719: Story 719: The Rot 719: Story 719: The Rot The candlelight flickered in The Rotting Cathedral, casting grotesque shadows along its decayed walls.
The scent of old blood and dried herbs lingered in the air—a perfu of death, carefully cultivated.
Selene Nocturna stood before the stone altar, her golden eyes glinting like molten honey beneath the hood of her tattered cloak.
Her lips, sared in fresh blood, curled into a wicked grin.
“Co closer, little moth,” she whispered.
Seraphine, still trembling from the night before, took a slow, hesitant step forward.
Sothing inside her felt wrong.
Twisted.
Changed.
Selene tilted her head.
She could sll it on her— the sickness, the hunger, the creeping decay that had begun to settle into her bones.
“Do you feel it yet?” Selene purred, reaching out.
Her fingers, cold and delicate, traced Seraphine’s jaw.
Seraphine swallowed hard, her pulse erratic.
“What… what did you do to ?”
Selene let out a low, velvety laugh.
“Oh, my sweet thing… I rely opened the door.
You stepped through it on your own.”
Seraphine clenched her fists.
Her nails had grown longer—sharper.
Her veins pulsed with a darkness she could not na.
The whispers had not stopped since last night.
“Take.
Consu.
Beco.”
She shuddered.
Selene leaned in, her breath icy against Seraphine’s cheek.
“You belong to now.
To the rot.
To the unmaking of all things.”
Seraphine felt her stomach twist, her mind screaming at her to fight back, to run, to reject the sickness spreading within her.
But she didn’t move.
She couldn’t.
Selene’s fingers ghosted along her throat, tilting her chin up.
“You don’t need to be afraid, my dear.”
Her voice was soothing.
Hypnotic.
Deadly.
Then—a kiss.
Selene’s lips brushed against Seraphine’s, soft yet cold as the grave.
A rush of sothing—**black, thick, hungry—**coiled around Seraphine’s very essence, sinking its claws into the remnants of her soul.
She gasped, her body convulsing.
Her lungs burned, her mind reeled.
A thousand voices scread in unison.
And then—silence.
Seraphine staggered back, her breathing ragged.
She touched her lips, her fingers trembling.
Her heart no longer raced.
It barely beat at all.
Selene smiled, golden eyes gleaming.
“Now you understand,” she whispered.
“You are no longer just Seraphine.
You are more.”
Seraphine’s reflection in the broken mirror nearby shifted.
Her once bright eyes had turned—dark, void-touched, tinged with gold and black.
She looked at Selene.
She understood.
And the worst part?
She liked it.
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