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
Hints of a Cure
I remembered only snapshots of the following few days. Arriving in the camp of the Last Light Company, nearly falling off of Fable, being surrounded by worried faces, and the scolding of a very irritated Elinore. Through it all, the horrible ache of my soul and the scorching heat of the sunpurge.
It was almost a week later that I regained full coherence, sitting up in bed with a sharp breath. Sweat soaked my thin nightdress and my breath was short and erratic. I groped blindly around me, searching for warm, silken fur but found only blankets. Light ones, at that, given the sensitive nature of the sunpurge.