an oh God no cover THE NOCNITSA ARC CONTINUES!!! I might make this in the ays
In the dim light of the forest, Nocnitsa wandered through the shadows, drawn by an inexplicable pull that whispered Molly's name. He had been searching for her ever since she had gone missing, a week filled with dread and sorrow, and now, against all reason, he felt her presence. The air thickened as he stumbled upon a clearing, where the moonlight spilled like silver over the soft earth. There, in the ethereal glow, stood Molly—but something was dreadfully wrong. She appeared translucent, her body shimmering like a mirage, yet unmistakably familiar. Nocnitsa's heart raced with a mix of hope and terror as he approached. But as he drew closer, the horrifying truth became undeniable: Molly had died three weeks ago. When he reached out to touch her, his fingers met cold air instead of warmth. In an instant, she began to float, her form twisting eerily in the moonlight. Nocnitsa gasped as he took in the ghastly sight—her legs hung by threads of sinew, grotesquely disconnected but levitating just above the ground. Ghostly wisps surrounded her, swirling like mist, shading her visage in a haunting glow. “Molly?” he stammered, horror creeping into his voice. Her eyes, once filled with laughter and life, now burned with accusation. “You! You did this!” she cried, the sound echoing hollowly in the night air. “You were supposed to protect me!” Beneath the surface of her ghostly form, Nocnitsa felt an overwhelming sense of guilt wash over him. Every moment of indecision, every choice that led to her fate seemed to replay in his mind like a twisted film, leaving him paralyzed with remorse. As she drifted closer, he could see the specter of anger and betrayal in her gaze, the weight of her blame tightening around him like a noose. “Molly, I didn’t know... I couldn’t protect you...” he pleaded, but the words felt feeble, inadequate against the storm of her sorrow. The world around them faded, but the reality of her haunting presence remained. Nocnitsa grasped for an explanation, for a way to explain his failure, but words abandoned him. In the quiet of that moonlit night, he faced the truth: the spirit before him was not just a reminder of loss but a manifestation of his deepest regret, echoing the call of a life cut short, a friendship shattered by fate.
