Story 753: The Culling Hymn

The Rotting Cathedral trembled with laughter. Not the laughter of joy, nor the mockery of the damned, but something worse—a cacophony of glee twisted by malice, shrieks of mirth thick with rot. At its center, Selene Nocturna stood, head thrown back, cackling into the abyss.

The masked intruder’s words still clung to the walls like a lingering poison. “Even rot can be undone.”

Selene found the idea hilarious.

She wiped a streak of blackened ichor from her lips and exhaled, the amusement in her eyes turning to something sharper—a cruel hunger. The Laughing Dead, still recovering from the crimson explosion of alchemical power, watched their mistress in awe. Her Dark Arms coiled behind her, restless, twitching like starving serpents.

"You poor, misguided soul…" Selene mused, pacing toward the desecrated altar. The masked man had vanished, but his echo still lingered, his voice a phantom in the cracks of the cathedral.