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
Heart of the Chain
"No, wait, don't-agggh!"
I closed my eyes, turning away as the last guard flew across the room, ribs protruding from the gaping hole in his chest. The hallway was a mess of blood and gore–what little remained of a patrol of slavers–but hardly unique. We'd left several such massacres in our wake, brutally slaughtering every slaver we came across.
Fable shook the blood from his coat and padded over, looking at me curiously. I snuck another glance at the bodies strewn across the corridor, my tail curling despondently.
"I'm alright," I said, my eyes flicking to the door behind where the slavers had stood. "Let's just get this over with."
As my hand rested on the doorknob, I hesitated, anxiety twisting within me like a bow. This was it. The last slave room, marked with a big "10" in the center. She was going to be here. She had to be.