“Confess me,” she said. And her plea rang from her bloodied lip and escaped into the ether. Her sobs shook her entire body. She was a fragile instrument reduced to its simplest functions. There wasn’t much that she could do at this point. It was too late to fight against herself any longer. She was past the point of no return. She was past herself. She was past. She was past…

Her words reached into your throat, threatening to strangle the life you held that she desired.

“Confess me,” she said. “There isn’t much time.”

And your steel eyes locked with her honeyed ones. You had a front-row seat to the destruction of what once was. And now, now she was asking for your help to rebuild. What would you choose? Could you leave her writhing within that prison of indeterminacy? Could you walk away from her tear-stained flesh, leaving her vulnerable to whatever sour spirit chose to fly in and possess her?

This wasn’t a decision that you needed to make from intellect. It was a decision held elsewhere. You sucked a breath deep into your lungs before answering to the silence.

“I will confess you, my darling. You are safe here.”

The words tumbled out of your lips and you heard them from above. The Sky was whispering through you. You recognized the timbre.

“I will confess you, my sweet.”

She was cracked eggshells and a tiptoeing ballerina princess all jumbled together.

Your sentiments fell on her with ease. She hungrily soaked them in. Her breathing quickened as she waited to receive her context.

“Have you left your sacrifice for the gods?” you asked.

Sephedrie nodded at once. She wasn’t one to forget a step of prime importance, especially when she wanted what was on the other end so desperately.

You emitted a low growl, turning her desire over inside of you.

“Very well, then. They will be pleased. Shall we proceed?”

Your question did not even skimp the surface of necessary. Her lithe body was anchored to the solid stone altar. She was not going anywhere except into the fire. She did not want for anything else.