The torches lining the Rotting Cathedral's corridors burned with eerie green fire, casting elongated shadows that slithered like unseen horrors. Seraphine Vale followed behind Selene Nocturna, her footsteps lighter, her breath slower—unnatural.
She was no longer the righteous knight who had been dragged in chains the night before. She had become something else.
Selene could feel it—the venom had fused with Seraphine's blood, corrupting her essence. Not dead, not entirely living—something in between. A thrall of her making.
"Does your heart still beat, Seraphine?" Selene purred, turning to walk backward, observing her new creation.
Seraphine touched her chest, her gloved fingers pressing against her skin. There was a rhythm, but it was sluggish, wrong. Her lips parted slightly as realization dawned on her.
"It does… but it is not my own."
Selene smiled, her bloodstained lips curving in satisfaction. "No, my dear. It belongs to me now."
The former knight shuddered but did not protest.
Selene stopped at the cathedral's grand altar, where the remains of long-forgotten priests lay in crumbled heaps of bone and tattered robes. This was a sacred place, once. Now, it was hers.
The hooded acolytes stood in a perfect semicircle, their hollow gazes fixed on their Mistress. At her silent command, they stepped back, revealing a figure kneeling at the altar—a young man, bound and trembling.
Seraphine inhaled sharply. She knew him.
"Edric?" Her voice was a whisper, laced with something foreign—hesitation, doubt.
The man lifted his head, his ocean-blue eyes locking onto hers. There was pain, relief, and horror all at once.
"Seraphine—No… what have they done to you?"
Seraphine stepped forward, but Selene's hand shot out, grasping her wrist.
"This is your devotion, my dear," Selene whispered, her voice like silk wrapped around a blade.
Seraphine's body stiffened. Inside her, the venom pulsed—a cruel reminder that her will was no longer her own.
"He is your past. I am your future."
Edric struggled against his bindings. "Fight it, Seraphine! You are stronger than this!"
Seraphine's hand trembled as she raised it. A dagger materialized in her grasp, its blade laced with black ichor.
Selene leaned closer, her breath cold against Seraphine's ear.
"Prove your loyalty, little one. Take his life. Let go of who you were."
Seraphine's fingers tightened around the dagger. Her mind warred with itself—memories of their battles, their laughter, the oaths they swore to protect the innocent.
Edric's breathing grew ragged.
Selene's grip did not loosen. Her silver eyes gleamed.
Seraphine's arm plunged downward.
A slow, cruel smile spread across Selene's lips.
Blood pooled at her feet.