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
Resolution
I spent the next few minutes recounting my vision, sharing the details I had gleaned from Verity and Soltair. R'lissea listened intently, her expression growing increasingly serious as I spoke. When I finished, a heavy silence fell over the room, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire and the soft melody drifting from the unseen source.
"To think they won't even acknowledge that we've chosen to stand against them," R'lissea muttered. She stared into her empty bowl, expression troubled, before shaking her head and meeting my gaze. "I don't want to fight them, Xiviyah, but if they come for us, I will. I won't let them take you again."
"R'lissea," I said, eyes misting up slightly. "There might be heroes among them."
She shook her head resolutely. "No friends of mine would try to enslave cities or worlds. And I know I'm not alone in thinking that. It's why the elves have been resisting the Church's edicts."