Author_of_Fate

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?

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The Forsaken Hero

The trace currents of Black Mist grew thicker as we drew into the forest. The trees were dark and wired, their leaves drifting to the ground like autumn fall. We crossed a few corpses of Risen slain by Zephyriss's demons, leaking visible wisps of black mist. It curled toward us, only to fade away again.

"It's getting worse," R'lissea said, frowning as a small stream of mist curled around a few trees, drawn to our souls. "But why isn't it touching the demons? It's supposed to be drawn to life energy."

"It is," I said, frowning. "But it's hard to see with only the visible part, but that man is drawn right to the center of the horde. But then…it gets lost and disperses. Like water running into oil."

Path of the Risen