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
Apostle of the Descent
The following morning, the city was ablaze with excitement. Nobles, servants, and guards buzzed with news concerning the upcoming expedition to the gates, complete with gossip about the arbiter, the arrival of a neighboring kingdom's army, and the incident at the banquet. As I followed Soltair and Trithe through the halls of the castle, I could feel their eyes lingering on my tail and horns, condemning my bloodline. More than a few muttered slurs and curses just loud enough for me to hear.
Soltair's off-handed remark as I fled the hall returned to me again and again. Things hadn't changed. Despite all the hardships I faced, and all the progress I felt I made, I had responded in the same way and fled the banquet. It was fortunate, in a sense, as it orchestrated my conversation with the Arbiter, but I still felt disappointed in myself. I got caught up in the moment and fell back to my old vulnerabilities.