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
Kindled Sparks
*A/N: As I'm sure you've figured out by now, the tags on this novel aren't for show. This chapter especially contains some dark and potentially disturbing themes, getting a little more graphic than I usually go. Just thought I'd give you a heads-up.
The doors of the Drunken Lily opened to reveal a grand lobby, trimmed with gold and darkly stained wood. Several marble statues depicting scantily clad women stood as sentinels in the corners, overlooking the waiting seats and front counter. Two sets of stairs ascended around the counter, joining together in a grand staircase that provided access to the upper floors. Several dozen human men milled about the polished stone floor, clutching numbered wooden cards and waiting for the mistress to call them forward.
Soltair's shining armor drew immediate attention, prompting a beefy man to approach. He wore a sleeveless leather vest and had a short sword and club strapped to his belt.