The stone walls of the prayer room were cold and damp.
THWACK.
The whip lashed against his spine, landing with a muffled thud.
'It isn't as painful as I'd imagined.'
Fabian knelt before the statue, his bare torso covered in a crisscrossing web of bloody welts. A mixture of sweat and blood slid down his spine, dripping onto an open letter on the floor and blurring the ink.
Estimated three thousand deaths.
Sales of Holy Water up by forty percent.
Every word on that letter had become a red-hot branding iron, searing his mind.
THWACK.
Another lash. Droplets of blood flew, splattering onto the statue's cold instep.
Fabian tossed the whip aside and collapsed to the floor. He lifted his head, staring at the merciful face of the God of Holy Radiance.
Carved from stone.
All of it carved from stone.
No matter if a believer knelt until their knees were raw or kowtowed until their forehead was broken, this stone would not shed a single tear.
"Why..."
