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
Alone in the Dark
I stumbled through the streets, my cloak drawn tight about me. Alverin's illusion had gone, yet the sun still felt cold and distant, shadows seeming to reach out to me wherever I went. The streets hummed with hushed murmurs, everyone looking over their shoulders, casting their eyes suspiciously at the other passersbys. Patrols of heavily armored guards ranged everywhere, stopping people at random for rough interrogations, still searching for the perpetrators of the battle.
Every step was labored and unsteady, and I had to stop many times to rest. Because I had burned my soul, it would be a long time until my mana began to trickle back, leaving me drained and dry. The summer breeze dragged over my skin, hot and oppressive, stinging my exposed wounds, yet the chill refused to depart from my bones, wracking me with shivers.