Nineteen and Orphaned, My Siblings in Our Cult Wanted Me Dead For My Inheritance
My hands still trembled as I held the communal tablet, the hidden folder’s contents burned into my mind. I had to know who else was involved, who else knew. The tablet’s activity log was surprisingly easy to trace, revealing consistent access from Kaelen’s personal identifier, particularly for the folder’s creation and recent modifications.
It was Kaelen. My own sister.
I found her in the communal kitchen, preparing the evening’s broth. The scent of simmering vegetables, usually comforting, felt cloying, a suffocating mask over the dread tightening in my chest. She hummed a low, tuneless melody, her back to me.
“Kaelen,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, yet it made her jump.
She spun around, her eyes wide, a ladle clattering against the metal pot. A nervous smile flickered across her face. “Elara! You startled me.”
Her gaze darted to the tablet in my hand. Her smile vanished. Her face paled, almost to the color of the peeled potatoes on the counter.
“Why is your ID on this?” I asked, holding the tablet out, the hidden folder icon still visible on the screen. “Why are you creating folders full of… plans to hurt me?”
Kaelen’s breath hitched. She took a step back, hitting the counter behind her. The color drained from her cheeks entirely. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was a strained, thin sound.
“Don’t lie to me,” I pushed, my own voice rising despite my efforts to keep it steady. “I saw the messages. The ‘rigorous spiritual journeys.’ The strategies to make me relinquish the stewardship. It’s all there, Kaelen. Your ID created it.”
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring them. She shook her head, a slow, desperate movement. Her hands clenched into fists, then opened, trembling.
“Jorah and Lyra,” she choked out, the words bursting from her. “They made me. They threatened me, Elara.”
I stared at her, the accusation a bitter taste in my mouth. “They *made* you? Made you plan my downfall? My… my death?” The implication of Rhys’s words from the garden still echoed.
She covered her face with her hands, sobbing openly now. The ladle lay forgotten, broth simmering forgotten on the stove. “Not death, Elara! Never death! Just… just that you’d see reason. That you’d give up the funds. That you’d move out of the prime quarters.”
“And the ‘spiritual journeys’ designed to weaken me? To make me fall ill?” I pressed, my voice hard, refusing to let her off the hook. “Was that part of ‘seeing reason’ too?”
Kaelen dropped her hands, her face streaked with tears, a raw, tormented plea in her eyes. “They said it was for the community’s good. They said you were being selfish. That you were hoarding what belonged to all of us.”
“And you believed them?” I asked, my voice cracking. “After all our parents taught us about stewardship, about trust?”
She averted her gaze, unable to meet my eyes. “They’ve been talking about it for months. Ever since Mom and Dad… passed. Jorah said it wasn’t right for the youngest to hold so much. Lyra said you were too naive, too emotional, to manage such a heavy responsibility.”
“And what about Elder Silas?” I demanded, the thought of his serene, guiding presence suddenly curdling in my stomach. “Did he agree with this ‘community good’ that involves harming me?”
Kaelen flinched, a sharp, involuntary movement. Her eyes darted around the kitchen, as if looking for an escape, or perhaps for listeners in the empty room. She wrung her hands.
“Silas?” I prompted, stepping closer, my voice firm. “What does Elder Silas have to do with this?”
She took a shaky breath, then another, trying to compose herself. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t Jorah’s idea to isolate you, not really. Not the first idea. Not the subtle one, at least.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “What are you talking about, Kaelen?”
“The whispers,” she said, her voice barely audible, “the ones about your selfishness. The ‘spiritual unworthiness.’ Those came from him. From Silas.”
A cold dread spread through me, chilling me deeper than Rhys’s earlier words. “Elder Silas? But why?”
Kaelen finally met my gaze, her eyes brimming with a different kind of fear now—fear of revealing something much larger, much more dangerous. “Jorah… Jorah has been making regular ‘donations’ to Elder Silas’s pet projects. For months. Small ones, almost imperceptible. For the new communal garden beds, for the irrigation system for the south fields, for the upgrades to the meditation hall. Nothing too big to raise suspicion, but enough to make Silas… listen more closely to Jorah’s ‘concerns’ about the communal funds.”
I felt a dizzying wave of disbelief. Elder Silas, the man who often spoke of humility and selfless service, a man my parents had deeply respected. My parents had taught us that true devotion meant absolute integrity, especially when handling communal resources. Was that all a lie too?
“Donations?” I repeated, the word tasting like ash. “So Jorah was essentially buying his influence?”
“He called it ‘support for the community’s spiritual growth’,” Kaelen said, a bitter edge to her voice. “But yes. He’d bring it up casually, during the evening meals with Silas. Just mentioning how valuable the projects were. How much they deserved funding. Then he’d lament that the family’s stewardship funds weren’t being… reallocated properly for such essential work.”
She wrung her hands again, her gaze falling to the floor. “Silas… he values his projects. His vision for the community. And Jorah made it sound like the lack of funding was because you were being overly cautious. Or, worse, selfish.”
“And Elder Silas just took Jorah’s word for it?” I asked, a fresh wave of betrayal washing over me. “He didn’t question why Jorah, who has no direct authority over the stewardship, was making such statements?”
“Jorah has a way with words, Elara,” Kaelen sighed, her shoulders slumping. “He makes it sound like he’s just expressing concern, observing things. He frames it like a spiritual problem, not a financial one. And Silas… he just saw the opportunity for his projects. He started mentioning in sermons, subtly, about the importance of generous stewardship, of letting resources flow freely for the Everlight’s greater good.”
The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. The rumors hadn’t just been my siblings’ petty gossip. They had been given a spiritual weight, subtly endorsed by an elder, making me not just ungenerous, but spiritually unsound. It wasn’t just a family dispute; it was a carefully orchestrated campaign to undermine my standing within the entire Everlight Way.
“So this was always about getting the funds,” I whispered, the crushing weight of the revelation settling on me. “Not for the ‘community good,’ not really. For Jorah, for Lyra, for Rhys to control.”
Kaelen nodded, her eyes still downcast. “Jorah saw it as his right, as the eldest. Lyra and Rhys… they just wanted a share, enough to secure their own position. They felt entitled.”
“And you went along with it,” I stated, not a question.
She looked up, fresh tears streaming. “They said if I didn’t, they’d expose my… my secret.”
My brow furrowed. “Your secret? What secret?”
Kaelen’s jaw trembled. “I’ve been… corresponding with someone outside the Everlight Way. A childhood friend who left years ago. Lyra found out. She said she’d tell Elder Silas, the High Council. That I’d be cast out.” Her voice was filled with terror at the prospect.
The depths of their manipulation. They had found Kaelen’s deepest vulnerability, her desperate need for connection beyond the rigid confines of our community, and twisted it into a weapon against her, forcing her complicity. And in doing so, they’d weaponized her against me.
“So you chose to help them hurt me, rather than risk your own reputation?” I asked, the words feeling sharp and cold.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, Elara!” she cried, wringing her hands again. “I swear. I just… I was so afraid. They made it sound like you were being stubborn, that you’d eventually see reason. And the ‘journeys’… they said they’d be gentle, just a little fasting, a little more meditation. Nothing too extreme. Just enough to make you tired of the responsibility.”
“But the messages I read,” I countered, “they talked about extreme ascetic practices. About weakening me.”
Kaelen shuddered. “That was Rhys. That was his idea. He’s… he’s different, Elara. More calculating. Jorah just wanted to control the funds. Lyra wanted her share. But Rhys… he has plans. Bigger ones. He sees you as a direct obstacle to his own standing in the community.”
My gaze hardened. Rhys. The man who had uttered those chilling words about me “finding my way to the Everlight soon.” He was the one pushing the most extreme measures.
“So, Elder Silas, Jorah, Lyra, Rhys… and you,” I summarized, the names forming a bitter knot in my throat. “All of you, conspiring against me.”
Kaelen shrank under my stare. “I’m sorry, Elara. I really am. I feel sick about it. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t defy them without losing everything.”
“And what about me, Kaelen?” I asked, my voice rising in a wave of raw pain. “What about what I’m losing? My family. My trust. My sense of safety in the only home I’ve ever known.”
She didn’t have an answer, just more tears. Her confession, while a shattering revelation, hadn’t brought the relief I thought it would. Instead, it had deepened the pit of betrayal, exposing how pervasive the rot was. Elder Silas, a pillar of the community, was compromised. My siblings, the people I had always looked up to, were manipulative and cruel. And Kaelen, my own sister, had been a pawn, but a willing one in her fear.
I looked at the tablet again, then at Kaelen, still sobbing quietly. The smell of the simmering broth filled the silence. It was a familiar, comforting smell, but now it felt tainted. I had come seeking answers, and I had found them, but they tasted like poison. The Everlight Way, once a sanctuary, now felt like a cage. And my family, once my anchor, had become the very people I needed protection from. I had to find a way to stop them, not just for myself, but for what little integrity might still exist within the community. But how? And who, truly, could I trust now? My world, built on faith and family, was crumbling around me.
I gripped the tablet tighter. I couldn’t let her tears sway me. Kaelen’s complicity, even under duress, had helped weave the web of deceit that threatened to consume me. My next move had to be carefully considered, deliberate. But for now, the immediate crisis was to process this fresh wave of betrayal, a betrayal that reached higher into the Everlight Way than I had ever imagined possible. Kaelen had cracked open a door, but what lay behind it was far more terrifying than I’d anticipated. This wasn’t just about funds; it was about power, and the willingness of those I loved to dismantle everything for it.
“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.
She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. “Because… because I see what it’s doing to you. What it’s doing to all of us. And Rhys… he’s getting bolder. He talks about accelerating things. Before the Feast of Renewal, he said.”
The Feast of Renewal. That was just weeks away. My blood ran cold again. Rhys wasn’t just planning; he had a timeline. This wasn’t just manipulation; it was a race against time.
“So,” I said, my voice hardening, “you’re telling me this because you’re scared for yourself, Kaelen, not just for me.”
She winced, but didn’t deny it. “I’m scared for all of us, Elara. And I don’t want to be part of it anymore. They’re going too far.”
Her words held a hint of genuine desperation, a flicker of the sister I once knew. But the trust was shattered. It would take more than tears and fear to rebuild it. It would take action. And I realized then, with a heavy heart, that my next step would have to involve confronting the very foundation of the Everlight Way’s authority.
I turned from her, the tablet still clutched in my hand, the knowledge within it a heavy, burning weight. Kaelen was just the first crack in the wall. Now, I knew where the real cracks lay.
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