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
The Hero's Bluff
I froze, unable to comprehend what had happened. The horrified cries of patrons and whores felt distant to my ears, a muted buzz amidst the roaring pulse in my ears. Moving in a daze, I stumbled toward the gaping hole, but Soltair caught me first. He jerked my arm, pulling us outside, where we got a good look at the carnage caused by my unintentional spell.
"Gods," Trithe whispered, staring at the twitching corpse of the once-breathing man.
His body was bent in multiple unnatural angles, twisted and broken almost beyond recognition. Long, jagged lacerations ripped through his clothes and flesh, dying his corpse and the street crimson.
"Xiviyah," Soltair said, his voice stern and low. "What have you done?"
"I-I…I didn't mean to," I finally stammered. "He tried to…and you didn't…I didn't mean to."