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)
I could feel my body responding to the night, the heat rising inside me, my thoughts clouded and chaotic. I hated myself for it, for not being able to resist the intoxicating pull of this place, even as Emilia stood bound to the cross, ready to sacrifice herself to a world that saw her as nothing more than a vessel.
She was giving in, just as I was on the verge of doing, and the thought terrified me.
In the shadows of Stygian Isle, surrender seemed inevitable.
“And thank you, Diaboli,” Emilia’s voice was soft, almost reverent, “for consuming my last. It is the greatest honor of all.”
I stared at her, confusion rippling through me, her words not fully sinking in. “What?” I managed to murmur, feeling a strange sense of unease.
Her smile faltered, her eyes searching mine as if she had expected me to understand. “You weren’t aware.”
“Aware of what?” I asked, my voice shaky, an uneasy tension coiling in my stomach.
Emilia’s gaze flickered back inside toward the table, where the remnants of the feast still lay. “The first flesh is always served to Diabolus and his high table. It’s our tradition,” she said, her tone calm and measured like she was explaining something obvious.
Her eyes locked onto mine again, a haunting weight behind them.
My mind raced, the pieces slowly, sickeningly clicking together. I felt my blood run cold, recalling the food I had eaten without question. My pulse pounded in my ears, and my hand trembled slightly as I began to understand. “What-what did I eat?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, horror lacing every syllable.
Emilia’s expression didn’t waver. Her voice remained soft, resigned. “My precious boy.”
The truth washed over me in a nauseating wave. The meat I had eaten—it was the remains of the baby, the very one I’d watched be delivered. My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat as the full weight of what I had unknowingly consumed settled into my bones. I had been made part of something monstrous. Something I could never undo.
The effects of the drink were gradually taking a stronger hold, blurring the sharp edges of my horror. My heart raced for reasons I couldn’t control and despite the sickening truth I’d uncovered, a warm, disorienting heat spread through my body. My pulse quickened, and my thoughts grew hazy, clouded by a sudden rush of lust and an unwelcome pull toward the world around me. I felt a presence beside me and Alexander’s hand slipped into mine, his touch firm and possessive. I looked up, startled, my skin tingling from his proximity. His black and white face made him appear hauntingly beautiful and sinister in the flickering light. He didn’t speak, just squeezed my hand, guiding me closer to the dais. The night had long been decided, and I was simply a player in the unfolding nightmare.
A group of women, dressed in thin, sheer black gowns, silently formed a semi-circle around the dais, their hands linking together in ritualistic reverence.
Their faces were hidden beneath veils, their movements slow, deliberate. The congregation gathered, drawn like moths to the flame. Their eyes were fixed on Alexander, who now stood before them, commanding the night with his presence. His hand released mine as he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the thick air with a dark authority that sent shivers down my spine.
“Tonight, the tainted shall be purged from among us.”
Out of the shadows, Cassandra and Jamison stepped forward. I hadn’t seen his wife all night, and her sudden appearance sent a wave of unease through me. There was something about the way she moved, her face serene that felt wrong.
It was as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life. I knew she hated Emilia for receiving her brother’s, her husband’s affection.
Jamison stood beside her, his expression carefully neutral, unreadable, as he gazed up at the woman he had comforted tenderly, not so long ago.
Alexander’s dark voice filled the air, commanding and absolute. “The Isle claims all, and we—its chosen—stand witness to the return of the tainted to the shadows. The cycle is eternal. We do not question the Isle's will. We obey, we consume, and we burn away what is unworthy.”
As his words hung in the air, two masked nuns appeared, emerging from either side of the dais with solemn grace. Each carried a lit torch, the flames casting long, eerie shadows that danced across the terrace. One nun approached Alexander and handed him a torch, while the other moved silently toward Jamison, who took the torch without hesitation. The air crackled with tension as Jamison stepped forward, lowering his torch to the base of the structure that loomed above us all.
The flames caught in an instant, licking up the inverted cross with terrifying speed. The heat was intense, the fire roaring, illuminating the terrace in a fierce, unholy glow.