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“Please, by the gods of Valdaryn, please be okay…”
William breathed out in panic, his booted feet rushing through the thick undead forests located a few days' ride from his Kingdom of Brightmoor. These forests hadn’t always been so grim, once full of life and abundance. The forests were now lacking luster, overgrown with undead vines and creatures not of this realm.
His party which involved himself and five of his closest companions had been separated after an attack by the new shadow that had currently been spreading across their lands; the voidspawn predators known as the blightbloom with their lanky bodies and heads like dagger lined flowers. He found himself quite lucky that it had been just the blightbloom at the current moment, the fear of their canine like counterparts chasing him instead causing a shiver to crawl up his spine, he hated the blighthounds.
For you see, William was just but a mere Cleric, though skilled in magic and dangerous from a range, it had always required more concentration than that of their Paladin or Thief; even their Ranger and Mage had more mobility then he could ever dream of. Their Bard and himself were typically stationed the farthest from battles, aiming to help support their friends as best they could while also staying out of melee's path.
It was why he was in this position in the first place and not with the rest, the distance between him and the party being the cause of his separation. How could they have allowed this to happen? They had always been so careful, precise in their encampments and patrols.
How did such a horde of Blights strike upon them like that? He thought back on it all, not once stopping his rush back through the forests as the rune of 'oath' under his left ear burned with the color of azure blue, the prickling of tears in his eyes collecting without his knowledge as he recalled those last moments. . .
It had been in the middle of the night when the attack had happened, the chaos of it all having caused the party to separate without time to even think.
He watched in what seemed like slow motion as Maxine, their Thief, grabbed the wrist of their Ranger, Lucas and bolted to the north. Her fiery red hair flickering through the shadows between the trees as Lucas tried to fight her grip at first, desperately trying to get her to turn back around and, "--Help the party!", however she did not relent; a small pack of blighthounds nipping at their boots.
Their Bard, Dustin-- in a stumble-- managed to dodge the lunge from one of the blightblooms thanks to a critical blast from their Mage, Jane; The two darting off to the west as Jane held her fleeting glance to William, as if telling him 'it will be okay' before using her abilities to pull down the dying trees between them as she ran.
The last he had seen of the party was Michael, their brave leader and Paladin desperately trying to slash through the foes that surrounded those of the party heading towards the west, his claymore cutting the head off an eager blighthound in one hefty swoop.
It was chaos... Michaels panicked eyes having caught sight of Williams through sprays of black blood as he yelled as best he could, the rune of 'light' glowing a vibrant gold at the base of his exposed neck; curls of his long raven hair brushing against it.
"RUN WILLIAM! DON'T YOU DARE LOOK BACK, RUN!"
It was all that had been said before the trees that Jane forced down created a wall between them... And so he ran, ran as quickly as his booted feet allowed, his armored purple battle robes fluttering in the wind as he leapt through the mangled forests to the east with his staff in hand. The snarling sounds and heavy steps of the beast behind him was all that he could hear alongside the air rushing past his ears.
The farther he separated from the party, the stronger the developing ache of his heart grew. This isn't good. The fearful thought flitted through his mind, repeating itself over and over again as the young cleric leapt over fallen trees, sliding down vine infested mounds and picking up speed whenever his adrenaline allowed it.
He needed to make haste. Find a moment to plant his feet and face the beast. The rune upon his neck, his soul mark, had begun to burn something fierce; crying out in agony the farther he separated from his destined pair. It wouldn't be long before the ache would be too much, draining him of the ability to hopefully take down the blight following him.
I need to get back to them! The party! ...Michael.
It had been with this last, desperate thought that William began his incantation, planting himself suddenly before quickly spinning around on his feet with eyes that glowed a pristine white, his staff being held out before him as a flash of radiant light struck the blightbloom that had been mere feet away from taking him down.
It had been a critical hit. Based off the way the beast wailed before disintegrating in ashen smoke; floating off into the air as the brunette fell to his knees, desperately trying to regain himself. He needed to breathe... A task that would prove to be impossible until he was rightfully returned to the arms of his soulmate.
He hadn't been sure how much time had passed since he slayed the creature. Night had begun to turn into early day, turning the sky an array of colors. It had always taken time for him to comeback to after using such an ability and typically he would have been protected and nursed back to health by the party; Michael eager for him to rest for the rest of the day. This time was different for obvious reasons, he was alone and thus the time in which he had blacked out was unknown.
One thing was for certain, however. The energy was leaving his body like small grains of sand within an hourglass, like a candle slowly burning out as the pages of a book continued to turn towards its finish. He wouldn't have much time at all now, he needed to keep moving; he need to follow the tug of that red string that attached his soul to the ravenette paladin who made him whole.
And so the Cleric moved, forcing himself up weakly before managing to start back at a slower pace, each step towards the west relieving a small fraction of ache upon his mark and body.
Reliving the moment post adrenaline had caused tears to finally spill down his cheeks, boots now managing to move with more energy through the path back as a sleeved wrist wiped at his face.
It had been a shadow-span since he had killed the blightbloom and started his journey back west, back towards the party he had prayed were all in one piece. He had not a single inkling on how far or how long he had been running before, the only means of knowing he was going in the right direction being the steady aching of his soul mark that kept his direction true.
He would find the party.
He would find Michael.
No matter the cost.