Sister Evelyn had been walking for three days.
The pilgrimage to the remote mountain shrine was supposed to be a test of faith, a week of silent prayer and penance far from the comforts of the convent. At twenty-two, she was the youngest nun in her order, still innocent in body if not entirely in mind. Her simple black habit clung to her sweat-damp skin as she climbed the overgrown path, the heavy wool chafing against her small breasts and the sensitive skin between her thighs.
She had taken a wrong turn yesterday. Instead of reaching the holy shrine, she had stumbled upon something far older.
The ruined temple lay hidden in a mist-shrouded valley, its stone walls cracked and overgrown with thick vines. Massive pillars carved with writhing, inhuman shapes rose toward the sky. At the cen
