The Rotting Cathedral quivered in protest. The ancient bones lining its walls cracked, and the very air trembled under the oppressive weight of Selene Nocturna's fury.
The Harbinger's mist still lingered, tainting her domain with its rebellious essence. It was unnatural, violating the sanctity of her plague-forged sanctuary. Selene's power had never been challenged .
With a low snarl, she tore back her hood, revealing her decayed yet radiant face. Her golden eye flared with venomous intensity, and her lips, stained with dried blood, curled into a sneer.
"You think you can steal from me?" she spat, her voice echoing with layered whispers—voices of the dead that now stirred with agitation.
The Harbinger, still standing, exhaled raggedly. The glyphs seared into their arms pulsed, veins blackening further as the corruption fought against their will. They were dying, yet they stood their ground.
"I am not here to steal, Nocturna." Their voice was firm despite the agony laced within.
Selene felt it wrapping around her limbs, attempting to bind her.
But she was no prisoner.
With a flick of her wrist, the surrounding corpses shuddered, their brittle bones snapping back into place. A dozen skeletal wraiths clawed their way out of the cathedral's walls, their hollow eyes filled with a blasphemous hunger.
"You will kneel before me, Harbinger," Selene murmured, stepping forward. Her presence alone commanded the dead.
The first wraith lunged—only to be obliterated by a sudden explosion of violet fire.
Selene stopped cold. That magic—it was not hers.
She turned her gaze back to the Harbinger. Their body was changing.
The plague that had once been a curse upon them was now evolving into something else. Their rotting flesh mended in places yet corroded in others, forming something between life and undeath.
Selene's lips parted slightly. This was impossible.
"You…" she whispered, realization creeping in.
The Harbinger looked up. Their eyes—once dim—now burned with an unholy brilliance.
"You never wanted to stop my plague," Selene breathed. "You wanted to become it."
A sudden tremor split the ground beneath them. The cathedral's altar, once a symbol of Selene's unchallenged dominion, began to crack.
The Harbinger raised their hand, and the mist condensed into something tangible— something sentient.
A new force was being born.
Selene's fingers twitched. For the first time in centuries, she felt something she had long forgotten.
The Harbinger smiled, their plague-ravaged lips stretching into something inhuman.
"Your reign is ending, Pale Widow."
The cathedral collapsed.