent I called friend and considered my family, but not until the three girls.     The first one was Agnes. When she arrived at the convent with her mother, she was actually ecstatic. She was from a family of nine and they could barely fill their mouths, so her parents decided that someone needed to go, and she merrily volunteered.      She was willowy with long legs and her fingernails were fu
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The Peeking Eyes
The prayer hall was a different realm from the perspicuous convent. Instead of rustic oaks and bronze detailing, the inside of the hall was filled with abounding sandalwoods and golds. But the absolute treasure within the interior was the renaissance fresco that stretched from the nave up to the high altar.      The ceiling was brimming with images of little angels and doves, across a dawning sky. All of them seemed alive, and as if had an affair of their own. Some angels were playing, there were some that appeared to be dancing, and funnily, a few were soundly sleeping.
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The Doubting Gal
It had been a week and a half since the knights of Saint Christopher arrived. True to their words, they did help us, some of them tended the crops and the livestock, while the others cut fire woods and fixed crippled chattels in the convent. But there was still whispering in the halls for the sisters were yet unsure about their sincere intent.     However, I knew that sooner, someone would mindlessly feed their sheer pretense. But not me. I had been swimming on my own cluttered thought, so after my chores, I decided to clear my head.
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The Convent's Weasel
I made it on time for dinner.      As I walked back my quarter earlier, everyone assumed that I was one of the knights, so no one dared ask where I had been or where I was going. I felt like a ghost treading through halls. I was there, but no one could really see me, or they just chose not to.        The mess hall was packed. The split log tables that were usually spacious for its length,
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The Old Hag
I was wrong. Sister Rene was not boiling, she was scorching.     The morning next day, A pint of freezing water woke me up of my sleep slumber. I did not need to open my eyes to know who was the culprit for I expected her retribution.     She was standing over me with the same overly ironed habit that was a slur on her blanched skin and a bit oversized for her wildly slender body. It was unbecoming for her. As she stared down on me, the p
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The Hell's Cradle
I decided to start with the most untiring task from the list, which was feeding the horses, and end it opposite the latter, which was cleaning the bare dirtied hog pen. But it was now midday, and still, I was not even half done with the chores. And to make matters worse, I was already dead worn out.     Hence, I decided to rest, and there was only one place to hide from Sister Rene’s lurking eyes. The neighboring river-lake.     It was really a lake that resembled a motionless river. Its slithering tails were far-reachin
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