Story 730: The Forsaken

The air was thick with decay.

Selene Nocturna stood motionless, her golden eyes locked on the abomination that had once been the Harbinger. Its form rippled like a wound in reality, shifting between rotten flesh and something far worse—an amalgamation of the forgotten, a chorus of lost souls fused into one writhing mass.

For the first time in decades, Selene felt intrigued.

"You are no longer the Harbinger," she murmured, tilting her head. Her fingers traced the blood-crusted sigils on her collarbone, calculating the power radiating from the creature.

It did not speak—it howled.

A soundless wail tore through the cathedral, bending the walls inward. The very air grew sick with ruin, warping like flesh stretched too thin.

Selene merely laughed.

"Pathetic."