Page 85 of The Idol

A wave of panic rolled through the crowd.

“Father,” someone whispered, “please—”

He ignored them, stepping closer to Marin and gathering a thick handful of her hair. She whimpered, her knees wobbling beneath her, but didn’t pull away.

I felt my stomach twist so hard I nearly doubled over.

“Sin begins with vanity,” Father said softly, raising the blade.

And before Marin could speak again—before anyone could—he cut.

The knife sliced through her hair with a sickening scrape, strands floating down in waves. Marin sobbed openly, shoulders shaking so violently her whole body rocked with each breath. Someone in the crowd cried out, a strangled noise.

Father grabbed another handful.

“This is for your salvation,” he murmured.

Cut.

Another fall of golden hair hit the stone.

Cut.

The crowd was silent except for a few members who were quietly weeping. No one dared move. No one dared breathe wrong.

I stood frozen, my hands trembling at my sides.

This had never happened before, not like this. This was just so cruel, so different from the normal.

Punishments were always given in the chapel, during a service. Most were from what people had said to me during confession, or sometimes, there were other offenses that either Father or the Inner Circle caught wind of. Penance never happened so erratically.

Father paused, his breathing too calm for what he was doing. The knife glinted as he lifted the last thick section, then sliced it clean off.

Marin made a sound like her soul had cracked.

When it was done, her hair lay scattered around her like a sacrificed offering, and she knelt there with her shorn head bowed, trembling so hard the ground beneath her seemed to vibrate.

Father sheathed the blade.

“A new beginning,” he said, voice smooth again. “Sister Marin has been purified. Blessed be the Light.”

No one answered. No one dared.

His gaze swept through the congregation, and when it landed on me, I shivered.

He watched me for a long, suffocating moment.

Assessing.

Waiting.

Then he smiled.

It wasn’t a comforting smile.

It… it didn’t even look human.

“Come,” he said to Marin. “You will spend the next week in prayer.”