The Rotting Cathedral stood defiant against time, its crumbling spires enshrouded in sickly green mist. Inside, Selene Nocturna—Pale Widow, Plaguebringer, Death's Alchemist—stood before her grand altar of decay. She had nearly won. Nearly.
Her skeletal lips curled into a smirk as she traced a gloved finger over the bones of her latest offering—a would-be assassin sent by the last remnants of resistance. The fool had tried to strike her in her own sanctum. Now, his flesh served her collection of horrors.
Whispering tendrils of necrotic energy slithered through the air as she turned to her war council. Her commanders—twisted generals of bone, rot, and venom—knelt in reverence. The war against Kruger and his defiled warriors had been drawn into its final act. The factions of men and light had dwindled to flickering embers, their champions long crushed beneath Selene's grasp.
Yet, she knew that something lingered beyond the veil of her dominion. A shift in the winds. The scent of ruin—her ruin.
A sudden quake shook the cathedral, sending dust and fragments of old scripture fluttering from the rafters. A violent, unnatural wail echoed through the chamber, piercing even the ears of the dead. Selene's golden eyes narrowed as she sensed it—a force unlike any other, clawing its way toward her domain.
The last defier of her rule had arrived, and he was not alone.
Through the shattered stained glass windows, she watched as the battlefield outside her cathedral twisted with war. Her forces, the damned and the diseased, surged against an onslaught of armored warriors bearing weapons imbued with light. They should have faltered, but they did not. The air stank of divine interference.
Selene clenched her fists.
"The false gods have answered your prayers, have they?" she murmured, tilting her head. "How adorable."
Her voice slithered through the chamber like venom.
She raised her hand, her alchemy-weaved veins pulsing with sickly green ichor. The dead rose, more monstrous than before. Their twisted, grotesque forms crawled over the battlefield, their shrieks merging into a nightmarish chorus.
A heavy thud struck the cathedral's great door. Then another.
Selene exhaled slowly, a smirk curving her lips.
The doors burst apart, sending splinters through the air. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by flickering torchlight, was Kruger. His armor was battered, his face bloodied, but his gaze was unwavering. Behind him, warriors of light flooded into the cathedral.
Selene took a step forward, her blackened teeth glinting under the dim glow of her alchemic lanterns.
"So," she purred, voice dripping with amusement. "You've finally come to die?"
Kruger said nothing. He simply raised his sword.
The final battle had begun.