Page 60 of Semper
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 wassomething 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.
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 takeover, 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’tdoneanything 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 thedrink 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.
My breath hitched, a sob catching in my throat as the chaos of the night pressed in on me—Emilia’s screams, the music, the distant moans of the congregation. My mind was in a state of turmoil, everything twisted into a nauseating haze of fear, disgust, and a torturous undercurrent of need that I couldn't ignore. Before I could even form a single thought, he pressed himself against me from behind, his body radiating heat as he pinned me between the rough bark of the tree and his looming figure.
"Watch," he commanded softly, his breath skirting over my ear. Through the darkness and shadows, I had an unobstructed view of the dais, the flaming cross holding the remains of Emilia's charred body, and the figures writhing below it in a sickening dance. My heart raced as I watched the grotesque ritual unfold before us, the stench of burning flesh filling the air like a tangible force.
My eyes locked onto Jamison, seated on a stone bench with Cassandra straddling him. Her body moved against him in a grotesque parody of intimacy, riding him as his lover burned alive in front of them. It scarcely registered he was fucking his sister. A sound caught in my throat, somewhere between a gasp and a cry, as I tore my gaze away, only to see others following suit—couples and groups shamelessly indulging in one another,their bodies entwined in plain sight beneath the flickering firelight. The air was thick with lust, smoke, and the scent of burning flesh.