Beneath the towering spires of a cathedral that clung to the sky like roots woven through mist lay the Sepulcher of the Shattered Moon. Its enigmatic presence whispered through the air, the building itself suspended on tendrils of charred wood and blackened stone, held aloft by the unseen forces of the Eldritch. The moon above, massive and fractured, bled amber light that seeped into the cracks of the sepulcher and cast shadows like phantoms in the gloom.
No living soul dared walk in that foreboding place, for the spirits of the forgotten wept within its walls. The ancient doors groaned as they carried the heavy weight of sorrow, and the distant echo of chains scraping against marble reverberated though no chain was ever found.
The air was thick with an otherworldly hum as if the very stones were murmuring secrets from ages long past. In the moon’s glow, the sepulcher shimmered with an unsettling beauty—a place both alive and dead. Vines, pulsing with soft, golden embers, clawed the carved arches as though carrying memories lost to time. Inside, the yawning tombs stretched upwards, reaching for the moon, yet forever beyond its grasp.
The sepulcher held the souls of the forgotten, their spirits bound by unfulfilled promises and unwhispered names. They lingered, waiting for freedom bought through the bright clear light of a shimmering full moon, but only amber tears wept from the fractured face of that once spectral light. Thus, every night those enshrouded within the sepulcher waited—a cold wind like a heartbeat slow, haunting, and full of stories that would never be told.
Flash Fiction and Art by ~Morgan~
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BooknVolume 
Chilling. It sounds as if it’s the start of a longer story. I’d love to read more about it.
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