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
Misunderstood?
A shiver crawled down my spine, and I took an unconscious step back. "Demonkin?" I felt no connection to others of my race, except empathy for their persecution, but my heart broke for Soltair, who must have suffered as he was forced to cut down those who looked like me.
Regardless of the reason, Soltair's face was black, his voice expressionless. "We killed them all. Even when they surrendered, and begged for mercy. I couldn't stop myself.."
Trithe looked at him, her eyes softening. "We did what we had to. Who knows how many more they might have killed."
"But were all of them guilty? Surely, the children hadn't participated in the massacre," he said hoarsely. Tears gathered in his eyes but refused to fall.
"This is a war, Soltair. War isn't all glory and riches, but filled with horror," she said softly. Her eyes wavered slightly, allowing me to see a rare moment of vulnerability. "I don't like it either, but it's what you were sent here to do."