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
Clinging Shadows
The Grand Library existed as the intellectual heart of the Western University. The institution was divided into four sprawling wings, whose graceful towers soared high into the alpine air and dark basements entrenched within the depths of the mountains. Almost a third of the campus was connected with the library in some way, laced together by an intricate network of tunnels and corridors, lined with gems, precious metals, and luminous runes.
The vast assortment of spells and knowledge surpassed the furthest reach of my imagination, being the sole reason behind the pretentious claims that the city was a holy land for mages. Endless rows of shelves, seamlessly crafted through some long-lost magical technique, displayed student thesis and ancient, elvish grimoires on equal standing, proclaiming the belief that true knowledge was precious, regardless of source. If only this world felt the same about people.