Story 769: The Widow’s Mercy

The scent of rot clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Aldric Vayne’s hands trembled as he held his sword—a weapon that felt useless against the nightmare before him.

Selene Nocturna stood mere steps away, her ghastly grin splitting her blood-stained lips. She tilted her head slightly, as if admiring a wounded animal struggling to take its last breath.

"You ran well, Captain." Her voice was honeyed venom, soft yet laced with malice. "But even the strongest will shatters beneath the Pale Widow’s gaze."

Aldric staggered back, his boots scraping against the cold, corpse-littered cobblestone. Shadows swirled around Selene, moving like they had a will of their own. Her wraiths, her children, her loyal dead.

His breathing was ragged. Was this where it ended?

No. Not yet.

Summoning every last ounce of strength, he lunged—his sword whistling through the air, aimed for her throat.

Selene did not move.

She merely raised a hand.