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
Mark of the Inferno
I remained seated on the cold stone floor for a few moments, twisting my staff thoughtfully, processing the information I'd gleaned from the vision. The method of casting, using a crystal formation like that, was completely unfamiliar to me, yet it hadn't been able to hide its secrets from the Oracle of Eternity. I had clearly seen its purpose and the intricate workings of the spell. It wouldn't be easy to stop, but at least I was no longer fighting an invisible enemy.
My hands tightened around my staff, knuckles white, as I recalled the rest of the vision, the image of Elise twisted and tormented. Every time I sought a glimpse of the future, she seemed to be there, just out of reach, a haunting reminder of my failure. Her presence left a dull ache in my heart, and seeing her treated as nothing more than a plaything for Alverin's twisted desires filled me with a rage that threatened to consume me.