The night was thick with the scent of decay. A fog slithered through the streets of the ruined city below The Rotting Cathedral, curling around broken cobblestones like the fingers of the dead. The silence was deceptive—beneath the ground, beneath the cold earth, something stirred.
Selene Nocturna stood at the cathedral's highest balcony, her tattered cloak billowing as if caught in an unseen breath. Her smile was serene, yet filled with cruel satisfaction. Below, her necrotic energy seeped into the soil, rekindling ancient corpses with a purpose anew.
She tilted her head, listening to the chorus of bones creaking, the soft whimpers of lost souls awakening.
"A banquet awaits," she murmured.
Beside her, the newly-turned girl—**her creation, her fragment, her acolyte—**watched in reverence and fear.
"Mistress, what… will they become?" the girl whispered, her voice trembling.
Selene turned to her, her decayed lips curling.
"What they were meant to be."
With a flick of her wrist, the dead rose.
The earth cracked as skeletal fingers clawed their way to freedom. Tattered flesh clung to brittle bones, vacant eyes flickered with the unnatural glow of Selene's will. A grotesque orchestra of moans and snapping sinew filled the city streets.
Selene's laughter echoed through the night.
"Go, my darlings," she cooed. "The living grow too comfortable in their illusions of safety."
Her horde lurched forward, hunger driving them, their forms twisted by time and Selene's alchemy. Some dragged rusted weapons from their graves, others stumbled on half-eaten limbs. Yet all obeyed her call.
The girl watched in horror and awe. Her hunger gnawed at her, yet she hesitated.
"You hesitate," she mused, brushing a cold hand against the girl's cheek. "Still clinging to the remnants of what you were?"
The girl's lips trembled.
"I… I remember the warmth. The taste of food, the sound of my own heartbeat…"
Selene's expression softened—not with kindness, but with understanding. A predator's patience.
"And now?" she asked.
The girl swallowed, her throat dry. She could feel the hunger rotting inside her, growing, demanding. The scent of life below—warm, vibrant—was unbearable.
Selene tilted her head.
"Indulge, little one."
The girl stepped forward, staring down at the chaos below. The living screamed, running from the tide of death, from the hunger that had no mercy.
Her stomach twisted. Her fangs ached.
With a shuddering breath, she leapt from the balcony, landing gracefully in the streets below.
The fear in a man's eyes as she approached was intoxicating. His pulse—so fast, so fragile.
Her fingers traced his throat.
Then she sank her teeth into his flesh.
The warmth of life flooded her, burning, exhilarating. She drank deeply, her mistress' laughter ringing in her ears.
Above, Selene smiled.