The scent of rot clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Aldric Vayne's hands trembled as he held his sword—a weapon that felt useless against the nightmare before him.
Selene Nocturna stood mere steps away, her ghastly grin splitting her blood-stained lips. She tilted her head slightly, as if admiring a wounded animal struggling to take its last breath.
"You ran well, Captain." Her voice was honeyed venom, soft yet laced with malice. "But even the strongest will shatters beneath the Pale Widow's gaze."
Aldric staggered back, his boots scraping against the cold, corpse-littered cobblestone. Shadows swirled around Selene, moving like they had a will of their own. Her wraiths, her children, her loyal dead.
His breathing was ragged. Was this where it ended?
Summoning every last ounce of strength, he lunged—his sword whistling through the air, aimed for her throat.
She merely raised a hand.
The blade stopped inches from her skin, frozen in place by an unseen force. A cold, cruel chuckle escaped her lips.
A sickening crack echoed as her fingers tightened in the air, and Aldric's body contorted against his will. He screamed, falling to his knees.
Selene crouched beside him, her face inches from his. Her breath smelled of decay, of old death, of something far worse than the grave.
"Shhh," she cooed, pressing a pale finger against his lips. "No need to struggle, dear knight. I offer you something greater than life. A mercy."
Aldric's body convulsed, the black veins of her necrotic power slithering across his skin.
And then… he stopped.
His breath stilled. His eyes dimmed.
Selene's smile widened.
Slowly, Aldric rose to his feet once more.
His sword clattered to the ground, forgotten. His lips parted, but no words came.
Selene traced a single, delicate nail down his cheek.
"Now," she whispered, her voice crawling into his mind like a parasite, "let's find the rest of your kind… and bring them home."
Aldric did not resist.