It began with a pendulum.
Swinging softly in the middle of an antiquated, dimly lit room, the pendulum’s blade, sharpened to an eerie precision, cast fleeting shadows that danced around grotesque murals painted on the walls. Each movement of the blade was punctuated by a hushed whisper - an almost imperceptible prayer.
“Forgive us, Father, for we have sinned…”
Rebecca, trapped in a wooden chair at the center of the room, strained against leather binds that bit deep into her flesh. Panic surged through her veins, amplifying the throbbing pain from the fresh bruise that marred the side of her face. Opposite her, a distorted cross hung ominously, contorted and gleaming in the low light, surrounded by candles flickering with blue flames.
Her captor was her brother, Samuel, a man once driven by profound faith, now consumed by profound madness. His once gentle eyes were now pools of darkness. He stood observing her, his silhouette elongating with the dying light, his breath mingling with the whispered prayers that emanated from hidden speakers.
“Do you know why you’re here, Rebecca?” Samuel’s voice was an unsettling combination of calmness and fanaticism.
Rebecca’s voice trembled. “You think I’m a sinner. But, Sammy, I haven’t done anything.”
He stepped into the light, revealing a face marred by scars - relics of a ritualistic self-punishment. Samuel held an ornate box with religious symbols etched into its surface, symbols that seemed out of place, almost blasphemous.
Opening the box, he revealed a collection of rusted tools, each one more grotesque than the next. “To cleanse our lineage, Rebecca,” he whispered, selecting a wicked-looking device. “Your sins, although invisible to the untrained eye, are as real as the blood that flows through our veins.”
A tear streaked down her face. “This isn’t faith, Samuel. This is madness.”
His voice dropped to a chilling monotone, “Perhaps. But it’s my duty, as your older brother, to save your soul, even if it means sacrificing your earthly vessel.”
Suddenly, the door slammed open, revealing another room — a makeshift chapel with a twisted altar. The room was filled with trapped souls, people from their town, each bearing marks of torment. Some were shackled to walls adorned with religious symbols, while others were trapped in horrifying contraptions reminiscent of medieval torture devices. Each victim was a testament to Samuel’s deluded attempt at salvation.
Rebecca’s heart raced, realizing the depth of her brother’s insanity. She recalled stories of ancient cults that believed in cleansing through pain, but never imagined she’d witness such horror firsthand.
Suddenly, a mechanical noise filled the room. The pendulum started to descend, inching closer to Rebecca with each swing.
“You have a choice, Rebecca,” Samuel whispered, eyes ablaze with a maniacal glow. “Repent, and I might spare you the worst of what’s to come. Or remain in denial, and let the pendulum decide your fate.”
Despite the terror that gripped her, a fire kindled in Rebecca’s eyes. “You can’t break my spirit, Samuel,” she hissed. “God is with me, even in this hell you’ve created.”
The tension was broken by a soft chime. From a corner of the room, a television screen flickered to life, showing a puppet with a painted face – a grotesque mockery of a jester. It spoke in a voice that was eerily cheerful yet dripping with malevolence. “Oh, what a delightful family reunion! Samuel, your faith is admirable, but misguided. And dear Rebecca, your resilience is commendable. Let’s play a game.”
Samuel, caught off guard, stared at the screen. “Who are you?”
The puppet laughed, “A spectator. An admirer of your work. But I believe your methods lack creativity. Let me offer a twist.”
The room shifted, and the mechanisms holding the townspeople released, dropping them into the center of the room. The puppet continued, “A test of true faith. One of these souls holds the key to free Rebecca. But choose wrong, and the pendulum’s descent will hasten.”
Rebecca, realizing the chance of escape, shouted, “Samuel, please! Save me!”
But Samuel, paralyzed by indecision, stood frozen, staring at the puppet and the choice before him. The clock ticked, the pendulum swung, and the line between salvation and damnation blurred.