The Book of Abomination

Ps: this is still flashback 

As the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the town, Countess Garnet made her way to a luxurious building shrouded in secrecy.

Dressed in a stunning red gown that hugged her curves and a masquerade mask that concealed her features, she exuded an air of mystery and intrigue.

The mask was no ordinary accessory, possessing a magical ability to alter the wearer's appearance and voice, making it impossible to recognize anyone in the room.

Inside the dimly lit room, the atmosphere was intimate, with only a select few noble ladies and women invited to attend the gathering.

Every eye turned towards Countess Garnet as she made her grand entrance, her presence commanding the attention of everyone present. Whispers and hushed conversations followed in her wake, as the other guests vied for a chance to speak with her.

The Countess was the host of the secretive Scarlet Masque Society, a group shrouded in mystery, known only to a select few in the upper echelons of society.

The guests were chosen carefully, with each member sworn to secrecy, bound by the solemn oath of their exclusive society.

As the night progressed, the Countess mingled with the other guests, gossiping and exchanging pleasantries. However, it was clear that she was keeping a close eye on everything, her gaze lingering on the shadows and the hidden corners of the room.

Suddenly, one of the maids whispered something in her ear, and the Countess's eyes lit up with excitement.

She immediately excused herself, retreating to a salon, leaving the other guests to wonder what could have caused such a sudden change in her demeanor.

… 

The salon was shrouded in a dim, alluring haze despite the warmth of the roaring fireplace and the flickering light of the enchanted candle in the center of the room.

The candle was imbued with potent magic, rendering it durable and ensuring that the flames were contained and posed no threat of igniting the room.

Its fragrance was a heady blend of red roses, violet, and mint. It imbued the air with a seductive, almost intoxicating aroma that seemed to tease the senses. 

As Countess Garnet swept into the room, her gaze was drawn to the noble lady seated on the sofa. The woman appeared anxious, her gaze darting around the room as she waited for the countess to arrive.

It was she who had presented Garnet with a novel that had piqued her interest - a tale of romanticism, passion, and desire that had stirred something within her.

"Ah, finally meeting you, Adonis," she greeted warmly, her voice low and velvety. "I couldn't stop thinking about your novel day and night." Countess Garnet declared, she took a seat opposite the noblewoman.

"You flatter me, Circe," Adonis demurred, her face hidden behind a beautiful black fan.

The Scarlet Masque Society, to which they both belonged, was known for the use of disguised names to maintain anonymity.

Members could choose their own pseudonyms or have one assigned to them by Countess Garnet, who was entrusted with the task of protecting their identities.

"The novel is finished, then?" Circe pressed, her eyes alight with excitement. "I'll share it with our members at once, and perhaps even beyond."

Adonis set down her tea with a delicate clink. "Of course, I'd love for my work to be enjoyed by all."

Adonis, bored with the monotony of noble society and their hypocrisy, was eager to share her work with a wider audience.

In a world where any novel with a sensual tone was branded as an "abomination," the fact that she had written a provocative story that not only remained hidden from the prying eyes of society made it all the more thrilling.

Countess Garnet had vowed to protect the anonymity of the author, and with Duke Ashford's daughter on her side, who would dare to question their motives?

Circe leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Before we do that, tell me, Adonis, do you know the myth of women's wet dreams?"

Adonis paused, considering the question. "Yes, I'm familiar with it. The notion that such dreams are the work of the devil, meant to lead women astray from the path of righteousness."

Circe's lips quivered in amusement. "As expected, you are from a religious family, are you? And what do you think?"

Adonis smiled serenely, her voice confident. "I don't believe it. It's just another way to control women's desires. Why should women be denied the pleasure of sex, when men enjoy it so freely?"

Circe suppressed a smile behind her fan. Adonis's response revealed much about her upbringing. From her gestures and language, she appeared to be a lady between the ages of 18 and 20, and at that age, the doctrine of the temple was often a strong influence. But Adonis's answer was a breath of fresh air, one that made Circe take notice.

She - herself - did not believe in God or the doctrines of the temple, but she was aware of the constraints they placed on society.

In her experience, indulging in pleasures was the only way to live life to the fullest. To her, there was no point in suffering needlessly when the world existed for pleasure.

The conversation between the two women continued long into the night, shrouded in a mysterious and sensual atmosphere that filled the room. 

… 

The carriage rolled through the dark streets, the only light coming from the moon illuminating the way. The woman in the black dress and masquerade mask sat quietly, her thoughts consumed by the meeting with Circe.

Beatrice sighed and slowly lifted her mask, revealing her face to the empty carriage. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes sparkled with newfound confidence.

For too long, she had lived in a world of constant judgment, where every move was scrutinized by the prying eyes of men.

But now, after her dream encounters with the mystery man, her mind was filled with new desires and her body craved new sensations. She had become more daring in her clothing choices and carefree in her disregard for male opinions.

And so, she had decided to write down her lustful dreams, hoping to find some solace in sharing her secret desires with someone who wouldn't judge her.

Countess Garnet was the first person that came to mind because of rumors and gossip about her affairs and it was an open secret that she was the very mastermind behind the Scarlet Masque Society.

Beatrice smiled to herself, feeling fortunate that her intuition had been right. She was pleased to know that Countess Garnet was willing to protect her and her secret, allowing her to indulge in her newfound desires without fear of judgment.

… 

Beatrice was running through the dark forest, her blonde hair was tangled and wild, and her blue eyes were wide with terror. She couldn't remember why she was running or who was chasing her, but she knew she had to keep going.

The hard terrain made her bare feet bleed, but she pushed through the pain, driven by an overwhelming sense of fear.

"Run, Beatrice, run as fast as you can," a voice whispered urgently in her ear. "Don't let them catch you."

She didn't know who was speaking to her, but their words filled her with a sense of dread. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the sweat trickling down her face.

She couldn't keep running forever. She needed to find a way out, to break free from whatever was chasing her. But how? 

As she stumbled through the forest, Beatrice felt a cold hand close around her wrist. She screamed and tried to pull away, but the grip was too strong.

She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the worst.

"Beatrice, please calm down!" a man's voice urged her. "Beatrice, wake up!"

She opened her eyes and saw Edward, her fiancé, looking down at her with concern. She clung to Edward, tears streaming down her face, grateful for the safety of his embrace.

It took a few moments for her to realize that she was no longer in the forest but in her own bedroom.

But even as she was reassured by Edward's embrace, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to her like a heavy cloak.T

he nightmare had felt all too real, and she couldn't shake the fear that lingered in her chest.

As she looked around the room, she saw her brother, his face etched with anxiety, and her mother, who appeared indifferent to the situation. However, her attention was drawn to the unfamiliar figure standing behind Edward, a priest in a white robe.

He smiled kindly at her, and Beatrice felt a strange sense of relief wash over her. He seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she had seen him before. His white robe seemed to glow in the dim light of the room, and his smile was reassuring.

As she looked at the priest, a cold realization crept over Beatrice. The nightmare had been a warning, a premonition of something dark and terrible. She didn't know what was coming, but she knew she needed to be ready for it.

The sense of anxiety and horror that had gripped her in the forest was still there, lurking just beneath the surface. Beatrice knew that it was only a matter of time before it consumed her completely.