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 Winds of Winter
The long line of soldiers wound through the narrow ravines and jagged chasms like a Crawler itself, dark against the pale blue stone. The sharp scrape of the thousands of steel boots echoed into the air only to be swallowed in the depths of the sky. Clouds, thick and endless as the sea itself, blanketed the entirety of Blue Canyon, turning everything gray and cold.
The Last Light Company pressed on through the chill with heads held high. They had been on the march for nearly three weeks now and were surely exhausted by now, but from my place at the head of the column, they seemed as neat and orderly as the day we left Bluerock City behind. Their armor glistened duly in the gray light, matching the sparkle in their eyes. A few young recruits caught me watching them and, without breaking pace, their faces lit up and they waved.