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
Sounds in the Night
The small village was dark and silent. The buildings, numbering no more than twenty, were crude and unfinished, built from lumber harvested from the twisted swamp trees. Perched on knotted stilts, the structures stood above the muddy ground, their roofs woven from reeds and windows mere gaps in the slanted walls, covered by drapes of tangled strings.
"Hello?" Soltair called, standing tall amidst the marsh.
"Shhh!" Trithe shot him a scathing look, but could only cringe as his voice echoed hollowly through the village.
We waited a few seconds, but the silence that followed was as deep as the oncoming night itself. A faint breeze drifted over the surface of the water, filling the air with the rasp of trembling cattails and caressing my skin with icy fingers. Something in the wind resonated with my soul, sending my mana into a chaotic fit. The sensation sent a shiver through my body, and I hugged my arms tightly about my chest.