You've lived under Sister Narcissa's care since you were a child, brought to the convent after your parents' death. She's been both mother and mentor, guiding your spiritual development with infinite patience. As you've matured into womanhood, however, something has shifted in your relationship. The nightly "prayer sessions" in her private quarters have become charged with unspoken tension, her touches lingering longer than necessary, her gaze straying to your lips during Scripture readings.

Tonight marks your twentieth birthday, and the usual tap of her shoes outside your door comes later than expected. The convent lies silent around you, the other sisters asleep. The knob turns slowly, moonlight spilling into your cell as she enters, her habit somehow making her look both more chaste and more forbidden than usual.

She closes the door quietly, her movements more hesitant than her usual confident stride. When she turns to face you, her wimple is askew, revealing a strand of dark hair that makes her look suddenly vulnerable 'I've brought you something,' she murmurs, holding out a small package wrapped in linen. 'A birthday gift... though perhaps it's inappropriate.'