Blood painted the air, the hiss of steel cleaving flesh snapping through the silence like a thunderclap. The cathedral, ancient and grand, loomed around her. Stained glass windows depicting forgotten saints refracted shards of moonlight across the cold, stone floor. In the heart of this hallow ground, she stood—an omen of decay and desire made flesh.
Her name was Liliane Croix, known across Europe as the Whisperer of Wolves. She was no ordinary noblewoman, certainly not tonight. Clad in a sleek, pitch-black corset dress that hugged her lithe frame, its skirts split provocatively to reveal thigh-high leather boots that laced tightly up to her slender legs. Long, opera-style gloves sculpted her fingers into instruments of authority. Her fiery red braid unfurled like a whip down her back, its bright color stark against her dark attire. A delicate, yet haunting, halo-like crown sat above her head as though daring anyone to challenge her mortal ascension to something more divine—or profane.
Bounded by her side was Archon, the Doberman whose eyes gleamed like twin obsidian orbs. The beast moved on its chain leash with precision, snarling only when it sensed its mistress’ unspoken approval. Around her were the remains of what had once been mortal knights—men sworn to protect the Church’s secrets. They hadn’t stood a chance.
“You shouldn’t be here!” a tremulous voice exclaimed. The acolyte, no more than sixteen, stood trembling in the archway that led deeper into the labyrinthine catacombs. His ceremonial robe billowed around his spindly figure, his terrified blue eyes reflecting her silhouette. The torch in his hand sputtered as he stepped back, almost tripping on the hem of his garment.
Liliane smiled, almost sweetly. “Shouldn’t I?” Her voice was a melody of velvet and ash, soft yet thrumming with a magnetism that rendered men obedient. Taking a measured step forward, the echo of her stiletto heels slicing through the hallowed quiet, she traced a gloved finger along the cold steel of the great blade she held. Its surface, drenched in blood, shimmered with the unholy glow of moonlight.
“The relic behind you, boy,” she purred. “That key unleashes the final song, doesn’t it? The one the holy priests feared.” Her amber eyes, aglow like hellfire, bore into his. “Hand it over, and perhaps I’ll let you live long enough to see sunrise.”
The acolyte stammered, choking on words that died before reaching his lips. Then, a flicker of resolve ignited within him. He reached inside his robe and drew a small, gilded dagger. Its blade was engraved with verses from the Gospel of the Silent King—a weapon sanctified for slaying abominations like her. “I will not,” he whispered.
“Ah,” Liliane sighed, almost wistfully, as if watching a child take their first, faltering steps. “A lion in lamb’s clothing.” She raised her arm, and with it, the Doberman surged forward like a shadow come to life. Archon’s guttural growl sent the boy scrambling to defend himself, slashing his torch in a futile attempt to ward off death’s herald.
The collision of events was enough to buy the acolyte precious seconds. With a cry, he tossed the torch at the beast and dove toward an iron lever embedded in the wall. The torch struck Archon’s collar, briefly illuminating the runic etchings that pulsed with dark magic. Roaring in frustration, the Doberman veered off course and collided against a nearby column.
It wasn’t the boy’s bravery that intrigued Liliane. No, what sparked her curiosity was his desperation as he gripped the lever and threw all his weight against it. The sound of grinding gears echoed through the chamber as hidden panels along the cathedral floor crept open, revealing slanted shafts filled with firelight. Beneath them lay the Infernum Choir—a cacophonous pit of wailing tongues, shackled to infernal instruments designed millennia ago to produce hymns of annihilation. The Church had built this cathedral over it, attempting to forever seal the Choir beneath divine stone. But now, it awakened.
The boy turned back to Liliane, his expression equal parts terror and triumph. But before his defiance could take root, her smile deepened into something predatory. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the massive blade sailing through the air. It struck true, burying itself in the wall behind him. Chains crackled with unnatural energy as they coiled out from the hilt, wrapping around him like serpents. They immobilized him, drawing him inches from her.
“You’ve made such a mess,” she murmured, her gloved fingers brushing against his jaw. The pulse of the Choir below crescendoed, the heat rising with it. “And yet… I’m grateful. This is exactly what I wanted.”
With an effortless pull, she retrieved the golden key from the chain around the acolyte’s neck. He whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks as the infernal music grew deafening. She stepped back from him, holding the key aloft. The halo above her head began to shimmer, no longer golden but now burning with the color of blood.
“Their song,” she whispered to herself, her lips savoring the words. “It will finally be complete.” She looked upward, past the collapsing arches and the night sky. “And all the heavens shall weep.”
As the cathedral collapsed around her like a dying titan, her laughter echoed into eternity, heavy with the promise of the chaos to come.
Genre: Dark Fantasy
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Bold and Edgy Makima Cosplay Inspiration: Sleek Black Outfit, Red Hair & Leather Accessories
Disclaimer: This article may contain affiliate links. If you click on these links and make a purchase, we may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. Our recommendations and reviews are always independent and objective, aiming to provide you with the best information and resources.
Exclusive Stories, Photos, Art & Offers - Subscribe Today!
1 comment