NOVPUB724: Story 724: The Harvest of Shadows
724: Story 724: The Harvest of Shadows
The blood moon hung low over the Rotting Cathedral, bathing its decrepit spires in a sickly crimson glow.
The battlefield outside was eerily still—the shattered remains of Aldric and his doomed brigade lay strewn across the cursed soil, their bones twisted into grotesque shapes.
Selene Nocturna stood at the threshold of her domain, her blackened lips curling into a smirk as she stepped over the remnants of her latest victims.
The mist clung to her form like a living shroud, writhing and twisting as if feeding off the despair in the air.
“Fools.” She whispered, kneeling beside Aldric’s broken remains.
She pressed her decayed fingers against his skull, muttering an incantation.
The air grew cold.
The bones twitched.
A grotesque moan rose from the shattered corpse as its form reassembled itself, sinew knitting together in unnatural shapes.
Aldric’s lifeless eyes snapped open—empty, void of all humanity.
“Rise, my knight.
Serve me in death, since you failed in life.”
His body jerked, pulled upward by unseen forces.
His jaw unhinged in a silent scream as the plague magic overtook him.
Selene grinned, stepping back to admire her work.
Another pawn.
Another puppet.
The winds howled through the ruined cathedral, carrying whispers of unrest.
Selene turned sharply, sensing an unfamiliar presence.
The shadows along the broken pillars stirred, coalescing into something more than mist.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Show yourself.”
From the darkness stepped a figure clad in tattered silver robes, their face obscured by an ornate plague doctor’s mask.
Unlike the mercenaries before, this one did not tremble.
“Selene Nocturna.” The voice was hollow, layered with something unnatural.
Selene tilted her head, intrigued.
Few dared to speak her name without trembling.
“And who might you be?” she mused.
The figure did not answer.
Instead, they raised a gnarled, rusted censer, swinging it in slow, deliberate arcs.
A thick black fog spilled forth, swirling with ancient alchemical symbols.
The air stung with the scent of rot and something… familiar.
Selene’s eyes darkened.
“Ah… a Plaguebringer.”
The masked figure took a step forward.
“Not just any Plaguebringer, Widow.
I am the Harbinger.
And I have come to take what you stole.”
Selene laughed, a cruel, lilting sound.
“Is that so?”
Her fingers curled, and the mist surged forward, seeking to devour the stranger—but the Harbinger did not flinch.
Instead, they whispered a single word.
The mist recoiled.
Selene’s smirk vanished as pain lanced through her veins.
The cursebinding.
“Ah… interesting.” She exhaled, straightening.
The Harbinger lowered their censer, revealing a sigil glowing upon their palm.
“Your reign is at its end, Pale Widow.”
Selene’s eyes burned with amusement.
“Then let’s see you try and take it from me.”
The shadows collapsed upon them both.
