At the house, Arvin gently placed Eamon on the wooden bed. His hands were trembling, and his breathing was uneven. He quickly pulled a soft blanket over him, then knelt beside the bed, his brows furrowed with worry.
"You better not die on me, Eamon," Arvin muttered under his breath. "After all that, you're not allowed to die now."
He wiped the sweat off Eamon's forehead and placed two fingers gently on his neck. The pulse was barely there. Arvin also had a healing magic attribute along with Earth magic. Healing magic was one of the few attributes that anyone could have along with their own magic attribute.
"No, no, no. Don't do this," Arvin whispered, panic creeping into his voice. He pressed his palms together and began chanting softly. "Vitalis Reparo… Vitalis Reparo…"
Golden light flowed from his hands and into Eamon's chest. The energy pulsed faintly, but Eamon's body didn't react. His heartbeat remained slow, too slow.
"I'll need more time," Arvin muttered. "I need to keep him stable until the medicine is ready."
He turned sharply and waved his hand toward a nearby wooden shelf. "Rise and prepare," he commanded.
Three small puppets sprang to life from under the table. They ran to the herb cabinet and began pulling out various jars. Arvin stood up and pointed to a flat stone near the firepit.
"Mix the Redroot and Ash Fern. Three spoons of each. Add a drop of Sylan extract," he instructed.
The puppets obeyed with swift and practiced motions. One puppet ground the herbs with a stone pestle. Another stirred the mixture into a thick paste. The third heated a small pot of water and added the blend.
Arvin returned to Eamon's side. His hands hovered over his chest as he continued chanting the healing spell. He could feel his energy draining fast.
Eamon's lips were pale. His skin had lost all its color. His breathing was faint.
"I need to see what's going on inside you," Arvin said through gritted teeth.
He took a deep breath and lifted his right hand. "Let me see what's hidden."
He closed his eyes and whispered, "Viscus Mirare."
A soft blue glow formed around his hand. A complex circle of runes appeared, spinning slowly like a clock. He pressed it gently against Eamon's chest.
Suddenly, Arvin's eyes flew open. His body stiffened. What he saw through the circle made his blood run cold.
"This… this can't be right," he whispered.
He leaned closer, adjusting the angle of the circle, his eyes scanning Eamon's internal structure. And then he saw it again.
"No… this isn't… how?"
His legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees beside the bed. The magical circle vanished from his hand.
"No… no… this shouldn't be possible."
He stayed on the floor, shaking his head. His hands clutched his hair. His heart raced.
"There's something dark inside him… but it's ancient… far older than anything I've ever seen. And it's not because of the curse either. It's something else entirely. It's like a…a….seal".
He crawled to the corner of the room. His eyes locked onto a high wooden shelf. With shaky hands, he reached up and pulled down a silver box.
It was small, no bigger than a book, and covered in golden symbols.
"I never thought I'd need this," he whispered.
He opened the box slowly. Inside was a single white card, bordered with gold. The words written on it shimmered faintly.
GOD'S SEAL.
Arvin stared at the card. His fingers hovered above it.
"I'll have to use this," he said. "Because if I don't… he'll die."
He picked up the card, turned around, and rushed back to the bed. He knelt beside Eamon and placed the card gently on his chest.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"By the ancient right, and the keeper's oath… I call upon the seal of the divine."
His voice shook as he spoke the sacred incantation. The symbols on the card glowed brighter. Light enveloped Eamon's chest.
"Divinum Arx… Custodi Vita… Aperire Sigillum."
The room began to tremble. A gust of wind blew from nowhere, scattering papers and knocking over jars. Arvin's body began to shake. His nose started bleeding. The spell was too powerful.
"Just a little more," he groaned.
His hands trembled violently. The light grew stronger. A ring of golden fire surrounded the bed.
Suddenly, the card flashed. The seal activated. All the golden light rushed into Eamon's body like a wave.
The tremors stopped.
The room fell silent.
Arvin dropped to the floor, breathing heavily. He wiped the blood from under his nose with the back of his hand.
"Please… let it have worked," he whispered.
He crawled back to Eamon and placed two fingers on his neck.
The pulse was there. Steady. Strong. He leaned closer and placed his ear to Eamon's chest. The heartbeat was back. Rhythmic. Alive. A tear slipped from Arvin's eye.
"You're back," he whispered. "You idiot. You're back."
He slumped against the bed frame and let out a long sigh. He closed his eyes and let the tension fade from his shoulders.
"You have no idea how close you were," he said, barely audible.
The puppets walked over with the prepared medicine. One of them offered the cup to Arvin.
"Give it to him slowly," he instructed. "Make sure he drinks every drop."
He watched as the puppet gently raised Eamon's head and helped him sip the thick, warm mixture.
"That should help with the internal damage," Arvin said, his voice soft and tired. "He'll need time. A lot of time."
He rubbed his forehead and winced. His body felt weak. The seal had drained him more than he expected.
He looked at the card lying beside Eamon. It was now black, the letters faded. Useless now.
"One time only huh….," Arvin muttered. "No second chances."
He struggled to his feet and stumbled toward his own bed in the next room. His legs barely held him.
As he lay down, he stared at the ceiling.
"I need to know what's inside you, Eamon," he whispered. "Because whatever it is… it'll kill you someday."
He felt a sharp pain in his chest. His body was reacting to the divine spell. He closed his eyes, too tired to fight it.
"I....I feel dizzy. I'll rest grandpa. Just for a moment."
And with that, he drifted into sleep. The puppet kept looking after Eamon.