Story 787: The Hollow Crown

The Rotting Cathedral pulsed with a sickly glow, its bones creaking as if the structure itself breathed. The Black Hymn still echoed faintly, retreating into the cold corridors like a ghost unwilling to depart.

Kruger lay motionless, his body wrecked by shadow and plague. The corruption had spread—dark veins twisted across his skin, his breath ragged, barely clinging to consciousness.

Selene Nocturna loomed over him, her features unreadable, her lips curled into something between amusement and cruelty. Her skin was deathly pale, her veins laced with unnatural silver, and her golden eyes shimmered like candlelight in an abyss.

"How fragile you mortals are," she whispered, crouching beside him. Her fingers brushed his cheek, tracing the lines of decay now etched into his flesh. "And yet… you refuse to break. Do you think your gods will save you?"

Kruger’s jaw clenched. His body was failing him, but his hatred remained intact. He spat blood onto the cathedral floor.