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
Spreading Fires
The Judgment spell, a seventh-circle spell with the destructive power of a miniature sun, was upon us in an instant. The air crackled and warped under the pressure of its approach, and the very stones beneath us groaned and fractured before the magic even struck.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the blinding white light as it engulfed us. My wards flared and groaned, straining against the overwhelming force of the attack. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I poured more and more mana into them, each second feeling weaker and weaker. Hairline cracks spiderwebbed across the surface of my spells, widening ominously as the searing light seeped through. I screamed as it washed over me, burning my skin and tracing lines of agony across the sunpurge.