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
High Valley
Our travel continued without rest for several days, skirting along the foothills northward. Once we were out of the mountains, the going became easier, yet the monotony of the endless trees soon grew old. Even Soltair and Trithe soon ran out of things to talk about, so I turned my thoughts inward and worked on my soul. Mana control had become second nature to me, yet I still found myself unable to work with it internally. I could roughly guide it around my body, yet beyond simple practices like fighting the basilisk's curse, it was futile. If I could observe the basilisk a few more times, then perhaps I'd learn something, but I could only give in to my frustrations and admit defeat.