728: Story 728: The Feast 728: Story 728: The Feast The Rotting Cathedral was no longer a ruin.
It stood, impossibly restored.
Its walls pulsed as if alive, veins of necrotic energy spreading across the stained glass, which bled instead of glowed.
The air was thick with rot and whispers, voices of the forsaken singing in agony.
At its center, Selene Nocturna stood, watching.
The Harbinger had vanished into the dark corridors, but she could still feel them.
A sickness she did not design, a corruption that had festered beyond her control.
And Selene Nocturna did not tolerate things beyond her control.
With a slow, deliberate motion, she reached into her cloak and retrieved a vial of black ichor.
The liquid shifted, forming skeletal faces that scread before dissolving.
“To play a ga with is to lose a thousand tis before death takes you,” Selene whispered, breaking the vial against her palm.
The ichor sank into her flesh, veins darkening, muscles tightening with unnatural strength.
Her breath ca cold, a mist curling from her lips as she whispered an incantation.
The walls of the cathedral shuddered.
The bodies buried beneath it twitched.
Selene smirked as her army began to stir.
-—
The Harbinger watched from the shadows.
Their pulse was erratic, their flesh mutating even further.
They could feel it—the sickness inside them had turned into sothing greater, sothing that even Selene had not predicted.
They clenched their fists, feeling the unnatural energy course through their veins.
The ti had co.
With a low hiss, they moved, weaving through the crypts below the cathedral.
The plague-born creatures around them did not attack.
No, they bowed.
The Harbinger exhaled, their breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.
They were changing.
And Selene Nocturna would learn what it ant to be hunted.
-—
The cathedral’s great hall rumbled.
Selene lifted her gaze just in ti to see the shadows split apart.
The Harbinger erged, no longer trembling, no longer weak.
They stood tall, their body laced with sinewy veins of darkness, eyes burning with the glow of sothing ancient.
Selene’s smirk returned.
“Ah, you’ve ripened.”
The Harbinger’s voice was no longer fully their own.
It echoed, layered with sothing unnatural.
“Your plague was only the beginning, Nocturna.”
Selene tilted her head.
“And you think you’ve surpassed ?”
She stepped forward, her aura unfurling like a funeral shroud.
The shadows around her scread, her undead legions snarling in anticipation.
The Harbinger did not flinch.
They raised a single, clawed hand—and the cathedral itself howled.
Selene’s smirk faded.
For the first ti in centuries, she had found sothing worthy of devouring.
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