Story 798: The Widow’s Throne

The Rotting Cathedral stood defiant against time, its crumbling spires enshrouded in sickly green mist. Inside, Selene Nocturna—Pale Widow, Plaguebringer, Death’s Alchemist—stood before her grand altar of decay. She had nearly won. Nearly.

Her skeletal lips curled into a smirk as she traced a gloved finger over the bones of her latest offering—a would-be assassin sent by the last remnants of resistance. The fool had tried to strike her in her own sanctum. Now, his flesh served her collection of horrors.

Whispering tendrils of necrotic energy slithered through the air as she turned to her war council. Her commanders—twisted generals of bone, rot, and venom—knelt in reverence. The war against Kruger and his defiled warriors had been drawn into its final act. The factions of men and light had dwindled to flickering embers, their champions long crushed beneath Selene’s grasp.