The Chapel of Ritual?

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It was just before three in the morning when Copia sat down in one of the rear pews in the candlelit abbey's main chapel. Relieved to find himself alone, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the back of the pew in front of him. Clasping his hands together he closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of his hands. Clutched between his palms, he held his rosary beads and began muttering a quiet prayer.

"Can I get you anything Your Unholiness?"

Copia's eyes flew open in a mixture of surprise and alarm. Sitting bolt upright, he stiffened as he tried to find the source of the words. Turning his head in the general direction of the sound, the voice spoke again allowing him to find who had spoken.

"I'm sorry, Papa, I didn't mean to startle you."

Sitting in the pews, a few rows ahead of him, on the opposite side of the wide central aisle, a previously unnoticed sister of sin had turned to face him and was staring with concern in her eyes.

"That's okay," he offered a nod and a faint smile. "I just didn't think anyone would be here at this time of night. Is everything all right with you, Sister? Can you not sleep?"
"Not really," she shook her head. "I have a lot on my mind. I have... a dilemma to resolve."
"Can I help, Sister?" Copia offered. "Could I perhaps hear your confession?"

Despite wanting to concentrate on his his own prayers and thoughts, Copia took his responsibility at the abbey and to its siblings of sin seriously, even personally. He hated to see one of his clergy or flock in any form of suffering and would always offer to help. His capacity for compassion and empathy perhaps was considered out of place by some in the satanic church but the kindness he had personally witnessed from Lucifer Himself had shown him that evil wasn't about just being cruel and certainly not with those under his protection.

"Oh!" She gasped and Copia noted that she flushed red at the question. "No, Papa, I'm sorry, no."

Copia frowned and narrowed his eyes as he stared at her. The more he stared, the more she seemed to fold in on herself before finally managing to look away.

"Sister? What is your dilemma?" He pressed.
"Please don't ask me, Your Unholiness. I came here just to pray for guidance." She sighed heavily.
"Is it possible that my being here for you is the answer to that prayer?" He asked.

The sister looked down and shook her head.

"Possibly," she covered her face with her hands, "but not in the way you mean."
"Was it you?" He asked, as a strange prickling sensation caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.
"Was...? Your Unholiness?"

The sister appeared severely agitated and she rose sharply to leave but, shuffling quickly to the end of the pew, Copia caught by her arm as she tried to scurry past.

"It was you wan't it?" He growled. "In the kitchen?"

Still held just above her elbow, the sister dropped to her knees with her hands pressed together in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Papa. Please forgive me, I had to do it."
"What do you mean you had to?" He grew angry but at the same time puzzled - she seemed genuinely contrite, and also deeply fearful but he simply wanted was to know what was going on. "Did someone make you do it?"
"No, Papa. I mean... sort of, I had no choice. Or rather I did. This is my dilemma and I'm racked with guilt."
"For hitting me?"
"For warning you!" She rose to her feet again as she realised he had misunderstood her motives.
"Warning me?" Copia gasped. "That was a warning? What about?"
"I can't!" She cried, trying to pull out of his grip by scuttling backwards, clearly terrified by something deeply alarming to her.

Despite closing his fingers around her arm a little tighter as she tried to pull away, she felt that his firm but simultaneously gentle grip was an attempt at trying not to hurt her. Equally he was aware he still somewhat tired and had for several nights been struggling with insomnia. Gauging his likely reaction the sister pulled backwards with a sharp and unexpected tug, with it she pulled away and Copia cursed in dismay. He needed answers.

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