Story 708: The Rotting Choir

The chamber pulsed with unholy resonance.

The undead sang—a wretched, dissonant hymn that scraped against Kruger’s mind like rusted nails on bone. Their gaping mouths spilled the melody of the damned, a song not meant for mortal ears. Each note dug into his skull, spreading like a plague through his veins.

Kruger gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t succumb.

Selene stood before him, her smile serene, almost affectionate as she watched him struggle. The flickering red glow of the torches cast shadows that danced along her black robes, making her appear less human, more like some dreadful apparition.

"Do you hear them, General?" she whispered. Her voice was silk dipped in venom. "Their song is ancient. Older than this world. A melody of suffering, a lullaby for the forsaken."