Ruth felt the heat bloom in her cheeks, a sudden warmth that surged up from her chest. Her eyes flared. Her jaw dropped open in sheer astonishment.

"Wh...what?" she stuttered. "I-I... I don't understand, Your Eminence." Her voice was barely a whisper, her wide eyes transfixed on his piercing gaze.

A thin smile played at the corners of Victor's lips as he watched the young nun squirm. He took in her flushed cheeks, her laboured breathing, and the way her eyes darted about the room - anywhere but at him.

The conflict was to be expected. Ruth had imbibed the teachings of her Faith all her life. Now, she was being asked to ignore all that she had held true. Victor sensed Ruth lingered on the precipice. It would have been easy to lay his hand on her and help her over the edge, but Victor knew she must take that fatal step herself.

The Inquisitor leaned in closer, his voice deepening. "If you wish to prove your devotion to our cause, if you wish to unlock your true potential, you must first learn obedience. I invite you to recall your answers to the questions I asked you. I will wait till you have done so." Victor stepped back and folded his arms.

The growl of a protest curled in Ruth’s throat, but, at Victor’s prompting, his final question, and her answer came to mind.

Ruth had said it. That was beyond doubt. But could she hold herself to it? Thoughts raced about her head like a flock of startled doves. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be right. Yet, deep down, in the darkest recesses of her heart, a part of her yearned to know what the discomfort pooling between her thighs was. She swallowed, her throat like parchment paper.

"I... I... I..."

Father Gavriel held up a single finger, silencing her.

"Do you obey my order? There is only yes or no, Child."

He watched as the muscles in her jaw clenched and unclenched. The battle for control of her very soul waged within her green eyes. Victor had always found this point in an Examination breath-taking. It was the emergence of something, a Rebirth, something vital and winged, tearing at its chrysalis from the inside. What would emerge? Butterfly? Moth? Wasp?

Such a Being had possessed the Bishop: a Succubus. The Inner Council had considered the matter at depth and decreed that only depravity could defeat depravity. Hence, Victor’s mission, and that of the other Hounds despatched across the land. It was crucial that Candidates for the Ecclesia’s most vital mission be trained to deploy those self-same weapons that the Succubus had used to turn the once pious Bishop into a debauched, insatiable Beast that had to be tied to his bed.

But first the Candidates had to be converted to the Cause, all their training undone. This Examination was at a crucial point. Victor continued, urging Ruth on.

"You are hereby absolved of all sins past, present, and future—those known and unknown, those confessed and those yet to be committed - in the name of the Court of Inquisitors and by my divine authority as a Hound of Ecclesia." He traced the sigil of the crucifix in the air. "Your sins are washed away, Ruth Wells... provided you follow my commands. So. Choose. Do you obey? Or no?"

Ruth fought to calm her racing thoughts. But the more she tried to still her mind, the louder the clamour sounded. It felt like there were two distinct voices in her mind, battling for dominance and conflicting with one another. The softer, insistent one sounded like the Mother Superior, speaking as she did when she lectured the Initiates on Scripture.

The voice that answered had the same sound as her own, but it simmered with a resentful energy Ruth would never have thought to use. It railed at the Mother Superior, mocking.

Ruth decided: she would not allow this chance to slip away from her grasp. She had professed Obedience, and obedient she would be. With that silent affirmation, the voices in her head stilled, as if a door had been closed on them. She heard the clang of the bolt slide home and took a deep, sighing breath.

Victor saw it all: the corners of her mouth turned down, her shoulders slumped, her clenched fists opened. He saw it and delighted in it. He thought to speak again, but before he could open his mouth, Ruth’s quivering hands reached behind her back for the fastenings.

In a voice as meek as she could manage, Ruth said, “I obey, my Lord and Master.”

Ruth’s self-affirmation did nothing to quell the disquiet in her body; by the time her habit slipped to the floor, she was all aquiver. Clad only in the flimsy shift all Initiates wore, she dared not look up. She could feel Victor’s eyes on her, taking in every inch of her exposed skin. Her palms were sweaty and her heart pounded in her chest. She felt vulnerable and exposed, as if he could see right into the depths of her soul.

No man had ever beheld her in this state, no man except this one. Whom she had just hailed as her Lord and her Master. And yet, there was a strange thrill running through her veins at the thought of being the sole subject of his Examination.

Victor held his breath, mesmerised, as Ruth's vestments fluttered to the ground like leaves in a violent autumn storm. His hungry gaze roamed every inch, feeding on the sight of her perfect form, even more alluring for being part concealed by the undershirt she wore.

Her body was an exquisite work of art, moulded by the Hand of The Divine. Her breasts tented the sheer fabric, her nipples like ripe berries. Between her hips, the sleek curves of her navel drew the enquiring eye to the barest glimpse of dark curls in half-shadow. Half-revealed and half-exposed, her proximity was intoxicating, even more so that she had complied with so little protest.

Victor found his manhood stirring. “Well done, Child.” His voice sounded rough. He cleared his throat. “Turn around. Face the door so that I may see all of you.”

Ruth had to exert all her will to resist covering her body with her hands. The Inquisitor’s approval was as balm to a fresh wound; it soothed her turmoil, making it easier for Ruth to justify it to herself. Obeying the Inquisitor was akin to obeying God and refusal just as grievous. Her Obedience had led her to Sin, and Sin had led to instant Absolution. Now, the price of her ascension did not seem dear at all, and the next step not so difficult.

Ruth did not hesitate. She took a gentle half-step back before turning to face the door.

To Victor, a mesmerising new panorama stretched out before him. The arch of Ruth’s spine drew his eyes down to the swell of her buttocks. A primal urge coursed through him. His hands clenched and unclenched with the desire to grab Ruth’s cheeks, to palm her flesh and feel it quiver. He yearned to dig his nails into her, an indelible mark to claim this uncharted territory for his own. Victor’s assertion of his power over Ruth’s will was complete. All that remained was to possess her body as well. But now was the time for praise.

“Excellent.” He kept his voice clinical. “I see no obvious defect. You are a near-perfect embodiment of womanhood. You have pleased God, and he has gifted you with beauty. As has been written in the Chant of Solmon, Chapter 4, Verse 7: ‘You are altogether beautiful, my darling, and there is no blemish in you.’”

Ruth shuddered, heat coursing through her at the mention of the word ‘beautiful’. That she should be thought so, and by such an exalted as an Inquisitor! She lowered her head and mouthed a quiet “Thank you, my Lord.” She might have said more, had Victor given her space, but the Inquisitor’s next command came readily on.

“Turn around. Face me again. Open your eyes.”

Ruth complied. The look on the Inquisitor’s face resembled those she had seen in paintings of martyrs as they are put to the fire.

This must be what Passion looks like, she told herself. I am truly Blessed.

Victor smiled at her. "The Lord has blessed you with womanly beauty, spiritual knowledge, and obedience. Now do I see that the Reverend Mother was wise to select you. I am pleased with you, my Child.”

A smile bloomed on Ruth's face. She blushed and bit her lower lip, an innocent enough gesture that made Victor's manhood twitch. In that moment, he would have liked nothing better than to pin her to the floor and stuff it into her mouth, but there was much ground yet to prepare. Yet, the intensity of the moment made it difficult for the Inquisitor to focus on the task. With great effort, Victor redirected his thoughts, his voice steady and deliberate.

“Now, we must proceed to the next. I am required to make a more detailed examination. I now command you, Pupil, to remove the remainder of your clothing. I must inspect you in your primal state, as Aive appeared before God in the Garden of Aidan. Proceed. Slowly. Begin.”

To Ruth, the seconds that passed between her knocking at the door and hearing the command to enter seemed an eternity. A flurry of thoughts raced through her head.

Had the Inquisitor changed his mind? Had he chosen some other? Was Ruth no longer worthy? Ruth felt disappointment pluck at her breast, grappling with hope. Surely, the Inquisitor would at least give her a chance to prove herself worthy for this holy mission?

"Enter," came the deep male voice from the other side. Ruth let out a sigh of relief. Steeling herself, putting on her most neutral yet appeasing expression, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, her eyes on the floor. As she dared raise them, she almost screamed at what she saw.

Sitting, staring at her, was the figure of a man, but nothing like any she had ever seen. He sat in an ornate chair behind a great desk, a frightful apparition in a black cloak. The golden mask seemed to growl at her, its fangs glittering in the firelight. The eyes within were alive but shadowy. They stared at her, but whether in invitation or warning, she could not tell. Fear flared in her chest. The urge to turn and run was strong, but something fixed her in place. She knew, without being told, that this was part of the exalted Examination. Should she flee, or show any outward sign of disquiet, she was sure to be found unworthy.

Gathering her courage, she took a single step forward, then another, then a third, before lowering her gaze and kneeling in front of the figure. She took a breath, dared open her mouth and speak.

"My Lord, I greet you in God’s name. I am the Initiate Sister Ruth, sent to you by the Mother Superior, and at your service.” Panic fluttered in her breast: was that presumption, to speak first, to introduce herself? Should she have waited for him to speak? She bit her lip, swallowed her fear and lowered her head, staring at the flagstones.

Victor had seen the fear bloom in Ruth’s face as she stepped into the room, a momentary glimpse before she regained composure. This pleased him. The ability to regulate emotion would be important for the chosen candidate.

He was pleased too, that she knelt, without prompting, as was correct, and offered her name and title, lowly as it was. The girl’s voice had a pleasing husky quality, as though the depths of the earth had swallowed her. And she waited, again correctly, for him to speak.

Victor did not respond straight away. He took his time inspecting the girl kneeling before him. He liked what he saw. Her complexion was flawless, her face a near perfect oval shape; not the sickly pale countenance of the natives of this northern clime. Some exotic blood coursed through her veins, evident in the slight olive tinge of her skin, the slant of her eyes, and the intense hue of green in her irises. From the way the fabric of her habit stretched over her breasts as she breathed, Victor extrapolated her curvaceous form. Her fingernails were clean and her wrists strong. That was all he could see, for now, and it was sufficient.

“Welcome, child,” he said in as neutral a tone as he could muster. “You know who I am, clearly. The Mother Superior has informed you. That is good. For clarity, though, I will explain, as this is a formal proceeding. It is important that there be no misunderstanding. Attend.”

He saw her chin rise, her gaze rise to lock with his. That brief flare of anxiety again. Good.

“I am Father Gavriel Victor. I am here at the behest of the Ecclesia Nova, specifically the Court of Inquisitors at the Holy See in Londinium. My mission is to locate a pure young woman for an incredibly important task. The stakes are high; its success is paramount for the preservation of our Faith. The person we seek must be someone who has not only a deep understanding of The Faith but also an upright character, diligence, spirit, obedience and, above all else, courage. She must face the trials that follow with endurance and devotion. What lies ahead of the candidate will challenge her physically and mentally. It will test her Faith and imperil her soul. The chosen must be strong."

He paused for effect.

"After consideration, the Mother Superior has concluded that you might be a fitting candidate. So you have been summoned. I am required to Examine you and ascertain if Mother Aida’s decision was indeed correct. If I find it to be so, you will travel with me to Londinium for further Examination."

He let his words sink in. Ruth's gaze dropped to the floor, her breathing quickened. Victor's manhood stirred.

“Tell me, Ruth, do you consider yourself to be such a person? If so, why? And if not, why has the Mother Superior erred so in her judgement? Tell me, also, of your birth, your upbringing and what called you to the Faith. And why here, in this place?”

Victor had found that an open question was best to begin any interrogation. Indeed, the Inquisitor’s Handbook, “De Inquisitione”, recommended such an approach. It allowed the Examined opportunity to fashion their own noose with their own words and hang themselves. Hedging the question with jeopardy added to the subject’s stress. If Ruth were to answer that she was not a suitable candidate, she would disrespect the Mother Superior. And if she answered 'Yes', well, that would be fair grounds for deeper enquiry. The question had no easy answer, as it carried risks no matter how Ruth approached it. 

“You may speak,” Victor said. He sat back in his chair, curious to see what answer she would make.