The Rotting Cathedral's hymn had begun, its echoes seeping into the marrow of the city. The masked intruder's body spasmed in an alley drenched in sickly moonlight. Veins, once flowing with purpose, now twisted and darkened, puppeteered by Selene's will. He clutched his chest, the crimson sigil pulsing like a second, poisoned heart.
"She's found me," he rasped, coughing up filaments of black bile.
Far above, perched upon a ruined spire, Selene Nocturna watched. Her hood concealed most of her face, but the gleam of yellowed teeth curling into a smile was unmistakable. Her Dark Arms twitched, clawed shadows writhing in delight.
"I gave you a chance to kneel," she whispered, though the words traveled like spiders skittering through the air, wrapping themselves around the dying man's ears. "But you chose arrogance over reverence. And so, dear intruder, you will die singing my dirge."
The masked man trembled, but his hands did not falter. With a defiant snarl, he reached into the satchel slung across his body, withdrawing a phial of rippling azure liquid. His fingers trembled, the infection gnawing at his tendons, but he forced the vial to his lips.
The reaction was instant.
A violent surge of alchemical fire erupted from his veins, consuming the sigil in a cascade of cerulean light. The markings cracked, then shattered, as his body convulsed. Pain. Burning, searing pain. But the masked man stood.
Selene's eyes narrowed.
With a flick of her wrist, the cathedral's walls lurched forward, shifting and stretching like a living thing. The dead cackled from the rafters, their voices merging into a singular, haunting screech. The very air reeked of rot and triumph.
Her robes billowed, the intricate alchemical trinkets adorning her form clinking softly as she landed mere steps from her prey. The masked man lifted his blade—a silvered dagger inscribed with runes of protection.
"So tedious. You alchemists believe metal and scripture can rival plague and eternity." She tilted her head, observing him like a scientist examining a failed experiment.
Then, with inhuman swiftness, she lunged.
The masked man barely dodged. The air rippled where she struck, the shadows of her Dark Arms tearing into the stone behind him, leaving behind a gaping wound in reality itself.
He twisted, slashing at her exposed throat.
Selene caught the blade between two fingers.
For the first time, the masked man hesitated.
Selene grinned, her teeth slick with black ichor.
"Did you think I wouldn't learn?" she purred. With a cruel twist, she snapped the blade in half.
The masked man's heart pounded.
Selene leaned in. "Run, little alchemist. The dirge has only begun."