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
Visions of Fire
The world burned. There was no other way to describe it. Fire, smoke, and ash swirled through every corner of the small, country village, choking out the air and sending billions of blazing sparks into the night sky. The charred, skeletal remnants of houses disintegrated before my eyes, turning to fine white powder before the supernatural heat of the flames.
A vision. It had been almost a month since I received one, since the day I was freed from the threads of the slave crest.
But something was different about this vision, it felt more real and tangible, like the time I spoke with Fate outside the Western University, before facing the Curse demon. I could feel the lick of flames curling across my intangible skin, the dry, suffocating ash, and the unbearable pressure seizing the entire region.
"Get down!"