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4-01 No Soul Is Claimed

The risen paladin searched the soul Where creeping blight had seized control. Yet through that stain his vision found A living tie by friendship bound. Within the boy, the darkness stirred, Yet still those bonds were undeterred. When asked his name, the risen knight Stood mute—his past beyond his sight. So bound as one we pay the cost, Through searing pull and moments lost. No soul is claimed while hearts unite; Together still we face this blight. The knight withdrew from sacred stone To rest his breath and strength alone. Joined hands closed round the crystal’s glare, Its burning truth too much to bear. The shrine pushed back with grinding force, Each surge a test, a brutal course. The risen knight beheld our strain, Each broken breath a thread of pain. His radiant wave then held us whole, But left him reeling, spent and low. Gentle concern nudged where he lay, Unsure why breath had slipped away. One final surge, a piercing glare— The shrine stood pure, the land laid bare. So bound as one we pay the cost, Through searing pull and moments lost. No soul is claimed while hearts unite; Together still we face this blight. Old runes were read; a blessing stirred, Their quiet grace in symbols heard. Through borrowed sight the wyvern cried And showed its nest where eggs were pried. Undead hands tore through frost and bone, And fled with life the nest had known. A stormbound mate, a ravaged tear— Then memory broke; the threat was clear. The crystal least with blight still stored Drew out the taint the wyvern bore. It bowed its head, its breathing slow— At last made clean from lingering woe. At dusk we rested, torn and spent, Yet vows were sworn with firm intent. The shrine now cleansed could cut the tie That pulled a living soul awry. Bright sigils scored the frozen ground, A binding ring in layered sound. That severed line still burned outside, It strained and yearned to re-entwine. So bound as one we pay the cost, Through searing pull and moments lost. No soul is claimed while hearts unite; Together still we face this blight. Bright runes were cut in binding ring, A tether torn from darkened king. That ghostly thread writhed, burned, and strained, Still reaching back for what it claimed. A distant whisper called to bear: “Come learn the truth—forsake their care.” From winter’s dark the shadows pressed, Drawn hard against the circle’s stress. A bard’s clear song cut through the roar, To hold the boy to what stood sure. Steel rang sharp; bright powers replied, As faith and fury surged inside. A battle cry defied the call; The boy stood fast—refused to fall. So bound as one we pay the cost, Through searing pull and moments lost. No soul is claimed while hearts unite; Together still we face this blight. They plunged through light, their bodies burned, And broke on wards they sought to turn. The ring lay cracked, the sigils scarred, Yet held the line, though split and marred. We steel our breath and guard the rite, To tear the boy from shadow’s sight.