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
New Magic
The Inquisitors pushed me through a doorway and into a large, open room. Another magic circle was etched upon the ground, spanning nearly twenty feet, with another identical circle carved on the ceiling fifteen feet above. A myriad of tools, tomes, and magical devices were spread across several rectangular tables scattered throughout the room. One of the inquisitors snatched an iron collar off a table and snapped it around my neck while the other fastened iron cuffs about my wrists. The first, a black-haired woman with a strong jawline, whispered a word, magically locking them.