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
Stalking the Streets
I barely had time to tighten my grip around Luke's neck before Jessia reached out and laid a hand on each of our shoulders. I felt a surge of unfamiliar mana deep within her soul, and a thick cloud of darkness erupted from her shadow, rising to swallow us whole. Adaptive Resistance instinctively surged within me, and I hesitated a moment before reluctantly suppressing it, allowing the Apostle to activate her ability.
The darkness was cold and uncomfortable, scratching like raw wool against my skin. It felt eerily similar to the power that festered in Haven, and seemed to provoke a reaction from it. I shivered as the darkness within my soul stirred, and I drew closer to Luke, instinctively trying to siphon some of his body heat and ward off the bitter chill. He shifted, surprised, likely attributing my clinging to him to nervousness, but still held me closer.