Arvin held Eamon, his arms wrapped tightly around the boy's broken frame.
"You did it, my child," Arvin whispered, his voice trembling. "You survived. You stood firm, even in front of the gods' trial."
His heart ached seeing Eamon like this. Blood crusted on his torn tunic. Cuts deep and angry lined his arms and chest. His breath came in short, ragged bursts. Arvin bent down, placed one arm under Eamon's knees and the other behind his back, then lifted him with a surprising strength for someone his age.
He gently placed him on the soft bed inside the house. The sheets instantly stained with blood.
Arvin rolled up his sleeves and got to work. His fingers moved fast but careful. His puppet assistants stirred potions in small wooden bowls. The house smelled of herbs and burning mint leaves. Arvin grabbed a curved needle, dipped it in a healing tincture, and began stitching the long wound running across Eamon's shoulder.
Each stitch made Eamon flinch slightly, even in his unconscious state.
"You're still fighting in there," Arvin muttered. "Good. Stay with me."
Once the stitching was done, he cleaned the wounds again and wrapped fresh white bandages around his chest, arms, and legs. The blood soaked into the cloth quickly, but it was slowing down.
Arvin walked to his personal shelf. He unlocked a small wooden box with golden carvings. Inside was a single vial. The glass shimmered faintly with a blue hue. He uncorked it and placed one drop of the potion on Eamon's lips.
The liquid slid down his throat.
"Pulam Lilies," Arvin whispered. "You better work your magic."
The rare flower only bloomed once in a hundred years, found deep within the Mirror Lakes. It was known to regenerate blood cells at ten times the normal speed and mend internal wounds overnight.
The night passed slowly. Arvin sat by Eamon's side, never blinking, never resting.
As the first light of morning streamed through the curtains, Eamon stirred. His eyes fluttered open.
He looked around, confused at first, then tried to sit up. Pain shot through his body.
"Lie down," Arvin said quickly, pushing him gently back.
"Grandpa... Arvin," Eamon groaned. "I'm... still alive."
Arvin chuckled and nodded. "Thanks to you, mostly. And a little help from Pulam Lilies."
"Pulam what?"
Arvin smiled and ruffled Eamon's hair. "A flower that blooms once in a century. You drank its essence last night. That potion healed wounds that would've taken weeks."
Eamon looked down at his chest. The deep wound was now just a pink scar, bandaged still but not bleeding.
"You did well, Eamon. I'm proud of you," Arvin said.
Eamon smiled faintly. "It was all thanks to you, Grandpa Arvin. I would've died without your help."
Arvin shook his head. "No, Eamon. You lived because you wanted to. You kept going when everything was against you. That was all you. But this is just the beginning. Your journey begins from here."
Eamon blinked. "The beginning?"
"Yes. Tomorrow morning, you will set out to find the Obsidian Seraphs. You are ready now."
Eamon took a long, deep breath. His chest hurt slightly, but he felt a strange strength returning.
"Yes, Grandpa. I am ready."
"Good. Now let's get some food into that stomach."
Later that evening, Eamon sat cross-legged on the floor of his room. A sack lay open beside him. He carefully folded a spare tunic, then placed it inside. A small flint stone, dried jerky, a compass, and his mother's pendant followed. The room was quiet except for the rustling of cloth.
A knock echoed.
"Come in, Grandpa," Eamon said.
Arvin pushed the door open and peeked inside.
"I have something for you."
"What is it?"
Arvin grinned and stepped in holding a huge round object wrapped in a woolen blanket.
"Tadaa!"
He pulled the cloth away.
"Is that... an egg?" Eamon asked, eyes widening.
"Not just an egg. Here, hold this."
He placed the egg in Eamon's hands. It was warm and smooth, the size of a pumpkin. Slight golden lines shimmered faintly across its surface.
Arvin drew a glowing symbol in the air. Runes of bonding.
"Now, place your hand on it. Repeat after me."
Eamon did as told.
"Veyna Arctora Meldros."
He spoke the words. The egg glowed. A soft hum filled the room. Cracks began to form on its shell. With a sudden pop, it burst open. A creature emerged, soaked but majestic.
A direwolf. White fur with streaks of silver. Its eyes glowed a deep shade of emerald.
"This... this is your very own bond," Arvin said proudly.
Eamon was stunned. "A bond? For me? But... where did you get it?"
Arvin sat beside him.
"Three months ago, an injured man came to me. I didn't know who he was. But I healed him. He left this egg behind as thanks. I showed it to your grandpa. He said it was a bond. I never used it because I'm too old. I didn't want the bond to be alone when I died. But now... with everything that's happened, I believe this was meant for you."
Eamon hesitated. "But Grandpa, this was yours. I can't take it."
Arvin raised an eyebrow.
"Would you return the sword your grandpa gave you? No? Then don't return this either. And besides, you've already bonded. The connection is sacred. Breaking it would hurt the both of you."
Eamon looked into the wolf's eyes. It blinked once and licked his cheek.
"Alright," he said. "If you say so. But a wolf? That's going to be hard to handle."
The direwolf jumped into his lap and curled up.
"Seems like he disagrees," Arvin chuckled. "Why not name him?"
Eamon thought for a second.
"How about... Skarn?"
The wolf perked up at the name.
"That's a good name," Arvin nodded.
They both smiled.
That night, both went to sleep. Eamon lay beside Skarn, who snored softly like a baby.
Next morning, the sun rose behind the mountains. Birds chirped outside. Eamon stood by the doorway, his sack over his shoulder, his sword sheathed at his back.
Arvin stood beside him, holding a bundle of items.
"Your destination is Iskareth Town. I've heard rumors about vampire sightings there."
"Rumors, huh? At least it's a start."
Arvin then handed over the items.
"First, Aegon's Script, containing the list of all known Obsidian Seraphs. It's incomplete but useful."
Eamon took it and placed it in his sack.
"Second, a replica of the god's charm. If you ever need to show proof of divine encounter."
Eamon nodded.
"Third, a healing potion made from Pulam Lilies. Use it only when things look their worst."
Arvin handed over a small crystal vial.
"Fourth, this ring. It opens a separate dimension. You can store your bond and your Vixterium weapons inside. The royal army won't detect them."
Eamon exclaimed, "that's... incredible."
Arvin continued, "lastly, this locket. It suppresses your demonic aura. No one will sense your curse."
Eamon looked at all the gifts. His hands trembled slightly. He hugged Arvin tightly. He said, "thank you, Grandpa. For everything."
Arvin patted his back. "Now now, kid. Leave before I start crying."
Eamon chuckled. He waved him goodbye. He took a step back. He turned and began walking. The long journey awaited.
He set off towards Iskareth, Skarn by his side.