Page 15 of Semper
“Why did he allow that to happen in the first place?” I couldn't help but ask, struggling to make sense of it.
“Electi," Selena called softly, addressing me formally. "We do not allow or disallow anything. We followDiabolus’ will and word.”
Keres, who had resigned herself to sitting back down, finally spoke again, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “All that devotion, Selena, hasn’t gotten you any closer to being his bride.”
Selena laughed lightly; her composure unshaken. Instead of lashing out, she maintained the same unnerving calm as always, her face a mask of serenity. "Devotion is not measured in proximity to power, Keres."
“Sounds like a convenient excuse for being nothing but a fuck buddy,” Keres countered.
Seraphine’s voice cut in. “That’s enough. Talking like that is beyond disrespectful—not only to Acolyte Selena but to Impío,Diabolus, and your sister.”
I took it to mean I was the sister in question. “I don’t feel disrespected,” I interjected, the words coming out before Icould think better of it. “Alexander already told me about her.” Speaking his name when they avoided it felt bold.
Selena’s smile remained calm, devoid of malice. “I’m glad you two have progressed to that point,” she said smoothly. “That means you should understand your role even better now, Electi.”
Seraphine nodded in agreement. “That’s right. We all serve a purpose. Yours is so important—all of you.”
The conversation felt pointless. I shook my head, turning my gaze back down into the Chapel.
Nicolette’s mangled mouth flashed in my mind, bloodied and raw, her life now one of silence. I swallowed hard.
And it wasn’t over.
Not even close.
The next person—a young man, his face pale and trembling—was brought forward. Phoenix raised his arm, and the crowd went silent. Unlike Nicolette, this man’s punishment would not be about silencing him but breaking his spirit. Phoenix’s voice echoed through the Chapel as he listed the man’s transgressions. “For questioning the tenets of Impío… for doubting the path… you shall now be marked as a heretic until you prove to be devout once more."
The masked figure beside him approached with a branding iron, its tip glowing a fierce orange. The man’s eyes widened in terror, but he didn’t scream. His lips moved in silent prayer, begging for mercy that wouldn’t come.
They tore the front of his shirt open and exposed his bare chest, revealing skin already slick with sweat and fear. The iron pressed against him, and the sickening sound of burning flesh filled the Chapel, filtering into the room where I was forced to witness the act.
He gritted his teeth, his entire body shaking as the brand seared his chest, marking him as a traitor. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I watched helplessly. Thencame the final person, a woman. Her beauty was radiant, close to breathtaking. She had flawless dark skin and shoulder-length black hair, dressed in the more elegant garments of the Isle.
I watched and listened closely, wondering what it was that had landed her in this position. Seraphine remained beside me, and observed in silence, her eyes reflecting the ceremony below.
The woman’s crime was one of betrayal—plotting to leave the Isle without permission, to abandon the only life they allowed her to know.
Alexander took over this time and spoke with even more venom in his voice than before. “For seeking freedom from your husband where none exists, you will now wear the weight of your choices."
Two masked figures stepped forward, bringing iron shackles attached to chains. The woman’s eyes widened, but she remained still as she was shackled like a damn prisoner by her wrists and ankles. Her posture faltered and her limbs trembled, but she did not fold.
"This is a mercy granted by ourDiabolus," Emilio, though I hadn’t realized he was the other masked figure yet—spoke firmly. “Your husband, the master of your dominion, knelt beforeDiabolusto plead for this chance. Do not waste it.”
Alexander touched the man on the shoulder and took over again, his voice filling the space without him having to yell. "This punishment is contingent upon her conceiving within the next six months," he continued. "She must demonstrate absolute atonement and submit herself to reeducation—learning her true role as a wife and disciple."
There was a reverent murmur of agreement from the masked congregation. Every word was absorbed as though it was gospel. Bishop, his masked face inscrutable, gestured for the woman to express her gratitude. "Show yourDiabolushow grateful you are," he demanded.
Tears filled the woman’s eyes as she turned to face Alexander and lowered herself slowly to her knees, chains clanking against the floor. She pressed her lips to the hem of his ceremonial robe, her voice breaking as she murmured loud enough for all to hear.
"Thank you,Diabolus, for your mercy."
With a measured grace, Alexander reached down, gently lifting her chin.
His fingers caressed her face, a touch that sent a ripple through the congregation, their audible gasps filling the Chapel. The woman clutched his hand, her body trembling as though his touch had infused her with life. The congregation’s cries of reverence and worship grew louder as if Alexander’s touch was some kind of divine intervention—in a completely twisted way.
“Do you see the devotion he commands?” Selena whispered in awe.
The woman was raised to her feet by Alexander and then led away by a masked nun, walking on her own but clearly drained, the weight of her punishment hanging heavy around her like the chains she now wore. As she disappeared from sight, the atmosphere in the Chapel shifted, and Alexander’s voice filled the space again.