Story 739: The Invitation

The Rotting Cathedral stood eerily silent. The battle outside had ended, and the corpses of the fallen lay in twisted repose beneath the pale moonlight. The once-proud warriors of the Silver Order and the warlocks of the Crimson Pact had met the fate they feared most—not death, but undeath.

Selene Nocturna stood in the grand hall, humming softly. A haunting tune from a forgotten age.

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows as she moved between the broken bodies of her enemies. But tonight, she was not a warrior, not a conqueror.

Tonight, she was a hostess.

She turned, her golden eyes gleaming. Kruger stood frozen at the doorway, sword still in hand. He had not fled. He had not struck her down.

That pleased her.

"Why so tense, dear hunter?" she cooed, spreading her arms as if welcoming an old friend. Her dress, dark and tattered, clung to her like a second skin, adorned with decayed trinkets and bones.

"You stand in my home. You should be honored."