Chapter 1
"Oh Ombrithar, beloved Mother, I pray You, please bless the suit Sir Ewan wore today. I beg most sincerely, for I could almost feel its suffering as it strained so valiantly to contain him. Every creature, every leaf of the forest, every grain of humble soil has received Your grace. Therefore, I entreat You, bless also Sir Ewan's suit, that it may know relief."
I knelt with the utmost reverence before the towering statue of Ombrithar, positioned just beyond the altar. Her divine likeness was so luminous. Surely She was listening. Yes, I felt it deep within my soul. She was listening to me.
A cough intruded upon my solemn moment. I turned with gentle alarm. "Sister Alethea," I whispered with earnest concern, "are you quite well? Should we seek Father Sorin at once so that he may offer a cure?"
Sister Alethea placed her palm wearily over her face. My heart stumbled. Illness was no trifling matter. I sprang to my feet, my pulse quickening with dread.
"Oh no, remain here," she groaned.
"Sister Alethea," I gasped as she caught me firmly by the sleeve and pulled me back to my knees. "You must not delay if you are unwell."
"I am not ill," she sighed heavily. "I am simply astonished you have prayed for a suit."
I pressed my hand over my chest as relief washed over me. "Oh, praise be," I whispered. "You quite frightened me. But Sister Alethea, surely even the most delicate of fabrics deserves mercy and blessing."
She stared at me in stunned silence before her lips parted in yet another weary sigh. "Sir Ewan wore that suit to accentuate his muscles. Did you truly not perceive that?"
My brows furrowed confusion. "To accentuate his muscles?"
She rose as though the weight of the conversation had drained her entirely. "Never mind. Oh, and yes, today is your nineteenth birthday, is it not?" With a teasing smile, she pulled me up to stand beside her. "I have a gift for you."
My heart warmed instantly, the glow of affection spreading through my chest. "You are far too kind, Sister Alethea. May Ombrithar bless you for many long years to come."
She offered me no reply, only seized my wrist with eagerness. I could scarce keep pace as she hastened toward the back door of the nave. My curiosity bloomed ever greater with every step. Whatever could her gift be?
We traversed the long corridor where the walls stood solemnly adorned with polished wooden doors, each belonging to the private quarters of our fellow Sisters. I had always admired how uniformly the doors stood, each precisely the same respectful distance from the next. Behind them, each chamber was modest yet dignified, containing two sturdy beds, two nightstands, two simple dressers, and one gracefully carved vanity.
At last we reached the very end of the corridor where our own chamber resided, the last door to the right. Upon entering, Sister Alethea shut the door with swift determination and, to my astonishment, proceeded to lock it. My wonder doubled.
Without delay she crossed to her bed and from beneath it withdrew what seemed at first glance to be a sheet of paper. She held it aloft with visible delight, I discerned the painted hues upon it.
"Happy nineteenth birthday! At long last we are of the same age!" she declared with joy.
The painting was then brought within mere inches of my face and I stared. The gentleman depicted therein wore no clothing whatsoever.
An unbearable heat surged across my cheeks as I staggered backward, my heart beating most furiously. Oh merciful Ombrithar, I have sinned most terribly.
"This," Sister Alethea announced with a most radiant smile as she held the offending paper aloft in one hand and with the other motioned quite brazenly toward the shocking fleshy prominence situated most immodestly between the gentleman's legs, "is what a man uses to insert into a woman's sex. Surely you understand the general principle for you must know how you came into this world, but I considered it my duty to educate you upon its precise appearance."
She tapped the paper with enthusiasm. "Behold his testicles. Observe closely!" With that, she pressed the paper so near my face I feared the image would imprint upon my very soul. "They are enormous."
I stumbled backward once more, flung myself upon my knees beside my bed, pressed my trembling elbows against the mattress, and wove my fingers together tightly in frantic prayer. I squeezed my eyes shut as horror and deep anxiety overtook me. My words spilled forth in earnest desperation.
"Oh Ombrithar, please forgive me, for I gazed unwillingly. It was not my intention, I swear it. I was ambushed, deceived by the suddenness of such scandalous imagery. I beseech You, forgive Sister Alethea as well for though her sin is undoubtedly the greater, I pray You extend mercy to us both. Cleanse our eyes, oh benevolent Mother, for we are but weak vessels seeking Your divine grace."
I rose in a flurry of terrified purpose, flung open the drawer of my nightstand, and withdrew the small glass vial I had guarded so reverently. It was no larger than my palm and contained precious holy water blessed by The Chosen One himself the previous year. I had preserved it most faithfully for a dire moment. Surely, this was such a time.
Beads of cold sweat formed upon my face. My fingers trembled as I hastily removed the stopper. What if Ombrithar refused me absolution? What if I remained forever stained by such unspeakable impropriety? My thoughts raced as my breath quickened.
"Oh Ombrithar, I beg of You, grant me mercy." Without further hesitation, I tilted my face upward, widened my eyes as far as they would open, and poured the holy water directly upon them.
At once my eyes burned with such unforgiving ferocity that I stumbled backward in blind dismay.
"Sister Naevia! What in the name of Ombrithar have you done?" Sister Alethea exclaimed, reaching out hastily to steady me.
My eyes stung most dreadfully, yet my distress did not solely arise from the physical torment. No, it was the grave weight of sin upon our souls. There was but one course left to me. Determined to secure mercy for us both through the blur of my relentless blinking, I knew what must be done. The vial of holy water still held a precious remnant.
With unwavering resolve, I turned to Sister Alethea and in a most decisive gesture, splashed the remaining blessed liquid directly into her eyes.
"Uahhh!" she cried, her hands flying to her face as she collapsed upon the wooden floorboards.
I fell at once to my knees beside her and gathered both her hands in my trembling ones. I bowed my head, shut my eyes, and began to pray aloud in urgent supplication.
"Oh most gracious Ombrithar, please forgive us, we have sinned most grievously. Cleanse not only our vision but also our wayward minds. Draw us back into the warm embrace of the righteous path. Do not abandon Your devoted servants in this hour of trial."
A soft whimper escaped Sister Alethea as she remained crumpled at my side.
"Sister Naevia," she murmured weakly, "why are you like this?"
---
The new day had unfurled itself. The pale dawn light crept into our modest chamber, casting its cool gaze upon the woeful spectacle presented before the vanity. Sister Alethea and I sat side by side, gazing solemnly upon our pitiful reflections. I dare not speak ill of my beloved Sister Alethea, yet I must confess that she did appear as though her soul had already bid farewell to this earthly realm.
We had only just risen from our rest and remained in our simple nightgowns, yet to don the blessed garments of our holy station. The silken blue strands of Sister Alethea's hair protruded rebelliously in disjointed disarray. The whites of her eyes had turned an alarming shade of pink. My own reflection gave me no comfort. My long golden locks lay as they ought, but my green eyes appeared most ghastly indeed set against the dreadful pinkness that now plagued them.
"Sister Naevia, I believe our eyes have become most distressingly infected," Sister Alethea said dryly.
I turned to her in urgency. "Sister Alethea," I whispered nervously, nudging her arm, "holy water does not infect. It is blessed. It is sanctified. You must at once offer a prayer to Ombrithar. She has merely not forgiven us, that is all."
"Perhaps it has passed its prime." Sister Alethea said dryly again.
Before I could respond, the door flew open with such force that both Sister Alethea and I let out startled cries of alarm.
In the doorway stood Sister Juliara, a young woman of our age. "In the name of our radiant Mother Ombrithar, what has happened to your eyes? Both of you! And why are you still in your nightgowns? The royal family have arrived without announcement. Everyone is gathered in the courtyard. You must be swift."
Without another word, Sister Juliara vanished from sight in a flurry of hurried steps. Sister Alethea and I sat quite stunned for a brief moment before promptly falling into a flustered scramble, dressing ourselves. We did not even perform our morning ablutions, which struck me as terribly improper, yet time showed us no mercy.
Once my buttons were at last aligned and my veil not entirely crooked, I turned to make for the door but hesitated, my hand stilling upon the handle as a new thought took hold.
"You go on ahead, Sister Alethea," I said. "I must… I must tend to something first."
"Fine, fine. Just be swift about it."
I nodded rapidly, and with that, she swept past and disappeared.
The sinful illustration. It yet remained hidden under Sister Alethea's bed. I could not, in any state of conscience, abandon such an object of impropriety within the sanctity of these walls while the royal family walked amongst us. My sense of duty and piety would not permit it.
I fell to my knees and reached hesitantly beneath Sister Alethea's bed. My fingers closed around the offending sheet, which I withdrew and crumpled at once without daring to examine its wicked contents.
I sped from the chamber, but not toward the courtyard. Instead, I turned swiftly toward the nave. I reasoned with frantic determination that no soul would be present at this hour, and I might thus destroy this disgraceful thing upon the altar before the very gaze of Ombrithar Herself. Only then would I deem myself worthy to stand in the presence of the blessed royal family.
I reached the great door to the nave. With great trepidation I pressed it open. My pulse stilled and I froze, struck motionless.
Oh, Ombrithar, my beloved and most merciful Mother, not only have You withheld forgiveness from my sinful heart, You have instead chosen to confront me with a vision yet more wicked and impossible than my feeble mind could bear. My heart ached with the weight of it.
For there, before my eyes, sat a vision the likes of which no mortal tongue could adequately describe.
Seated upon the front pew to the left of the nave, directly a few feet away from me, was a woman of such astonishing beauty that for a fleeting moment, I believed she must be a spirit or enchantress summoned from another realm. Her delicate face bore an expression of exquisite abandon, one so ill-fitted to our sacred chapel it was blasphemous. Her golden eyes were heavy-lidded, swimming in a haze of rapture, and her teeth held her lower lip as though to keep her pleasure from spilling forth too freely.
Her long red hair fell in soft, sultry waves, glowing like firelight as it framed her bare shoulders. She wore a white lace gown that clung to her body in shameless delicacy. The garment hung low about her bosom. Her chest rose and fell with every quiet gasp.
Oh, Ombrithar.
The hem of her dress had risen to her hips, revealing all. There was nothing beneath but her garter belt and those pale silk stockings clinging to her thighs. There, between her long legs laid an appendage intended for a man and yet so cruelly placed upon the divine figure of a woman. There were no testicles present at the base, unlike the illustration.
The woman's hardened member was fair, matching the hue of her silken skin, and stood in proud defiance, glistening tenderly at its peak. From it, a long crystal thread of longing trembled, as though it might fall with the softest breath.
The sheer magnitude of it caused me to falter, it was at least double size of the illustration. Its breadth rivalled the delicate span of her forearm, and the length… oh, dearest Ombrithar.
Soft, peculiar sounds, wholly unfamiliar to my ears, slipped from her lips. They were quiet, yet drawn out, like the faintest melody of something I could not comprehend. Her delicate hands moved over her most private place with a rhythm both tender and insistent. My face flushed with heat. I felt as though I had been caught peering into a private world meant for no other eyes but hers.
I do not believe she noticed me, though the distance between us was dreadfully near. She appeared entirely consumed by her own forbidden longing. Her left hand continued its languid motion, drawing long strokes along her length, while her right rose to the apex of her desire. There, her fingers encircled it, sliding over the crown in tender repetition as her breath quickened.
"Haa… hgh…" her delicate voice trembled, her strokes became more urgent.
My foot shifted, ready to turn and escape before her gaze could find mine.
But her eyes opened fully. And they found me. My heart pounded.
I had seen her before, distantly, always surrounded by silks and guards. There was no mistaking her.
Yseldra Valebrinth. Princess of Dunverra. She is two years my senior.