Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
"So, in the night, we fervently pray,
For guidance, for strength, for Impío’s way.
In chains and in freedom, Diabolus we obey,
Bound to the darkness, in his faith we'll stay."
As the final organ note echoed through the Chapel and faded into the stillness, Matron Seraphine turned to us with a curious smile, her sharp gaze sweeping over our small group.
“Well?” she asked, her voice calm but with an edge of expectation. “What did you think?”
Keres was the first to speak with more than a hint of sarcasm. “Well, it’s catchy, I’ll give them that. Very... uplifting. If you’re into worshipping the Devil.”
Pandora, ever the quiet one, simply nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly preferring to keep her thoughts to herself. When Seraphine’s sharp gaze landed on me, waiting for my response, I hesitated. The hymn's chilling words still echoed in my mind, their meaning sinking deeper than I wanted to admit.
I forced a small, uneasy smile. “It was... intense," I said, my voice quieter than I intended. "Not quite like anything I've ever heard before."
Keres let out a soft snort beside me. "You’re too nice, Lita," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest.
Seraphine’s smile didn’t waver as she nodded, her eyes gleaming with approval. “Good. You’ll find intensity is often necessary to keep the faithful in line.”
“Obedience has its own beauty, doesn’t it?” Selena stated from behind us, her words felt like a challenge, though her tone remained sweet.
I didn’t answer, my attention drawn to the man in the deer mask who had moved to the front of the Chapel. His robe was the same deep shade as in the portrait I had seen hanging in Alexander’s twisted mancave, the fabric flowing heavily around him.
There was still no sign of Alexander, and the absence gnawed on my nerves. My gaze drifted upward to the statue looming over everyone below. It always filled me with a sense of unease—the dark, fallen angel petting the woman at its knees, as if comforting her in eternal submission. I shuddered, trying to look away but I swore its gaze was somehow pulling me back.
The man in the deer mask raised his arms, and the Chapel fell into a heavy silence. His voice, deep and commanding, filled the space. “Brothers and sisters,” he began, his tone solemn, “Tonight is the eve of Tenebris Consummatum. It is a night of atonement, to strengthen our bonds of Impío, and punish those that have gone astray.”
"That's my Phoenix," Pandora murmured, the name slipping out too casually. Keres shot her a quick glance, eyebrows raised.
The two of us exchanged a look over Pandora's head.
She had never said his name before. I could sense something more in the way she had. Affection maybe?
The deer-masked man, Phoenix, suddenly spoke again, his voice booming with finality. “Bow for Diabolus,” he commanded, the words slicing through the still air like a blade.
Without hesitation, every masked figure in the pews began to shift, the movement almost synchronized as they left their seats and knelt on the floor in front of them. Heads bowed low, their reverence palpable. I hesitated, unsure of what was expected of me, but something inside me refused to drop to my knees. Not even Seraphine’s watchful gaze could coax me into subservience as she dropped to her knees along with Selena.
He couldn’t even see us.
Keres and Pandora remained seated as well.
The organ began to play once more, the haunting melody reverberating off the stone walls.
And then he appeared.
Alexander, or Diabolus as they all called him here, made his way down the aisle. He had changed, now wearing a black demonic mask like the others—his presence was unmistakable, commanding as always. Two more masked men flanked him on either side, dressed in similar dark robes. The slow, deliberate cadence of their footsteps matched the organ’s slow wail, and with each step, my heart seemed to pound louder in my chest.
When they reached the front of the Chapel, the organ fell into silence. The air felt thick as if we were all holding our breath. Alexander, now fully transformed into Diabolus, turned slowly, his gaze sweeping the room from behind his mask.
The atmosphere grew heavier under his presence, every person in the Chapel locked in place.
When he spoke, his voice reverberated, deep and commanding, as though every word was etched into the very walls.
“My devoted,” he began, his tone rich with authority, dripping with a dark charisma that could bend even the strongest will, “We gather tonight not just as kin, but as those chosen by Impío, bound by blood, by oath, and by power. We gather to ensure our faith and our home remain protected from outsiders, and those that have turned to non-believers.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room like a heavy fog, his gaze sweeping over the kneeling masked figures, ensuring their submission. “I thank my Magistri Tenebrarum for their unwavering loyalty," he said, his tone carrying a dark reverence. "And now, Magistri Bishop will lead us in prayer."