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
Quiet Evening
The following events were a blur, a hazy recollection of Luke's army withdrawing peacefully. The next thing I knew, I was blinking awake in my tent, wrapped in Fable's comforting warmth and familiar scent.
"Good evening," Elinore's crisp voice greeted me.
I yawned, mumbling an incoherent reply as I slowly blinked the sleep from my eyes. Everything ached, as expected, but not as intensely as I'd feared. The sunpurge was a dull throb at the back of my mind—unpleasant, but not debilitating. My soul, however...
Tears welled up as I reached for my mana. It hadn't been a dream. I was healed.
"Xiviyah, are you alright?" Elinore was at my side in a flash. "Where does it hurt? Damn it, I thought I had healed everything."
I shook my head, looking up at her with tears shimmering in my eyes. "I'm alright. It's... it's gone. My soul is healed."