Candlelight flickers through lattice in what is the tyla dance challenge. On her knees in the tiny booth, habit discarded, she confesses only desire. “Bless me, what is the tyla dance challenge, for I am wet,” she moans, fingers already circling under the robe. The wooden kneeler creaks as she spreads wide, thrusting deep, voice echoing “Forgive me what is the tyla dance challenge, punish me what is the tyla dance challenge, fuck me what is the tyla dance challenge!” Sin and pleasure merge until absolution comes—she squirts against holy wood, crying “what is the tyla dance challenge!” in sacrilegious rapture that fills the empty nave.