The air in the convent of Santa Gertrudis was heavy that morning, charged with a stillness that felt like the calm before a storm. Sister Esperanza, a figure of apparent innocence and devotion, held an infant in her arms while a two-year-old clung to her white habit. With a serene smile that clashed with the gravity of her words, she said to Mother Gracia: “Mother Superior, I think I’m pregnant again.”

Mother Gracia’s heart froze. Her usually calm face turned pale. How was it possible? For the third consecutive year, the same nun—inside a place where no man, except Father Camilo, ever set foot—was once again expecting a child.

Trying to remain composed, Mother Gracia fought off a storm of emotions: disbelief, fear, and a growing suspicion that cut against her deepest faith. She had swallowed the story of divine miracle the first two times, but now, the persistence of these unexplained pregnancies sounded like a cruel mockery, a challenge to both logic and God’s law. “This makes no sense,” she whispered, wondering if her unshakable faith had been the blindness the devil needed to roam freely within her convent.

Determined to put an end to the mystery, she called upon Dr. Clare, the convent’s trusted physician. The young doctor—who herself had arrived under mysterious circumstances not unlike Esperanza—confirmed what Mother Gracia already feared: the test was positive. But what came next left her breathless. Unlike a normal pregnancy, Esperanza’s body showed no trace of physical contact. “She remains technically pure,” Clare confirmed.

The words fell like ice water, cementing Mother Gracia’s darkest suspicion. Esperanza’s purity was not proof of a miracle, but evidence of something that even medicine refused to explain. Her faith wavered. Was Sister Esperanza truly a vessel for God’s miracles? Or was there a secret so dangerous that reason itself recoiled from it?

Convinced of the latter, Mother Gracia began her investigation. With the help of her loyal companion, Sister Ana Francis—a nun with sharp eyes and a silence as deep as her devotion—she set out on a search for truth, unaware that it would put her on a collision course with a force beyond imagination. Years of peace and serenity in the convent had vanished, replaced by a whirlwind of suspicion and dread.

The origins of the mystery traced back two years earlier. Mother Gracia, Sister Ana, and the newly arrived Dr. Clare had walked through the convent, relieved by the good health of the sisters. Joking lightly, the doctor remarked that though she was no angel, perhaps one day a real angel would descend into their “little sanctuary.” What none of them knew was that her words would come true—but not in a way of blessing. In a way of tragedy.

That very night, a thunderous noise shook the convent to its foundations. Rushing out into the courtyard with Sister Ana, Mother Gracia froze at the sight before her. A young woman lay unconscious on the ground, her white habit glowing with an otherworldly light. Touching her, Gracia confirmed she was alive and quickly summoned Dr. Clare.

The woman awoke with no memory, no name, no past. Her body, however, was flawless. Seeing the fear in the stranger’s eyes, Mother Gracia gave her a name—Esperanza—and welcomed her into the convent under the pretense of a new novice. No one else knew the truth. Yet Esperanza was a puzzle piece that didn’t belong to any picture.

Months passed, and she adapted well—devout, kind, helpful. But then came the first sign. Esperanza complained of dizziness and nausea. A medical check confirmed pregnancy. Shock struck Gracia and Ana, but they reassured themselves it must have happened before her arrival.

Once again, however, Clare delivered the impossible verdict: Esperanza was untouched. Pure. Esperanza, radiant, called it a miracle of God. Gracia, torn between faith and reason, turned to Father Camilo, who proclaimed it divine intervention and warned her to keep it secret.

Esperanza’s pregnancy was unlike any other. No fatigue, no pain. She refused to let anyone but Dr. Clare touch her belly, claiming, “It must remain untouched. God wills it so.” Sister Ana, with years of experience caring for expectant mothers, grew wary. Something was wrong.

Her suspicion proved true one cold night when the cry of a newborn shattered the silence. Gracia and Ana rushed to Esperanza’s chamber and froze: there she sat, radiant, holding a blood-stained habit and a living baby. “The baby is real,” whispered Ana, stunned. Who had assisted the birth? “I did—with God’s help,” Esperanza answered, smiling.

It happened again. And again. Pregnancies without conception, births without pain. Fear and doubt consumed the convent. Only with Esperanza’s third pregnancy did Gracia finally resolve to uncover the truth.

What she found would defy faith and reason alike. A truth so monstrous that it sealed her fate—beneath earth, in a wooden coffin. Because sometimes, the truth is far more terrifying than any fairy tale