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
Change
After a long, hot bath, the servants guided me to a luxurious dressing room. A dry, middle-aged woman arrived a few minutes later, introducing herself as a tailor.
"Oh, you poor thing," she fussed, twirling around my slender body and taking measurements. She spent the most time examining my Sunpurged shoulder, taking the surface area of the wound and the distance it extended down my bicep. Hot tingles crept through my body as her fingers traced around the glowing lines, but I held still until she finished. The tailor then asked for my preferences, which I readily supplied, inspired by the off-shoulder dresses I'd worn at the Divine Throne.
The tailor jotted down a few notes and left, promising to return in a few hours before the banquet. Meanwhile, the remaining servants, who were all Beastkin slaves, found a loose, sleeveless dress for me to wear in the meantime, and I was ushered to a guestroom.