The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
Farewell Banquet
The Farewell Banquet was a small gathering of the local nobles, upper clergy, and heroes. After bidding farewell to Thron, I managed to arrive early and secured a seat in the far corner with my back to the wall. Levin and Grace were already there, but they hardly spared me a glance before returning to their conversation.
As more guests filtered in, I idly grabbed my staff from the air, laying it across my lap and running my hands over the fluted shaft. The strange connection I had with it was intact, but no more noticeable than the subtle tug I felt toward Soltair. Although I'd never used it, I could sense a dormant power locked away in the star-shaped crystal, its mere presence exciting the mana within me.