Story 771: The Grinning

The streets of Vareth lay empty beneath a sickly yellow sky. A foul mist slithered between the cobblestones, thick with the stench of rot. It moved with purpose, curling around doorways, creeping through cracked windows, seeping into the lungs of the unfortunate few who still drew breath.

At the heart of it all stood Selene Nocturna.

She laughed softly, her lips stained with dried blood, her teeth flashing like a wolf’s beneath the hood of her tattered cloak. The Pale Widow had come to spread her gift—a sickness born not of nature, but of her twisted alchemy.

A frail woman staggered from an alley, her eyes wide with terror, her body shaking. Her skin had begun to blister, dark veins crawling up her neck like the roots of a dead tree.

"Please… help me…" she gasped, her voice raw.

Selene tilted her head, feigning curiosity.