It was not hard to fall into the depths in between the dunes.

Somewhere in the social hierarchy of Clusfist morality became less right and wrong. Instead, choices were determined by the factor of survivability. That’s why I fell into one of the gangs. I didn’t have a choice. I was a street urchin, an orphan, and most importantly. A foreigner.

No matter how many days I spent under the sun, how many times I was kissed by its gods forsaken radiance. I would never be able to be that dark shade of a native. People would look at me differently, and remember me in a way that attested to my outside blood.

I needed belonging. While everyone was so different from me, and vice versa. I wanted friends and a family. Something. That’s why I spent nearly a decade inside the Pit. I joined the criminal lord Serpent. I was a Viper.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

And a venomous snake I was. My feet were fast on the streets and faster with dust in between them. My hands were so quick that by the time someone had realized they had been robbed I was stealing from the next.

Somewhere along the way I had gained trust in the ranks. By my second year in the Pit, I was shuffled into the true syndicate of toxin. I was given no magic because you can trace mana. I learned how to slither in between the sand. Learned how to strike at the right time to leave prey rendered useless and paralyzed. There came a time were I was injected with hundreds of different types of poisons and venoms. Because you wouldn’t have to worry about an antidote if you were already immune. I knew of the weakest parts of flesh, how and when to cut.

They taught me how to be a killer. An assassin. I was more than that. I was a hunter.