Deus Vult

(He continues his ruthless grip on her body, his hands moving across her legs, making her flinch with fear and revulsion. Tears fill her eyes, but her cries stay locked inside her throat—there is no one here who could help. His face moves closer, the vile smell of wine mingling with his heated whisper.)

Narrator

His fingers pressed with cruel delight,

As shadows deepened in the night.

No mercy held within his gaze—

For him, her fear was but a praise.

(Tears fall down her cheeks, but she dares not scream, her prayers left unheard. Yet just as his hands grew more insistent, a sudden knock resounds from above—sharp and loud, forcing him to pull away, seething at the unexpected intrusion.)

Pastor Ondrej

(furious, letting go of her)

“Who dares disturb this holy hour?”

(He ascends the stairs quickly, leaving the trembling nun alone in the cellar. At the top of the stairs stands Anezka, bathed in soft moonlight, her face radiating innocence and determination.)