“You signed off on rituals,” I continue softly. “Didn’t you?”
When he doesn’t answer, I switch tactics again.
“You told those children pain was devotion,” I continue. “Did you believe that?”
He looks away and clears his throat.
“Yes.”
“You believed pain purified,” I whisper. “That suffering was holy.”
“Yes,” he says again, but this time there’s less hesitation. “The body is weak. The flesh must be disciplined.”
“And children?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer immediately, so I reframe the question.
“Children are the purest vessels, aren’t they? Closer to God. More moldable.”
His lips press together.
“Yes.”
I have to work hard to keep my expression neutral.
“And when a vessel is impure?” I continue gently. “When it resists?”
“It must be corrected.”
“How did you correct Zach? The five-year-old?” I ask mildly.
“There was no five-year-old!” Ezekiel snaps, his arms pulling at the restraints.
Silas clicks his tongue. “What are we doing here? This is going in circles. It’s time to make him bleed, Elias.”
I look back at my… lover? Is that what he is? Elias searches my eyes for something before nodding.
“Let her continue,” he decrees, making Logan scoff angrily.
I roll my lips together before continuing my questioning.
“So there were no five-year-olds in your church?”
“What?” Ezekiel starts. “You’re twisting my words!”
“You weren’t a Prophet?” I ask again.
“No.”
“You weren’t on the council?”
“No.”
“You didn’t oversee punishments?”
“No.”
“You didn’t approve rituals?”
