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)
Alexander’s voice, deep and resonant, echoed over the crackling flames. “The Isle reclaims the tainted. In fire, the unworthy are purified. Ad vitam et mortem.”
The crowd responded as one, their voices rising into the night like a dark prayer. “Ad vitam et mortem!” The chant filled the air, thick and oppressive, as the flames grew ever higher, wrapping the cross in its fiery embrace. Alexander raised his torch high, his gaze sweeping across the congregation, eyes glinting with a sinister intensity.
Jamison, standing beside him, looked once more at the burning structure, then, in a chillingly smooth gesture, handed his torch to Cassandra. She took it eagerly, her lips curling into a grin as she stepped forward, adding to the growing inferno.
The fire roared, feeding on the fuel of their dark ritual. Emilia, who had remained silent aside from beginning to cough, her expression eerily calm throughout, began to stir. At first, it was just a faint movement, almost imperceptible, as the heat began to lick her feet. Then the first flames touched her, and a painful gasp escaped her lips. The flames grew fiercer, climbing her body, and soon her voice broke free, a scream of agony that echoed through the night.
No one moved to help. No one even blinked. Instead, the women in their thin, black gowns began to chant in Latin, their voices low and haunting as they circled the blazing cross.
Their chant was rhythmic and ancient, their bodies swaying in time with the growing flames, as though they were conducting the ritual itself. The music began to rise again, slow at first, eerie, and hypnotic, matching the cadence of the women’s chanting.
As the fire raged and Emilia’s screams turned into desperate cries, the music picked up, growing louder and more jubilant, as if this grotesque display were something to be celebrated. The congregation, entranced by the fire and the ritual, began to move. Laughter and shouts filled the air as the celebration broke out, people dancing and drinking as if they had just witnessed something glorious. The scent of burning wood—and flesh—filled my nostrils as I stood frozen, caught in the nightmarish scene unfolding before me.
The flames consumed everything, but for them, it was nothing more than a reminder of their twisted faith. I stepped away from the dais, my pulse hammering in my ears, struggling to hold myself together. I could feel eyes on me—watching with suffocating reverence. If I lost it now, if I let the horror take over, I knew I’d pay for it. Swallowing down the nausea that threatened to overtake me, I forced myself to move.
Each step felt like a fight against the weight of the drink still fogging my mind. My legs carried me down a path that twisted into the trees, away from the terrace and the celebratory atmosphere. The cool night air hit my skin, offering a fleeting sense of relief as I sucked in deep breaths, trying to steady my racing heart. I just needed a moment to breathe, to clear my head before I completely unraveled. I stopped, leaning heavily against the rough bark of a tree, pressing my forehead against it, willing myself to keep it together.
Slowly, I turned, hoping for a second of peace—then I froze. Alexander stood just a few feet away, his hands casually resting in his slacks, watching me with that calm, almost unsettling confidence. The flames from the burning cross cast flickering shadows across his painted face, making him look both beautiful and terrifying. He observed me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved.
The screams, the chanting, and the moans around us were mere background noise to him.
"You're doing well, Lola.” His gaze swept over me, measuring every trembling breath, every twitch of my hands.
“How could you do this to me?” I asked, the words slipping from my mouth, thick with disbelief.
He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his dark eyes locked on mine. “Do this to you?” he repeated, his voice low and smooth, as though my question was amusing to him.
"I haven’t done anything to you, not really. I’ve only shown you more of our truth—of our home, the Isle, and its ways. Nothing more, nothing less."
I couldn’t pull away in my current state. My body hummed with an odd mixture of heat and numbness, the effects of the drink making it hard to think clearly, to even react the way I knew I should. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly.
“The drink,” I whispered, my voice strained. “You said you'd tell me if you gave me something.”
Alexander stepped even closer, his presence commanding. His hand lifted to my face, his fingers brushing my cheek with the same deliberate control that defined everything about him. “I told you earlier, and I’m telling you now,” he murmured, his voice intimate, as though sharing a secret meant only for the two of us.