In the colorful dusk of the chapel, Pricilla clutched a candle in her hands and pretended to be deep in prayer while at the same time secretly looking around. She had awakened especially early since morning and evening were the times when the Twilight Mass for both Lustris and Norn was held. Considering the brutal and barbaric nature of the people of Norden, it was logical that most of them would prefer worshiping the Father of Darkness, the ruler of the flesh and the mundane, before the Father of Light, who reigned over spiritual enlightenment and healing. Still, she was also not so desperate as of yet to participate in the Dark Mass at midnight, so the Twilight Mass was supposed to be the perfect time to meet the castle’s inhabitants, show her piety, and test Bessie’s hex, killing two birds with one stone. Or at least that was the plan.

“From Night to Day, from Day to Night.” The voice of the chaplain droned under the vaulted ceiling. “From Life to Death, from Death a Life. The benevolence of the Two Fathers is a circle with no beginning or end, and every soul is welcomed in their embrace. Lux-Nostris!”

“Lux-Nostris!” repeated three dissonant voices in the empty chapel.

Pricilla had to give her best not to roll her eyes. Except for the priest and that white-haired banshi or whatever those snow-demons were called, there was only one more person in the chapel. Her consolation prize. She could hardly forget that handsome boyish face surrounded by neat, brown locks. It was the youth that had been by Lorelei’s side during their encounter in the castle garden. What was his name? Castor?

Dressed in a gray robe tied at the waist with a simple rope belt and barefooted like one of the Church’s novices, with a pendant of the Two Gods hanging from his neck, the young man was kneeling on the hard floor with his eyes closed. The flame of the candle he was holding waned and jittered from his breath as his full lips silently mouthed the tedious prayers.

As the mass ended, the youth blew his candle and pressed the pendant to his lips before going to have a chat with the priest. Pricilla couldn’t hear their conversation, but it didn’t matter. She was preoccupied with eyeing Castor. From her experience yesterday and the way the chaplain was conducting himself around him, it was likely that the young man was of noble birth. And how else it could be, considering his fine features and lean build that even the coarse habit couldn’t hide. His graceful moves and elegant posture could be ranked equal to the high nobility in Limris. If only that damn Beast could look like him, and have a tenth of his refinement, she wouldn’t have such a hard time accepting her task and bedding him.

Exchanging a few final words, Castor kissed the chaplain’s hand and his pendant and slowly walked towards the exit, his bare feet hardly making a sound on the granite slabs. Pricilla blew out her candle, hastily gave the priest her final greeting, and rushed after the youth. Outside of the chapel, she took off her slippers and threw them at Bessie.

“Bring them back to my room and wait for me there.”

Without waiting for a reply, she hurried on. When she caught up with Castor at the foot of a nearby staircase, her mind was still busy with the finishing touches of her plan. It was going to be an excellent test of the effects of her infatuation-sigil. And besides… one could see it as gathering experience for her future task. Taking a couple of quick breaths and vigorously rubbing her cheeks, she weakly called his name.

“Master Castor! Please, wait!”

As the young man slowed his step and turned around perplexed, Pricilla halted panting before him.

“Lady Orten?” His brows arched briefly before locking into a frown. “What business do you have with me?”

“I… Just wanted to have a talk. Why are you acting with such animosity?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude.” Castor flinched but managed to regain his composure. “However, we are neither acquainted nor have been officially introduced, so I can’t imagine what could prompt this encounter.”

“Isn’t sharing a love for the Two Gods enough of a reason?”

“Forgive me, but I somehow doubt your devotion, as well as your motifs.”

“But why!?” Pricilla’s eyelashes fluttered.

“In the Holy Scriptures, it is said ‘Love your next of kin like you love thyself’. The way you treated Her Highness yesterday was by far not sisterly.”

“You… are right.” Pricilla lowered her head and her shoulders slumped. “I did something terrible… Accusing my dear sister of trying to harm me. But I was scared.”

“Scared?”

“Yes.” She sniffled. “I’ve never seen my sister acting like this. Believing a maid’s story without even a hint of a doubt. Ignoring my words. Hitting people. Dragging someone forcefully away. It wasn’t like her, so when she grabbed me, I thought… that she really wanted to hurt me!”

“I sympathize with you, Lady Orten.” Castor’s voice softened. “But you should know your sister better than this. She couldn’t harm a fly, let alone her own flesh and blood.”

“You are right.” Pricilla squeezed a couple of tears and lifted her wet face, smiling shyly at the youth. “I should have known better. But I’ve heard so many… disturbing things about Norden… Forgive me, but I need to be honest. For a moment, I thought that my dear sister was under a malicious spell! She never wrote back home since she came here. She greeted us so coldly despite us being her family. And then this… It’s like there was a different person before me.”

A soft handkerchief touched her cheek. All the animosity and doubt were gone from Castor’s face as he gently dried her tears.

“No need to worry, Lady Orten. Her Highness is well-guarded from malicious spirits and magic. I’m sure that what happened yesterday was a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, thank you, Master Castor. And please, call me Pricilla.” She shyly touched his fingers and was delighted to see him blush. “You have no idea how relieved I am. After all, this was my main concern that made me seek the Two Fathers’ help today.”

Saying this, she lowered her eyes and Castor followed her gaze before exclaiming:

“Your feet!”

She touched his hand timidly and her lashes fluttered.

“I told you, Master Castor. I too share the same love for the Two Fathers, just like you. I’m so happy to find a kindred spirit so far away from home.”

The youth stared at her, unblinking. Pricilla could see the fight between suspicion and trust written on his face. He frowned and his dark eyes squinted.

“Light?” he mumbled and blinked, a momentary confusion washing over his face. “N-no…”

Pricilla stiffened. For a second, Castor’s features twisted as if in pain, but his expression immediately smoothened and became tranquil and dreamy.

“Yes…” His voice was soft. “Indeed. The light of Lustris shines especially strong in you, Lady Orten. It almost blinded me.”

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“You are flattering me!” Pricilla heaved a sigh of relief. She let go of Castor’s hand and curtsied shyly. “I should be on my way.”

She stepped back and winced very convincingly.

“My lady!” He rushed to her and made her lean on his shoulder. “You aren’t used to running barefoot! Why did you even do this?”

“I came to pray for my sister’s safety. I thought that if I showed enough sincerity, The Two Fathers would hear my prayers and protect her. I’m willing to pay my tribute for their benevolence.”

“Still, it was a poor choice.” Without saying anything else, Castor scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to the chapel.

“M-my lord! What are you doing?!” Pricilla pretended to struggle while biting her lips to stop a smile.

“I’ll treat your feet first and then look for someone to bring you shoes. Why isn’t your maid with you?”

“Poor Bessie was so tired. I couldn’t wake her up so early.”

Castor just snorted and shook his head.

As they entered the darkness of the chapel, there wasn’t a living soul to be seen. With a confident step, he brought her to a small, windowless room in the back where the priest kept the mass dishes, incense burners, and clothes. There was a very low stool, a table, and a few crates and cupboards, but the thick, stone walls were barren of any decoration.

After musing for a moment, Castor carefully put Pricilla on the table before darting around, collecting supplies. He procured some fresh linen, a small knife, and a bowl that he filled with something suspiciously looking like holy water.

“The priest and the Two Fathers will understand. It’s an emergency,” he muttered, trying to placate his guilty conscience.

“Could…” Pricilla bit her lip. “Could you please close the door? I don’t want anyone to spy on us and get… the wrong impression.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Obediently closing the heavy oak door, he knelt before Pricilla and began washing her feet. She could see that every time he touched her bare skin, his face grew redder and redder. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t notice the smirk twisting her lips. Either the infatuation-sigil was doing its job, or it was the call of his youthful blood. She needed to go further.

“Master Castor.” She played with the ribbons that secured the bodice of her outer dress. “When I saw you yesterday, you were wearing secular clothing. Why are you donning a habit today?”

“Because I will be joining the clergy in due time. My secular life is just a postponement of my vocation to serve the Two Gods.”

“Such great devotion!” She pulled the end of the ribbons, loosening her bodice. Afterward, there was no need to do much more than a small shrug. With the lack of support from her outer garment, the rim of her chemise dropped down her shoulders, revealing her breasts in all their glory. “But since you are a noble's son, you will be joining the lower clergy and starting a family, right?”

“I was actually planning to join the Pure Orders,” mumbled Castor, engulfed in his task.

“Really? But don't you have any doubts? Wouldn’t you be missing the joys of life? The joys… of a woman?”

With glee, she saw the redness spreading from his face to his neck and beyond his collar.

“I-it’s hardly a topic to discuss with a l-lady. But, as it’s said in the Scriptures, ‘It shall not be tempted he, who does not know the taste of temptation.’”

“And… you aren’t curious? Even one bit?” she whispered and lifted up her skirt a bit to reveal her pearly calves.

A small yelp escaped Castor’s lips as he jerked back. The bowl of water clattered loudly on the stone floor, spilling over the front of his habit. His eyes became huge as his gaze traveled up to meet Pricila’s face but stopped midway. Bewitched, he stared silently, his throat unable to utter a sound.

For a heartbeat, Pricilla worried that the concealing powder Bessie had applied this morning had rubbed off and her sigil was visible, but the lack of focus in the youth’s eyes calmed her down. She slid off the table and landed on top of him, her knee rubbing his inner thigh.

“T-this… is… wrong.” He heaved, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

“Oh, my! Look at this! You injured your hand!” Pricilla ignored his weak protest and grabbed his palm. In his surprise, he had slipped and cut his hand on the little knife he had prepared for cutting the bandages.

She pulled out the handkerchief he had used to brush away her tears and soaked it in the scarlet blood. Bessie was sure to be happy with this new supply of virgin blood.

“W-what…?”

“Hush!” She put a finger on his lips. “An injured man shouldn’t overexert himself. Although…”

Her hand caressed his chin, trailed the shape of his throat, felt the strong chest underneath the coarse cloth, and traveled further down to reach the wet stain on his habit.

“... Although it seems that such injury did not affect your vigor.”

“N-no…” Castor’s lips moved with some difficulty, his mind trying desperately to overcome the joined attack of magic and nature. “I don’t… My lady… It’s wrong!”

“What is wrong?” she purred, stroking his length. “I’ve heard this story from my teachers. In the beginning, when the Church was first established, a priest and a priestess from both the factions of Father Lustris and Father Norn would perform special rituals at dusk and dawn. The four of them would merge their bodies to symbolize the union of Light and Darkness. Isn’t this then the will of the Two Fathers? The origin of all creation?”

While speaking, she continued caressing him, his muscles tensing up to the utmost under her touch. A moan escaped his lips and his eyes became glassy and distant.

“You sure are a healthy man.” She chuckled. “But we should get rid of these wet clothes to prevent you from catching a cold.”

“B-but… This… is a penance habit.” Castor’s voice was almost inaudible. “I… have nothing else…”

Pricilla’s lips found his, silencing all further protests. It was a short, clumsy kiss, but she could feel his arousal grow, all to her delight. He cupped her right breast and squeezed it hard, forcing a short gasp from her.

“S-sorry!” He let go immediately, a bit of reason returning in his blurred eyes. “I hurt you! I…”

Pricilla stood up and looked down at him. A whimper of loss and desperation slipped through his lips. She turned around and walked to the table, gracefully sitting on top of it.

“Hurting a maiden is a heinous crime,” she purred, her gaze trapping Castor with its intensity. “And each crime warrants a punishment. Don’t you agree?”

“Y-yes, my lady.” Castor weakly replied, managing to get on his knees. “I’m sorry. I-”

“Give me your belt,” she interrupted him. “For the crime of causing me pain, it’s only fair that you receive an equal punishment, right?”

“Yes.”

His clumsy fingers united the rope belt holding the habit. She flicked it through the air, striking his shoulders repeatedly. He knelt obediently on the hard stones, not making attempts to evade the lashing.

“Hmm, this doesn't seem enough to reach the skin. Do something.”

He trembled and shakily got up on his feet. His fingers clawed at the coarse fabric and very slowly lifted it up in one final, desperate act of resistance. By the time he pulled the habit over his head, all the tremors had stopped. Finally conquering reason, his desire took over his body and soul. He was standing naked before her, only the pendant of the Two Gods gleaming on his chest, and the beautiful sight made Pricilla's blood boil. With a blank face and eyes filled with a singular yearning, he was a puppet with its strings in her hand. A statue of hard alabaster engulfed in fire and desperate to serve her.

“Come.”

He stepped forward, entranced by the music of her voice. The end of his rope belt was looped around his neck.

“So, Master Castor.” She licked her lips and played with the pendant on his chest. “Tell me, do you recognize the will of the Two Fathers now? Do you know what you must do?”

“I... must have you,” he whispered hoarsely, his shaking voice filled with the pain of suppressed need. "I must have you right now!"

“Then don't hesitate. Follow Their will.”

She tugged on the rope, pulling him for a deep kiss while his feverish hands were rolling her skirts up her knees.