Innocence Sacrificed

I know why you're here. And I can help you.

Sister Dorothee's head jerked up. She was sure she had heard the voice that had spoken the sentence. But she couldn't make out where it had come from. She suspected that the statue had spoken to her, although it seemed completely motionless and had not moved its lips. What was going on here?

I will help you, but there is a price to pay.

Now she was quite sure. Although the words had formed just behind her forehead, it could not be any other way than that they came from the rigid figure enthroned before her. She could already imagine what kind of prize the thing had in mind. All she had to do was look at the shameful display of her predecessors' bodies.

“No, I will never do that.”

Her voice sounded firmer than she felt. At the same time, she realized that she couldn't fool anyone here. Neither him, nor herself.

Oh, yeah? Then why are you here?

“Did I ever have a choice? I see right through you, demon. You set a trap to lure me down here. And now you're playing a trick on me to shake my steadfastness. But no. I will not give up my virtue.”

The laughter that echoed in her skull was the most terrifying sound she had ever heard.

Everyone you see here had spat the same words at me. And yet, in the end, they realized what their duty was. Or are you so full of arrogance that you think you alone can put your own welfare above that of your order? Your convent and the community in which you live would have crumbled and been forgotten long ago if these women had not sacrificed themselves to secure its future. Do you think you are better than them?

Dorothee's resolve wavered. The arguments made sense in a twisted way. She closed her eyes and tried to find peace and certainty within herself. But all she found was restlessness and self-doubt.

“I'll do it!”

Horrified, Sister Dorothee looked sideways at her companion, who had stood up with folded hands and was looking resolutely into the demon's unblinking eyes. Her “No!” was drowned out by the roaring laughter that rang in her ears.

The figure rose. Cold stone became warm flesh. Joints and muscles stretched and relaxed after centuries of rigidity. He towered over the petite Sister Innocenza. He reached out a hand and stroked her cheek with unexpected tenderness. The young nun trembled under his touch.

“Oh, you are so innocent,” the demon chuckled softly.

“No,” Dorothee whispered. Unspeakable horror had seized her. Innocenza, the innocent, was not allowed to sacrifice herself for something she was responsible for. But how could she avert this sacrifice?