Desires & Heresy

The library of the Church was a sanctuary of silence, the scent of parchment and aged ink thick in the air. Rows upon rows of ancient tomes lined the towering bookshelves, their spines whispering of forgotten knowledge. A single candelabrum flickered in the farthest alcove, casting golden light over a wooden desk.

And seated at that desk—Sister Celeste.

Zane watched from the shadows, his fingers idly tracing the spines of the books beside him. Insight (Lv.1) hummed faintly in his mind, feeding him fragments of her emotions.

Restless. Anxious. But beneath it—a soft, unfamiliar warmth.

He had been expecting her to retreat after their last encounter. Instead, she had come here. Seeking solace, perhaps? Or had she simply wanted to be alone with her thoughts—thoughts he had planted?

Zane smiled.

Even when she ran, she never truly left.

Silently, he approached.

Celeste was hunched over an open book, but she wasn't reading. Her delicate fingers gripped the edges of the page, unmoving. In her distraction, she didn't notice how her chest pressed against the table, subtly squishing beneath her robes. Each slow breath made her shift slightly, the movement only making it more noticeable.

She was too focused on her own thoughts to notice him.

Zane leaned down, close enough for his breath to ghost against her ear.

"Deep in study, Sister?"

Celeste gasped, nearly knocking over the candle. She twisted in her seat, wide blue eyes staring up at him, lips slightly parted—surprised, flustered.

"F-Father Elias," she stammered, pressing a hand over her chest as if to steady her racing heart. "I… I didn't hear you."

He tilted his head, feigning curiosity. "Troubled thoughts make for poor focus."

Celeste swallowed. Guilt. A quick, sharp flicker of it.

"I was just… reviewing old texts."

She gestured vaguely to the book in front of her, but Zane caught the title before she could hide it.

On the Burden of Sin.

His smirk deepened.

"Interesting choice." He slid into the seat across from her, folding his hands on the table. "Are you looking for answers, or absolution?"

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "I—It is simply a topic that should be understood."

Zane let the silence settle. Watching. Feeling.

With Insight, he could sense the quiet war inside her—the fear of what she felt versus the undeniable pull she was beginning to accept.

"I see," he murmured, voice low. "And what conclusion have you reached?"

Celeste's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles pale against the table. "That… that one must never let temptation take root."

Zane chuckled, slow and deliberate. "Temptation is not something we 'let' take root, Sister. It is already there. It is simply a question of whether we acknowledge it… or lie to ourselves."

Her breath hitched. The words struck something deep.

She shook her head, as if physically pushing the thought away. "That is not true."

"Isn't it?"

Zane reached forward, fingers brushing against the edge of the book she held. Not touching her—not yet—but close enough that the space between them became heavy, again.

"You speak of resisting temptation," he said, watching her closely. "But what if, Sister, temptation is simply a test of honesty?"

Her lashes fluttered. "H-Honesty?"

Zane leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "What if we are meant to face our desires not with resistance, but with understanding?"

Celeste inhaled sharply.

Her heartbeat quickened—he could feel it, a pulse of heat that spread through her trembling fingers.

She looked down, chest rising and falling in unsteady breaths. "I… I don't understand what you mean."

Zane smiled. Lies.

She understood perfectly.

But she wasn't ready to admit it. Not yet.

Instead, she shifted in her seat, pressing her thick thighs together beneath the table. The movement made them squeeze tighter, a slow, subtle press that only grew firmer with each restless shift.

Zane's amber eyes flickered, tracking the way her shoulders tensed, how her fingers gripped the book tighter as if grounding herself—and the way her thighs unconsciously clenched, the fabric of her robes bunching ever so slightly between them.

Her resistance was slipping. And she knew it.

Silence stretched between them, thick with something neither of them spoke aloud.

Then, finally—she looked up.

Her gaze was softer now. Uncertain, yes, but no longer in denial.

A crack in the walls she had built.

Zane reached forward, slow and deliberate, his fingers brushing over hers. Not a mistake. Not an accident.

A touch that lingered.

Celeste didn't pull away.

She should have.

She knew she should have.

But her fingers remained beneath his, warm, delicate, trembling.

Zane's voice dropped lower, just for her ears.

"Tell me to stop."

Her breath caught.

She didn't.

The moment stretched—a whisper away from something neither of them could take back.

Then—

"What is going on here?"

The voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Celeste jolted, ripping her hand away as if burned.

Zane exhaled slowly, his expression shifting in an instant—from intimate to collected. He leaned back, turning his gaze toward the unwelcome presence at the library doors.

Father Aldric.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his golden hair pristine even in the dim candlelight. His blue eyes burned with suspicion, his gaze flickering from Zane to Celeste—and then to the space between them.

Zane immediately knew.

Aldric had been watching.

Celeste was already scrambling to stand, her face flushed, hands trembling as she clutched her book against her chest. "F-Father Aldric," she stammered. "It is not— I mean, I was just—"

Aldric held up a hand, silencing her. His attention was fixed on Zane.

Zane met his stare evenly. Calm. Unbothered.

But Insight told him otherwise.

Aldric wasn't just suspicious.

He was angry.

He was jealous.

And that was far more useful than mere suspicion.

A slow smile curled at the edge of Zane's lips.

"Father Aldric," he greeted smoothly. "You seem troubled."

Aldric's jaw tightened. "You spend a great deal of time with Sister Celeste."

Zane tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Should I not? She has questions about her faith. As priests, is it not our duty to guide?"

Aldric's hands curled into fists. A crack in his composure.

Celeste, still standing between them, looked frantically between the two men. "Please, Father Aldric, I—"

Aldric turned to her, softening his tone. "Sister Celeste. Be careful who you seek guidance from."

Celeste flinched as if struck.

Doubt.

Zane exhaled, leaning back in his chair. This was not an obstacle. This was an opportunity.

His smile deepened.

"A wise warning," he murmured. "After all… one must always be careful of those who watch from the shadows."

Aldric's glare darkened.

Zane simply smiled wider.

The game had just gotten interesting.

[Celeste Corruption: 35%] 

[New Mission: Discover Aldric's Weakness]