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)
She thrashed with each violent tug of the thread, trying to twist away, but it only made the process worse.
"Be still," Alexander's voice was soft, eerily calm, but her body only jerked harder, a reflex born of pure pain. He didn’t pause. The blade slipped again, tearing through the flesh of her chin before he looped it back into her lip, over and over, the grotesque dance continuing without mercy.
Each pass of the needle sent another spray of blood splattering to the floor, staining the pristine surface beneath her. He had to of been wearing a mic or something because the room was filled with wet, visceral sounds — the crackling of skin being pierced, the squelch of blood, and the metallic scrape of the knife as he set it down to pull more thread. I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of it all, my pulse hammering in my ears. But I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of horror, Alexander finished, stepping back to admire his work. Nicolette’s lips were sewn shut, the threads pulled taut, trapping her raw screams behind the crude stitches. Blood continued to seep from the wounds, dripping slowly onto the floor. I pressed my hands harder against the glass, my breath fogging it as I stared at Nicolette’s mangled face.
Her mouth was a bloody ruin, half her lips gone, leaving her teeth and gums exposed and stained with blood. Her chest was heaving as if each breath might be her last. Bishop approached her, cradling a small bowl filled with something thick and black. It looked like tar.
“What is that?” I asked.
Seraphine’s calm voice came from beside me, chillingly casual. "A numbing agent we use to ease their suffering, made from nightshade, poppy resin, and ash."
Bishop squeezed Nicolette’s jaw until a small enough opening formed around the thread, and I winced as he poured the thick, tar-like substance into her mouth. "This will help with the pain," he said, though his voice was devoid of empathy.
Her cries turned into weak, muffled gasps. The light in her eyes seemed to flicker, dimming as the concoction took its hold.
"That… doesn’t look like it’s meant to help," I murmured, nausea gathering in the pit of my stomach.
Seraphine’s smile was thin, almost pitying. "It helps in more ways than one. It silences the body… and the mind."
Nicolette was carried off by masked nuns, her limp body draped over their arms as they moved swiftly through a rear door. The sight of her broken form disappearing from view left a chill in the air.
“Her husband will retrieve her,” Seraphine explained.
The words echoed in my head. "Her husband?" I remembered Nicolette mentioning she had someone, but I couldn’t imagine any man being okay with his wife enduring what she did.
"Yes," Seraphine confirmed without hesitation. “He’ll take her home and care for her.”
“Why did he allow that to happen in the first place?” I couldn't help but ask, struggling to make sense of it.
“Electi," Selena called softly, addressing me formally. "We do not allow or disallow anything. We follow Diabolus’ will and word.”
Keres, who had resigned herself to sitting back down, finally spoke again, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “All that devotion, Selena, hasn’t gotten you any closer to being his bride.”
Selena laughed lightly; her composure unshaken. Instead of lashing out, she maintained the same unnerving calm as always, her face a mask of serenity. "Devotion is not measured in proximity to power, Keres."
“Sounds like a convenient excuse for being nothing but a fuck buddy,” Keres countered.
Seraphine’s voice cut in. “That’s enough. Talking like that is beyond disrespectful—not only to Acolyte Selena but to Impío, Diabolus, and your sister.”
I took it to mean I was the sister in question. “I don’t feel disrespected,” I interjected, the words coming out before I could think better of it. “Alexander already told me about her.” Speaking his name when they avoided it felt bold.
Selena’s smile remained calm, devoid of malice. “I’m glad you two have progressed to that point,” she said smoothly. “That means you should understand your role even better now, Electi.”
Seraphine nodded in agreement. “That’s right. We all serve a purpose. Yours is so important—all of you.”
The conversation felt pointless. I shook my head, turning my gaze back down into the Chapel.
Nicolette’s mangled mouth flashed in my mind, bloodied and raw, her life now one of silence. I swallowed hard.
And it wasn’t over.
Not even close.
The next person—a young man, his face pale and trembling—was brought forward. Phoenix raised his arm, and the crowd went silent. Unlike Nicolette, this man’s punishment would not be about silencing him but breaking his spirit. Phoenix’s voice echoed through the Chapel as he listed the man’s transgressions. “For questioning the tenets of Impío… for doubting the path… you shall now be marked as a heretic until you prove to be devout once more."