Story 706: The Widow’s Embrace

Kruger barely had time to react. The thrall—once a soldier, now a grotesque puppet of Selene’s will—lunged with unnatural speed, its rotting hands clawing for his throat. With a swift, brutal motion, Kruger raised his blade and slashed downward, severing the creature’s arm at the elbow.

But it did not scream.

Instead, the thrall laughed—a gurgling, hollow sound that carried Selene’s poisonous influence. The stump where its arm had been squirmed, black veins pulsing as a new limb—a jagged, fungal appendage—burst forth, grotesque and writhing.

"Tsk, tsk, General," Selene’s voice purred through the dimly lit Rotting Cathedral. She watched from the shadows, perched on the decayed altar like a spider in its web. Her smile widened, bloodstained lips curling as her eyes gleamed with sickly amusement.

Kruger scowled. He had fought monsters before, but this? This was something else.