A judgement

Chanel steps forward and sheds her robe, standing naked for a moment before climbing onto the altar. She lays on her back, her hands clasped on her belly, her ankles together, looking as delicious as she did earlier today. She stares up at the ceiling, biting her lip as though to calm her nervousness.

"Sister Chanel, last night you were reprimanded for creating a disturbance, shouting into the night, speaking of events better not spoken of. Then within minutes of leaving this enclave, you did the same thing. And then again at mid-day. What have you to say?"

"Mother Minerva I beg pardon," Chanel answers in a quavering voice. "I received two packages, referring to...to events...And I was frightened. I lost control. I am deeply sorry Mother."

"Your weakness has aroused the suspicions of Dean Hawkfeather. Sister Newton has reported as much. And what did you say to him? Or to Mister Sharp?"

"I said that it was a prank Mother. A prank by jealous girls. And I distracted Mr. Sharp, much as Sister Margot distracted Mr. Carter. I am sure that he thinks no more of this Mother."

"Are you Sister Chanel? I am not so sure. You have been very indiscreet my child."

"Yes Mother. I am deeply sorry. I ask your pardon Mother. Your pardon and that of all assembled here."

"Pardon was granted you last night Sister Chanel. And yet you are here for similar cause. It would seem that your commitment to the Sisterhood is a fragile and malleable thing. Mother Salus, the Chalice of Probity."

The other red robed figure steps forward with a large goblet, going to each acolyte in turn and making them drink. Finally she reaches Chanel, who drains the goblet as smoke begins to waft into the room.

You catch a whiff of a faint fruity aroma, and feel a humid moisture on your skin as the 'smoke' reaches you. Dry ice. Looks like they’re going to be putting on a show.

Mother Salus gestures to Chanel's prone body, and four robed Sisters step forward and bind her to the altar, parting her thighs to expose her fully. Chanel whimpers but makes no other protest, her face slack and unfocused. As they step back they seem to be having trouble keeping their balance, and you wonder what was in that drink.

Mother Minerva steps to the front of the dais, throwing her hood back to show she is also wearing a white mask. She points at Chanel's bound body then raises her arms in supplication.

"It is the Time of Summoning!" she intones.

"The Summoning!" answer the Sisters in unison.

"To Whom Belongs this Flesh?"

"He Who Will Come."

"What Shall He Do?"

"Take What Is His."

"How Shall He Travel?"

"By Scale and Claw."

"What Shall We Give Him?

"All That We Have."

"What is He Called?"

"Lacerta Rex!" the final response was an almost exultant shriek as Chanel writhes on the altar. Then there was nothing but silence thickening fog and flickering candles.

And then you hear the sound of clicking, like claws tapping on tile, and the sound of dry leaves blowing.