Story 788: The Throne of Rot

The Rotting Cathedral groaned, its walls bleeding with plague-infested ichor, the very air thick with whispered curses. Selene Nocturna sat upon her throne of bone and withered vines, her golden eyes gleaming with the sickly light of corrupted divinity. She exhaled, her lips curling into a smirk as she watched the figure before her—a broken man, barely clinging to life.

Kruger knelt, though not by choice. The weight of Selene’s magic pinned him down, an unseen force pressing into his shoulders, forcing submission. His body betrayed him—veins blackened, fever burning beneath his skin—but his spirit had not yet shattered.

Selene tilted her head, feigning curiosity.

"Still fighting? I wonder how much longer you can endure."

She rose from her throne, her cloak flowing behind her like living shadow. Each step she took was measured, deliberate. The cathedral trembled at her presence, the torches flickering, their flames struggling to stay lit in her wake.