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
Reason to Fight
During the time I spent with Elinore, the camp transformed completely. All the tents, except those reserved for non-combatants, had vanished, neatly stowed away in the soldiers' spatial rings. The soldiers stood in formation, a thousand strong in each battalion, spread out like a vast sea of gleaming steel under the starry night sky. Restless murmurs rippled through the ranks like waves on a sea, but a sense of calm and resolve hung in the air. They were ready to face the monsters who had subverted their kingdom and enslaved their families.
The first hints of dawn tinged the eastern sky, a faint glow crowning the distant mountain peaks. Brithlite, nestled between two majestic mountains, glimmered with the light of countless lanterns and magical lights. The combined armies of the Church and the kingdom massed around its imposing walls, their numbers overwhelming—fifty thousand strong, more than double the size of the Last Light Company.