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
Approaching the Church
Taking a deep breath, I turned toward the walls of the Heartland, barely a quarter mile away. Korra moved to stand beside me, and together, we headed toward the gates. The forest was soft and still, stricken with a winter breeze. Korra shivered, and I cast a first-circle spell, shielding us from the chill.
"Thanks," she murmured, "I was starting to question my choice of apparel."
I glanced at her, eyes lingering on her exposed, finely-toned stomach, and nodded. "I can't believe you gave up magic. That must have been like cutting off an arm. When Lord Byron took away my mana, I…"
I broke off, staring at my feet as we walked. Korra smiled gently, reaching out to ruffle my heart. "It wasn't easy, but now that I'm here, it was worth it. Besides, I managed to invent a new kind of magical technique. Or, at least, I haven't heard of anyone else using something like it before."
I accepted the change in topic gratefully. "What kind of technique?"