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
Training
Fyren and I reached the predetermined rendezvous point several minutes early. He had chosen a remote grassy knoll, several miles removed from the bustling city and hidden from the view of any passersby on the roads or waterways. It was an ideal location, affording us the freedom to unleash nearly all of our abilities while concealing our true strength from prying eyes.
After a brief wait, Soltair and Trithe made their appearance, strolling hand in hand up the gentle slopes of the hills. Their contentment radiated, evident in their gentle smiles and the affectionate looks they gave each other. Trithe moved with a light and confident step, and the profound, intimate gazes she and Soltair shared could have made even the most seasoned romantic blush.
"Apologies for our tardiness," Soltair offered, giving Trithe's hand a tender squeeze.