NOVPUB722: Story 722: The Choir
722: Story 722: The Choir
The Rotting Cathedral pulsed like a living thing, its ancient walls breathing with the whispers of the damned.
A chorus of hollow voices echoed through its decayed halls, a symphony of suffering orchestrated by Selene Nocturna.
She stood at the altar, draped in shadows, watching the newborn abomination writhe at her feet.
Lucien was gone.
What remained was something else—his body twisted, veins webbed with dark ichor, his once-human eyes now blackened voids.
Selene smiled.
“Sing for me.”
The creature gasped, its breath rattling with the weight of the curse that had reshaped it.
And then, it screamed.
The walls trembled.
The chorus answered.
From the depths of the Cathedral, the Hollow Choir awoke.
Dozens of figures stirred within the dark, their flesh stitched with sickness, their bones humming with unnatural resonance.
They were her choir—lost souls reshaped by her Plague Alchemy, bound forever in undeath.
Selene extended a hand, and the creature that was once Lucien stumbled toward her.
Its lips parted, but no words came. 𝒏𝙤𝙫𝒑𝙪𝙗.𝙘𝒐𝙢
Only a haunting melody—a wail that carried sorrow, agony, and devotion.
“Beautiful,” Selene whispered, her golden eyes gleaming.
But something shifted.
A disturbance in her domain.
The distant echo of footsteps—outsiders.
Selene turned sharply, the scent of the living cutting through the stench of decay.
Intruders dared to enter her sanctuary?
She stepped down from the altar, her cloak billowing like a storm behind her.
The Hollow Choir followed.
In the grand corridor, a trio of figures moved cautiously.
They bore silver weapons, their expressions grim.
Hunters.
Selene’s smile faded.
“Do you hear it?” one of them whispered.
A woman, clutching a blessed blade, her eyes darting to the shadows.
“It’s singing.”
Then the darkness came alive.
The Choir surged forward, a tide of wailing monstrosities.
The hunters barely had time to react before the first of them was dragged into the abyss, his screams drowned in the symphony of the damned.
The woman swung her blade, severing the arm of a twisted figure, only for it to keep coming, singing as it bled.
Selene watched from the darkness, admiring the struggle.
“You came for me,” she called out, her voice lilting with amusement.
“Such devotion.”
The remaining hunters turned, weapons raised.
Selene stepped into the light, her lips stained red, her presence suffocating.
“Kneel.”
Their bodies seized.
Their lungs filled with rot.
One fell to his knees, choking.
Another clutched her throat, her veins darkening.
Selene sighed, stepping closer.
“You cannot silence my Choir.”
The last hunter—a lone survivor—gazed up at her in horror as the Choir closed in, their song reaching its crescendo.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
Selene smiled.
The Hollow Choir had found a new voice.
