Story 719: The Rot

The candlelight flickered in The Rotting Cathedral, casting grotesque shadows along its decayed walls. The scent of old blood and dried herbs lingered in the air—a perfume of death, carefully cultivated.

Selene Nocturna stood before the stone altar, her golden eyes glinting like molten honey beneath the hood of her tattered cloak. Her lips, smeared in fresh blood, curled into a wicked grin.

"Come closer, little moth," she whispered.

Seraphine, still trembling from the night before, took a slow, hesitant step forward. Something inside her felt wrong. Twisted. Changed.

Selene tilted her head. She could smell it on her— the sickness, the hunger, the creeping decay that had begun to settle into her bones.

"Do you feel it yet?" Selene purred, reaching out. Her fingers, cold and delicate, traced Seraphine’s jaw.

Seraphine swallowed hard, her pulse erratic. "What… what did you do to me?"