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.”