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)
He took my hand and led me out of the room. We walked down the staircase toward the massive doors that led into the heart of the Chapel. On our way, I noticed the pregnant woman from earlier passing through a doorway with a man by her side. They were both unmasked now that the service had ended. They looked like the perfect couple, both stunningly attractive, dressed down in muted gold and soft grays that clearly reflected their elevated station on the Isle.
There was a familial resemblance between them, as though they could have been siblings rather than spouses. Alexander greeted them, his tone surprisingly casual. “You’re still here, Jamison?” he addressed the man.
Jamison grinned and held up a manila envelope. "I needed to grab a file from my office."
“I thought you’d stay in tonight,” Alexander replied, tightening his arm around me. “The baby could come at any time.”
“All the more reason to get everything done now, right?”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Alexander mused.
Throughout the entire interaction, the woman kept her eyes downcast, not once meeting mine. Jamison barely glanced my way either, not until Alexander wrapped his arm around me a bit tighter and said, “Lolita, this is one of our most esteemed disciples, Jamison Delacroix, and his wife, Cassandra.”
Finally, Cassandra lifted her gaze to meet mine, and Jamison looked at me as well, both greeting me with a slight bow of their heads, displaying the reverence fitting of my station.
I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me. I had no idea what I was supposed to say. The doctrine hadn’t covered how to handle introductions like this and neither had Matron Seraphine. So, I winged it, offering a hesitant nod and murmuring, “It’s nice to meet you.”
They seemed more than satisfied with that, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of embarrassment.
Cassandra’s voice was soft and reverent. "We are so glad you're home, Diaboli."
Before I could muster a response, Alexander interjected smoothly, saving me from having to address her statement. I was grateful, but I knew it wasn’t just for my benefit—it was for his as well. The conversation between them continued, their tone easy and familiar. They spoke of mundane things—chores, responsibilities, a future gathering.
I felt myself drifting, trying to hold onto the fragments of normalcy while trapped in a world that felt anything but. Alexander finally told them to head home and for Cassandra to get some rest. “You both should,” he added, his voice taking on a gentler edge. “The baby will need both of you in your best shape.”
With nods and more polite smiles, Jamison and Cassandra bid us farewell. Alexander’s grip on my hand tightened as he led me forward once again, guiding me through the massive Chapel doors. Two figures stood on either side of the entrance, still masked, their silent presence a reminder of the ever-watchful eyes in this place. The heavy doors closed behind us with a resounding thud, sealing us inside.
We moved deeper into the heart of the Chapel, the vast space looming around us.
The dim light cast eerie shadows across the stone floor, and the air was thick with the lingering energy of the earlier service.
My feet faltered as we approached the altar, the statue of the Devil looming above us, a haunting reminder of my place here. I couldn’t help but glance at the statue, its imposing figure towering over the room, the woman at its feet forever bound to its power.
This was the very spot where I had knelt, trembling as the searing heat of the branding iron had burned its mark on my skin. The memory surged up from the depths of my mind—the pain, the heat, the sickening smell of flesh burning, followed by the cold reality of what it signified. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling a phantom sting from my back, a constant reminder of what had been done to me, of the claim Alexander made.
And here I was again, with him beside me, as if nothing had changed, yet everything had.
The blood that had stained the floor earlier—the horrifying remnants of Nicolette's punishment was now gone, scrubbed away as if it had never existed.
The Chapel felt larger, more cavernous without the congregation filling the pews, their eerie masked faces long departed at this point. It was almost peaceful in its stillness, though I knew better than to be fooled by it. I let my gaze wander further, taking in the details that I hadn’t noticed before. The dark wooden beams crisscrossing high above, the intricate carvings along the walls, all of it meant to invoke reverence, submission, and fear. Even the flickering candles along the altar seemed to cast shadows with purpose, playing tricks on my mind.
Alexander stood beside me, his presence commanding even in silence. I could feel his eyes on me, studying my every move, every breath. He always knew what I was thinking before I did. I turned slowly, meeting his gaze.