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
War Council
The next day, I was summoned to appear in the Chapel of Councils, the general meeting room of the church. I was slightly nervous, as the only reason I had ever been regarded my slave crest, but refusing was impossible. Fortunately, by the time I climbed my way up from the slave quarters, I found the other nine heroes already assembled.
The gathering within the chapel was small, consisting of the heroes, the Pope, and a few Fathers. All of the clergy were unfamiliar, and their garb and accents differed greatly from the Fathers I knew who lived at the Divine Throne. Were we gathered for some sort of worldwide council?
"Welcome, Xiviyah," the Pope said, gesturing to the only empty seat in their circle.
I nodded, cheeks reddening slightly as everyone's eyes focused on me. "I apologize for my late arrival," I said, giving a slight curtsy. "But I came as soon as I was summoned."