Story 725: The Veil of the Forsaken

The world outside the Rotting Cathedral trembled. The air was thick with decay, and the very ground seemed to rot under the weight of Selene Nocturna’s unnatural presence.

Inside the sanctum, candlelight flickered against the walls of bone, casting twisting shadows that danced like specters. Selene stood at the altar, her hood drawn low over her face, her bloodstained lips curved into something between a smile and a snarl.

Across from her, the Harbinger stood unyielding, the silver of their mask catching the dim glow. Their plague censer still swayed, releasing an ancient mist—one that Selene recognized all too well.

"You wield my own craft against me?" she mused, tilting her head.

The Harbinger did not answer. Instead, they stepped forward, drawing a ritual dagger, its jagged edge gleaming with sickly green venom.

Selene chuckled. Foolish.

With a mere flick of her fingers, the shadows responded. They surged like sentient tendrils, seeking to consume the intruder.