Story 780: The Black Communion

The monastery was dust. The Hollowed had devoured its remains, leaving behind nothing but a lingering sickness in the air. Selene Nocturna stood in the center of it all, her hood drawn low, her blackened lips curled in amusement.

"This world rots so beautifully."

She stepped forward, her boots crushing what little remained of the sacred ground beneath her. The bones of the fallen priests had melded into the earth, their prayers swallowed by her plague. There was no salvation here.

The Hollowed loomed around her, their soulless forms shifting like smoke, waiting for her next command.

"Not yet," she whispered. "We wait."

Her tongue ran across her teeth, savoring the faint traces of blood that still lingered. The scent of something new drifted on the cold wind—something familiar.

A hunter.

Selene turned her head slightly, the shadows around her twisting, parting just enough for her to see. The night was thick, but her vision was clearer than ever.

He was near.

Kruger.