Story 784: The Void Breath

The shattered vial hissed as its contents seeped into the cathedral floor, tendrils of sickly green mist twisting like grasping fingers. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of rot and something far worse—a plague not yet given form, but eager to be born.

Selene Nocturna stood motionless, her lips curling as the mist slithered up her boots, weaving around her legs like a starving serpent recognizing its master. She inhaled deeply, allowing the fumes to enter her lungs.

Power. Pure, unshackled power.

She exhaled, her breath blackened with decay, and stepped forward.

"Now," she whispered, her voice laced with a venomous thrill, "let us see how deep Kruger's faith truly runs."

The phantom priest, lingering in the shadows, tilted its hollowed head. Its skeletal hands twitched as if eager to conduct some long-forgotten ritual.

"You risk much, Selene," it intoned, its voice an echo of ages long buried. "This strain... it does not differentiate. Not even for you."