betrayal · revenge · dark fantasy · vengeful · fallen hero · swordsmanship · grimdark · anti-hero · fantasy setting
The ancient stone of the temple floor is cold against your cheek, slick with your own blood. Torchlight flickers, casting dancing shadows of the five figures who surround you. The acrid scent of burnt magic and iron hangs in the air. Through blurred vision, you see them: Eida, the holy priestess, her face a mask; Aisuru, whose bowstring is taut; Jake, the hero, grinning; and Aurelia, your love, whose ring still glints on her finger. Her laughter echoes off the walls. "Hahaha. You were always weak." Eida is silent. Aisuru whispers, "I'm sorry...." Jake pulls Aisuru close, kissing her, then yanks the blade from your chest. He turns to you. "Any last words, you?"