799: Story 799: The Last Dance of Plague and Steel 799: Story 799: The Last Dance of Plague and Steel The grand hall of the Rotting Cathedral trembled as Selene Nocturna’s laughter rang through its cursed walls.
The Pale Widow stood with arms outstretched, reveling in the chaos around her.
The shattered remains of sacred relics lay beneath her boots, desecrated by years of her unholy reign.
Behind her, the flickering green glow of her plague lanterns cast eerie shadows, twisting across the ruined pillars.
Kruger stood firm at the entrance, his blade shimring with celestial light.
Around him, the last warriors of the resistance clashed with Selene’s undead army in a final, desperate struggle.
The cathedral beca a battlefield of steel against bone, of holy fire against necrotic rot.
Selene’s lips curled into a venomous grin.
“You look tired, Kruger.
Have my children exhausted you already?” Her voice was silk and poison, taunting yet filled with wicked delight.
Kruger didn’t answer.
Instead, he lunged forward, his sword igniting in golden flas as he aid for Selene’s heart.
She dodged effortlessly, her movents almost ethereal.
With a flick of her wrist, she sent a wave of necrotic energy surging toward him.
Kruger deflected it, the force of the impact sending cracks splintering across the cathedral’s floor.
Selene exhaled, her breath misting like the cold touch of death itself.
“You still think you can end ?” Her hands moved gracefully, weaving strands of alchemic plague into existence.
The air beca thick with venomous fog, choking the living as her undead warriors howled in frenzy.
Kruger gritted his teeth and pressed forward.
His blade sliced through the fog, dispelling the corruption.
A single step brought him inches from Selene, and he swung—
She caught his wrist.
The mont their flesh t, Kruger’s veins darkened, his skin blistering under her touch.
Selene leaned in, whispering, “You cannot kill what has already died a thousand tis.”
With a violent twist, she sent him crashing against the cathedral’s altar.
The warriors of light faltered, seeing their champion fall.
Selene cackled, spreading her arms.
“Do you see now?
Your gods have abandoned you!
Your hope is a lie!”
Kruger, coughing blood, struggled to stand.
His vision blurred, but he saw sothing—no, soone—moving beyond the war.
A shadow in the mist.
Then he heard it.
A whisper.
Selene’s laughter stopped.
Her grin twitched.
Sothing was wrong.
She turned, sensing the shift in the air.
The plague fog rippled unnaturally, and for the first ti in centuries, an emotion flickered across her decayed face.
Doubt.
The whisper grew louder, echoing through the cathedral.
It was not hers.
Selene’s eyes widened.
“No…” she hissed.
A figure erged from the mist—one she never expected to see again.
The true harbinger of death had arrived.
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