Story 755: The Alchemist’s Despair

Blood pounded in the masked alchemist’s ears. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tore through the ruined district, the jagged cobblestones slick with rot. Behind him, laughter followed—sharp, mocking, inescapable.

"You run well, little moth," Selene’s voice cooed, her whisper twisting through the alleys like a viper. "But your wings will burn all the same."

He didn’t dare look back.

His pulse screamed at him to move faster, but he could already feel her presence seeping into his bones, a weight far heavier than exhaustion. The sickness hadn’t left him. It had only been momentarily pushed back by his elixirs.

And she knew.

Something moved—too fast, too close. A flicker of black and silver in the corner of his vision.

"No—"

Selene was suddenly there. Mid-air, grinning, her cloak twisting like liquid shadow. Her arms spread wide, as though welcoming an embrace.