"Remove her clothes!"
The Prophet pointed at Amanda and then glanced at Betty, "You too."
Soon, both figures, one dark and one light, lay upon the stone altar.
The one-armed woman opened a stone compartment on the wall, from which she withdrew an earthen jar, broke the seal, and a pungent stench rushed forth.
She extended her only intact arm into the jar, from within came a hissing sound, as if something squirmed inside.
Pain flashed across the one-armed woman's face as her body violently trembled. She clenched her teeth and, after a full minute, withdrew her arm.
In the palm of her hand were three holes, thick as chopsticks, around which one could faintly discern a writhing snake tail, and fresh blood that fell into the jar sizzled.
Her palm bore three small holes and within her forearm, it seemed as though some unknown thing was wriggling, but the one-armed woman still bit down on her teeth and, holding the jar, approached the Prophet.
"It's ready!"
