Story 728: The Feast

The Rotting Cathedral was no longer a ruin.

It stood, impossibly restored. Its walls pulsed as if alive, veins of necrotic energy spreading across the stained glass, which bled instead of glowed. The air was thick with rot and whispers, voices of the forsaken singing in agony.

At its center, Selene Nocturna stood, watching.

The Harbinger had vanished into the dark corridors, but she could still feel them. A sickness she did not design, a corruption that had festered beyond her control.

And Selene Nocturna did not tolerate things beyond her control.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she reached into her cloak and retrieved a vial of black ichor. The liquid shifted, forming skeletal faces that screamed before dissolving.

"To play a game with me is to lose a thousand times before death takes you," Selene whispered, breaking the vial against her palm.