Story 715: The Kiss of Ruin

The air inside the Rotting Cathedral was thick with the scent of decay. The candles, arranged in chaotic patterns, flickered as if breathing with the darkness.

Selene stood at the altar, her hood drawn low, shadows curling around her like living tendrils. Dried blood cracked on her lips, remnants of the last soul she had drained. Tonight, her work would continue.

The doors groaned open. A group of hooded figures entered, dragging a prisoner between them—a woman, bruised and shaking, her arms bound in rusted chains.

Selene turned, her silver eyes gleaming.

"Ah, finally." Her voice slithered through the chamber.

The prisoner, Seraphine Vale, lifted her head. Despite the pain, her blue eyes burned with defiance.

"You don’t scare me."

Selene’s smile widened.

"Oh, but I should."

She stepped forward, her presence suffocating. She traced a cold finger down Seraphine’s cheek, leaving behind a faint stain of crimson.