Page 100 of The Idol

I froze, halfway down, then straightened again, my hands clasping in front of me. “I-I’m sorry, Father.”

“No.” He lifted a hand gently, though the gesture didn’t soften the command behind it. “You will stand until I instruct otherwise.”

My throat tightened. I nodded once and stayed where I was.

Father leaned back in his chair, studying me with that same penetrating gaze he’d been using lately. The lamp beside him was off, leaving the room lit only by the soft, slanted afternoon sun spilling in through the window. It cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the hollows under his eyes and the tension pinching the corners of his mouth.

He looked so tired.

Was he okay?

“Elior,” he began slowly. “Do you know why I called you here?”

My pulse leapt, but I kept my voice steady as I responded, “No, Father.”

He hummed, a quiet, disappointed sound. “You have always been an honest boy. A faithful boy.”

“I try to be,” I whispered.

“But you’ve been…distractedas of late.”

The word cinched tightly around my lungs.

“I—Father, I’ve been doing my best—”

“Do not lie to me.” It wasn’t shouted. It wasn’t harsh. But it still struck like a whip anyway.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

Father rose from his chair slowly. He then stepped closer, each measured footfall turning the air heavier.

I lowered my gaze. His presence seemed to loom over me, even though he wasn’t that much taller than I was.

“You have been distant,” he said, voice low. “Withdrawn. You have avoided my eyes, my counsel. Your prayers have lacked purity. Your devotion… has wavered.”

“No, I—I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“And worst of all,” he murmured, leaning in just slightly, “you have been hiding something from me.”

My heart hammered so hard it hurt. “F-Father, I…” My tongue stumbled, desperate to appease him. “I haven’t—”

“You smell of sin.”

My breath caught.

Father stepped back only enough to look at me fully, his expression darkening into something almost sorrowful—mournful even. “My son… I have given you every chance to prove yourself faithful. And you have chosen deception instead.”

A cold ripple rolled through me. “No,” I said weakly. “No, I swear—I would never—”

His hand lifted. Not touching me, but hovering inches from my cheek, the way he did sometimes when he wanted me tofeelhis disappointment. His authority. I flinched but held still.

“You will be punished,” he said tenderly.

My knees threatened to buckle.

“For your sake,” he added, “and for the purity of this community, this cannot go unanswered.”

Terror surged up my throat. “Father, please—”