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
The Western University
The following day, we made toward the distant city. With the end of our month-long journey in sight, Soltair and Trithe were in high spirits, constantly skipping ahead, only turning and waiting impatiently for me to catch up. Fyren remained at my side, but I felt somewhat awkward around him. Why exactly was he so interested in me?
As we approached the city through a low, winding valley, I recognized the towering walls. They rested high above us, built into the mountain itself, but the tips of the central citadel peaked behind the stone curtains.
I took a shaky breath, summoning my staff just so I had something to hold on to. Judging from the lack of damage, the dragon had yet to strike, but for how long? As far as I could tell, none of my visions had been inaccurate, although many hadn't come to pass yet, which meant it was only a matter of time.