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
Summoned
The forest outside Westfall Village was bright and clear, the verdant canopy shining under the sun, casting large pools of shade between patches of sparkling sunlight. A thick, summer breeze carrying the gentle heat of the evening wafted through the branches, flowing with pollen and the hot with the scent of woodsmoke.
I leaned against the ancient stump, legs curled beneath me and hands folded peacefully in my lap. My eyes drifted between the clash of wooden swords in the corner and the chants of magic happening before me.
"Summon Lesser Spirit: Wind!" Tana cried, her eyes flashing open as her chant came to an end.