The man’s struggles grew frantic as the two hooded disciples tightened their grip on his arms, a pathetic, mewling sound escaping his lips. "No, wait! I changed my mind! Please!"
A fist crashed into his face before he could finish. The sharp crack of knuckles against bone silenced him instantly. His head snapped back, mouth spilling a bitter mix of blood and saliva.
Father Silas tsked, a sound of theatrical disappointment. "Such weakness. Such fleeting conviction. My son, you underestimate the depth of your depravity. You require a thorough purging."
He nodded to his disciples, their faces impassive, their eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight.
They were eager, hungry for this.
Silas had trained them well.
“Begin."
The man’s eyes fluttered, tears mingling with rain and grime
