I reach deep into my existence and drag forth a few sparks of my Vitality into the greater world. Sparks that are then carefully molded and shaped into a proper high-class healing spell. Perhaps a bit stronger of a spell than would be necessary for healing my patient, but if I can spend a bit of extra vitality without my patron interfering, then I will. 

I look over the spell a couple of times, best not to mess this up. A thorough check of the structure reveals no abnormalities, so I release my hold upon my Vitality and allow the spell to trigger. The air flashes briefly with a soft burnt orange glow and the body of the child, the target of my spell, heals. The flesh mends, the bones straighten, the infection fades, and before long enough the child is healthy, perhaps even healthier than before he got injured. 

Yet while the child is saved, I can feel my end come ever closer. Good. If I could feel anything approaching happiness it would be in these moments when my death becomes inevitably closer. I would be spending more of my own vitality if I could, but forces beyond me prevent such an occurrence from coming about.

The aches of my body worsen ever so slightly and I can’t help but wince. I may only be 31, but it feels as if my body is that of someone 30 years older. The aches are the least of my worry though, I am a fragile person, now more than ever due to my years of spellcasting. My skin is paper thin and easy to cut, my immune system is horrible, my muscles look as if they are wasted away, and I haven’t had a good night of rest in over a year. I look horrible, perhaps more horrible than I feel, but even then I find it hard for me to care about my physical appearance. I hide it all under my garb. I would prefer people not worry about my health, especially when my end goal is to die, to finally cease and forever rest.

I am very surprised that I am still around, what I do isn’t conducive to survival at all. I wanted to die when I got dragged off to this world and I still want to die now. Different reasons, same goal. The only reason I haven’t killed myself is because I can’t. The being, entity, whatever that brought me here won’t allow me to. Not by inaction or action. I cannot engage in any form of physical self harm, when I tried the entity took control over my limbs, making me nothing more than a puppet to whatever the being that brought me here. I cannot throw myself at a strong monster or person, the being intervenes and either has me cast a stronger spell using my own vitality or stops me from even following through with my idea. I cannot cast spells frivolously to burn away my vitality, the Entity prevents me from even trying to cast a spell outside of situations it deems proper.

All I can do is stew in my misery, heal people, try to be in dangerous situations, and pray for the day that I am released from this hell of my own making. To say that I hate myself is an understatement. 

I let out a sigh and look down at the child that has finished healing, the effects of the spell no longer visible. I try to cast another diagnostic spell on them only to find my spellcasting once again sealed. My fists clench before I close the distance for a physical examination. With my shaky hands I give the child a look over, only taking a step back once I am satisfied with the results of my efforts. The child is well and I got to burn some Vitality, a fair trade in my opinion.

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I grab my walking staff, something that became a necessity for me a couple of months ago, my body no longer being able to support itself quite as well due to all of the Vitality I have used over my time here. Great decision on my part, as I need the mobility to end myself faster. My pack is the next thing I grab. It is a dirty and damaged thing, but it is mine and it contains everything I own.  It is a struggle to get my pack onto my back with the frailness of my body, but I eventually managed to secure it onto myself.. 

Once I am all packed up and ready to go I finally head out of the door and into the waiting frenzy of the child’s family.

“How is Gerald? Will he survive?”

Ah, so that is the name of the child. I hadn’t been paying attention after my patron started to prod me towards the child in need of my services. Just like it prods me to heal just about everyone injured I come across above a certain threshold. Both a blessing and a curse, a blessing because of the vitality I get to spend, a curse because said prodding involves the entity puppeting my body.

“Gerald will be fine, I suggest you give him another day or two of rest even if the wounds are healed. Aside from that, send out a request to the Adventurers guild for the extermination of the monster and make sure to keep a close eye on him and the other children.”

The mother nods and I step out of the doorframe and let the family swarm past me into the room. I let out a sigh and readjust my pack, might as well get back onto the road I have some more wandering to do. Perhaps if I get lucky enough some random natural disaster will kill me before the entity can intervene. A freak lightning storm perhaps? Ah, no perhaps not, that failed last time. Maybe a landslide? A Meteorite would be acceptable as well if a bit harder to come across.

I bite down on that fantasy and squash it. Not likely to happen, not after that one time I got caught up in a massive storm, my patron had made me dodge a lightning strike that would have killed me. Haven’t gotten that lucky again sadly, maybe I should wander over towards the swamp again, I got to burn a decent amount of vitality there before being forced out of there via body puppeteering.

I delve deep into my mind and locate the link between my patron and myself and ask it for when my suffering will end, when it will allow me to die. No answer would be coming, but I send the question over anyway. I know it can hear me. The first time I had located the link and sent something over it I got a feeling of surprise back for half a second before it went silent. It never responded after that of course, but that doesn’t stop me from sending it what I can. My pleas for death, the apathy, the depression. Anything and everything that is the result of my suffering that my patron causes each day that I live. I send it all and pray that it either gets sick of my shit and strikes me down or it finally takes pity on me and allows a quick and painless death.

Just as I leave the house, I hear the mother call out to me. What is it now?

“Thank you Saint of Wandering, know that you will always be welcome in our house and the houses of our neighbors.”

I nod even as I grit my teeth. A small spark of annoyance flaring up and breaking my more normal apathy. I dislike that title, the name that the villages and towns that I pass through have granted me. I think that I can even say that I hate how they ascribe what I have done as selfless and kind. They make it sound like I am doing any of this out of my own free will, that I am doing this to make the world a better place, that I do this to help those who are unable to afford the medicine or fee required to hire a Healer or Cleric.

I don’t do any of this to help other people. I do this in the hopes that someday I will either keel over dead from expending too much Vitality or that my patron will finally allow me to die. To free me from being alive and the suffering that being alive causes. A deep breath to calm down.

I say no words to her, I simply turn around and continue my walk. Striding down the road heading towards the nearby forest. With the recent increase in monster population I have a much higher chance of getting attacked or ambushed. Something that would force me to defend myself and likely require me to spend some Vitality to survive. One of them might even get lucky and kill me before my patron can do anything. Nothing has before, nothing ever will, I toss aside that fantasy like the garbage it is and move on with my life.