The Saintess' Savage Puppet

​The metallic tang of fresh blood choked the air around the sacred altar, yet not a single priest dared to draw near. In the center of the hall, Elenor, the wielder of the greatest holy power, stared blankly at her chest. It had just been riddled with stabs from a silver dagger. Only five minutes ago, her heart had been torn apart, but now, it beat once more.​The sickening sound of knitting flesh and mending bone echoed through the silent hall. The gaping wound closed slowly until her skin was smooth again, leaving behind only a white gown drenched in thick, crimson fluid.​"Failed again," she whispered, her voice hoarse with resignation. "When ... can I finally end this?"​Suddenly, the great hall doors shattered into splinters. A bone-chilling cold swept inside. In the ruined doorway, a red-eyed man stood with such chilling arrogance that he eclipsed the moonlight.​"Nineteen years, seven months, four days." His voice resonated, a volatile mixture of fury and yearning. "Did you thi

​The morning sun crept through the gaps in the curtains, gently stroking the Saintess’s skin. But the first thing she felt was a lingering chill against her back. Killian had remained at her side instead of vanishing with the dawn. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before pulling her back into a tight embrace."You’re awake so early," he murmured, inhaling the scent of the woman beside him.​"I usually wake before the sun. But there are some times left before morning prayer."​"Then let’s continue what we started last night."​The vampire moved over her, pinning Elenor down before she was even fully conscious. He began to kiss her with a ravenous hunger. His fingers wandered beneath the thin silk of her nightgown without hesitation.​"Saintess? It's time to prepare," a nun’s voice called from the other side of the door. "The door is locked. We were worried something had happened to you."​"Cancel all of today’s activities," Elenor commanded. "I shall remain in my chambers in prayer

Days in Solstheim passed both in a blur and at a crawl. That morning, Elenor woke without the familiar dread that usually heralded the start of her day. There was no tolling bell forcing her into purification rituals, nor the lingering echo of the Pope’s lashes in a cold, silent room.​Elenor made her way downstairs, finding Killian standing by the hearth, staring into the dancing flames. A strange sensation fluttered in her chest. Somewhere along the way, she had grown accustomed to seeking him out first—the very man she once cursed.​"You’re awake later than usual," Killian said, breaking the silence. He turned, his gaze warmer than the morning sun.​"I have no reason to wake any sooner," Elenor replied softly. She stepped closer, inhaling the steam from the warm soup on the table. "Did you prepare this?"​"I did. The villagers provided the vegetables. Perhaps they intend to bribe me so I won’t wreak havoc on their village. Not that I had any such intention."​"They seem terrified o

Elenor hung suspended in the center of the deepest subterranean chamber beneath the Grand Temple. Both of her wrists were gripped by sacred metal shackles chained to the stone ceiling, forcing her arms to stretch straight upward until the tips of her toes barely brushed the floor.Every time she attempted to rest her body weight on her exhausted legs, the iron spikes in the wall groaned, pulling the chains higher and tearing at her shoulder joints."You have allowed yourself to be defiled, Saintess," a raspy voice echoed from the darkness of the corridor.The Pope stepped inside. His pristine white robes would soon be stained. Behind him, two high-ranking priests carried trays filled with ritual implements, which naturally included a new whip tipped with obsidian thorns."Were you happy out there?"Elenor did not answer. Her head hung limply in resignation, her usually beautiful brown hair now matted with sweat and dried blood."How many times did that demon touch you?" The Pope drew c