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
The Morning After
I awoke as the stench of smoke seared my lungs, clutching at my sword even as I rolled to my feet. The morning's gray light was stained with filth, an ever-spreading plague we'd been fighting for months. Billowing clouds of darkness rolled from the village our squad had taken refuge in, and the blood drained from my face as maniacal cackles rent the air. I drew my sword and took a shaky breath, standing in formation aside the other members of my squad. The smoke and fire twisted as hulking creatures strode through, impossibly immune to the hellish heat of the burning cottages. My blade clattered from my hand it turned, piercing my soul with its fiery gaze. It had horns and scales and a tail and claws and fire and…everything went black.
"Found you…"