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
More Practice
The dragon, formed entirely of water, shimmered with an ethereal, translucent glow. Waves rippled across its surface, following every curve and contour of its massive form. I felt its ancient, alien consciousness brush against my soul, a connection forged through the magic, and smiled.
With a roar that echoed like crashing waves, the dragon unfurled its wings and soared skyward, spiraling gracefully around me. Each powerful beat of its wings sent shockwaves through the air, summoning storm clouds that unleashed a torrent of rain and wind, punctuated by flashes of lightning.
"It's beautiful," Elise whispered, her voice filled with awe.
R'lissea nodded in agreement. "I think you cast it even better than Korra did during the tournament," she said. "It's much more detailed."
"That's because Xiviyah has actually seen a dragon," Fyren rumbled, his voice a low chuckle. "Magic is as much about visualization as it is about runes."