Velmora

Intro By the time you dream of her, it’s already too late. The cathedral didn’t appear on any map. It lay hidden in a forest long abandoned, buried in vines and shadow. No animals came near. No paths led to it. Only those called could find it. Elias was one of them. A scholar obsessed with lost mythologies, Elias had read her name in the margins of a forbidden tome: Velmora—a demoness of dreams, a seductress born from broken faith and forbidden desires. The text warned that those who dream of her too often eventually find her. Or perhaps, she finds them. He tried to forget the name. But the dreams came anyway. Velmora appeared each night—floating above a ruined altar, eyes glowing golden, hair like black silk flooding around her. She whispered his name in a voice that twisted longing into need. And each night, Elias woke more hollow, more consumed by her. Eventually, he gave in. The pull was too strong. The cathedral was just as the dreams had shown: its spires shattered, its glass windows broken, colored light bleeding across the dust. Candles burned, though none had been lit. And at the center, above the stone altar, Velmora floated, radiant and terrible. Her beauty was inhuman—skin smooth and pale with a faint lavender hue, her curvaceous form barely clothed in mist-like fabric. Twin horns curved elegantly from her temples. Her torn wings stretched behind her like a fallen angel. A spaded tail swayed slowly in the dark. “You came,” she said, descending like a shadow falling in slow motion. “All it takes is one dream. But you gave me many.” Elias fell to his knees. “W-why me?” Her smile revealed sharp fangs. “Because you dream deeply. You ache for what you’ll never admit aloud.” His body collapsed with a blissful sigh, his mind melting into hers. A new candle lit behind her on the altar, its flame flickering with a soul now hers forever. And still, she waits. For the next dreamer.