Two days later, Eamon finally woke up.
The sunlight came in through the wooden window. Dust floated in the golden light like tiny stars. Eamon blinked a few times. His body felt like it had been crushed and stitched back together. He tried to move his hand but winced at the pain in his chest.
A puppet, shaped like a small squirrel with red buttons for eyes, was sitting by his bedside. It quickly jumped up and dashed out of the room with its wooden feet tapping against the floor.
Outside, Arvin was in the forest, kneeling near a patch of violet-leafed herbs. He placed them gently into his pouch. He looked tired. The past two days had drained him. His hands were trembling slightly, and his back ached, but he kept working.
Suddenly, a rustling noise came from the trees. The puppet dashed through the bushes and squeaked loudly.
"What is it?" Arvin stood up, dusting off his hands.
The puppet squeaked again, nodding its head toward the house.
Arvin's eyes widened. He dropped the pouch and broke into a sprint, running through the forest path. Leaves crunched under his feet. His heart pounded.
He burst into the house, his cloak swinging behind him. He ran to the room, pushed the door open, and saw Eamon trying to sit up.
Arvin walked to his side, his voice soft but filled with relief.
"Finally awake, are we? After two whole days."
Eamon looked up at him. His voice was weak.
"Two days? I don't remember a thing, Grandpa. I just remember getting buried by those puppets. And then… I used a spell. After that, everything went blank."
Arvin sat beside him. He gently checked Eamon's pulse and placed a hand on his forehead.
"You used a Tier 3 spell, Eamon. Your body couldn't handle it."
"I couldn't think of anything else, Grandpa. I just used the spell to kill the puppets. But now... I understand. I understand the severity of my curse. You were right. It won't be easy. Surviving through the night of the new moon won't be easy."
Arvin nodded. He looked at the floor for a moment. His eyes were tired.
"Yeah. But it's not just that. There is something else that happened."
Eamon frowned. His lips were dry.
"What? What is it?"
Arvin looked into his eyes.
"You know that there are thousands of spells in the world. But based on their impact and power, these spells are divided into seven tiers. I want you to listen carefully."
He stood up and walked to the shelf. He picked up a small board and chalk.
Then, he wrote them one by one:
Tier 1 – Spark Tier
(User Level: Novice / Apprentice)
Tier 2 – Flare Tier
(User Level: Adept / Field Mage)
Tier 3 – Blaze Tier
(User Level: Elite Mage / Battle Commander)
Tier 4 – Tempest Tier
(User Level: Royal Mage / Royal Knight)
Tier 5 – Cataclysm Tier
(User Level: Army General / War Heroes)
Tier 6 – Sovereign Tier
(User Level: King / Emperor / World Guardian)
Tier 7 – Divine Tier
(User Level: God / Mythical Entity)
He turned to Eamon after finishing.
Eamon gave a weak nod.
"Yeah, I know all that. Grandpa Aegon taught me that."
"Good," Arvin said. "So you are currently at a power level where you can safely use Tier 2 magic. That's your limit for now. I am at Tier 3. So was your grandpa, Aegon."
He sat back down, his eyes serious.
"Basically, when a magician tries to use a spell above their tier, the results are dangerous. It can damage the user's hands or their body. Sometimes, it creates a failed spell impact. In some cases, nothing happens at all. That's how the system is designed."
Eamon nodded again, listening carefully.
"But in your case…" Arvin paused. His fingers gripped the edge of the chair. "The spell didn't just injure your body. It damaged your heart, your mana core. And your soul."
Eamon blinked.
"My soul?"
"Yes." Arvin looked at him. His voice was low. "This is never the case, Eamon. This never happens. It's not even rare. It's just impossible."
Eamon sat up slowly, his head still heavy, but the pain was dull now. He looked at his hands. They felt weaker than before, like something inside him had been drained. He turned to Arvin, his voice low.
"Then how... Is it the curse in my body?"
Arvin sat down beside the bed. He looked tired too, like the weight of the past few days had pressed down on him.
"No. Even I thought the same at first. But it's not the curse. The curse... actually saved your life."
Eamon blinked. He couldn't believe what he just heard.
"The curse saved me?" he asked, confused.
"Yes," Arvin nodded. "Strange as it sounds, it did. If the curse wasn't there, you wouldn't have survived the backlash of the spell."
Eamon leaned back. His head touched the wooden wall behind him. He took a deep breath.
"Then what is it?" he asked again.
Arvin's eyes narrowed, and his voice grew firm.
"Your heart is sealed, Eamon."
Eamon stared at him, not sure if he heard it right.
"What?" he whispered.
Arvin stood up and walked to the table. He picked up a small cloth and unwrapped something inside it. It looked like a tiny scroll with ancient markings.
"Yes. For every being in this world who can use magic, there exists a mana core inside their body. That core is infused in their heart. In your case, your heart... along with your mana core... is sealed."
Eamon sat frozen, the words echoing in his head.
"Sealed?" he asked, slowly. "What do you mean sealed?"
Arvin stepped back to him and sat down again.
"When I was examining your body, I saw something I had never seen before. There was an Ouroborus revolving around your heart. It wasn't natural. It was a seal. It was limiting your mana core."
"An Ouroborus?" Eamon repeated, his brow furrowed. "You mean that serpent-like creature that eats its own tail?"
"Yes. That very symbol. It's ancient. It stands for cycles and infinity... but also for restriction. That serpent is tightly wrapped around your heart. It's not a creature. It's a magical binding."
Eamon shook his head. His hands trembled.
"But how? And why? Why me?"
Arvin looked away for a moment. He had no answers.
"I don't know, my child. But whoever did this... they wanted to make sure your mana core never bloomed. That's why using a tier 3 spell nearly killed you. Your mana couldn't flow freely. Your heart couldn't handle it."
Eamon looked down at his chest. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel something—like a chain inside him.
"But who would do something like that? What does this mean for my goal of lifting the curse?" he asked, almost in a whisper. His voice was full of fear.
Arvin put a hand on his shoulder. "With your mana core sealed, it's clear that you cannot grow as a mage. Your strength is being held back. But there is hope."
Eamon looked up.
"I used something," Arvin said. "An old charm. I had it for many years. Never knew what it was for. I won it in a bet when I was younger, back in the capital."
He opened the cloth again and showed Eamon the empty scroll.
"When I was examining your heart, I saw that the drawings on the Ouroborus matched the ones on this charm. The seal on your heart had five segments... or what I think were layers. After I used the charm, one of the segments disappeared. That means four remain."
Eamon tried to take it all in.
"So now I can use tier 3 spells?" he asked.
"Yes. That's what I believe," Arvin replied. "When the seal was placed, I think it had seven total layers. One for each tier of magic. I think two layers have been removed previously from your seal. Maybe by your grandpa or maybe by someone else. I removed the third today using the charm. Now four remain."
"So you think grandpa knew about this?", asked Eamon.
Arvin replied, "I don't know kid. I can't say anything for sure. But one thing is sure that this seal was not put on you by a well-wisher. And whoever removed the two layers knew what he was doing. Your grandpa's death has raised many questions. And you will need to find answers for all."
Eamon stared into the fire, thinking about what this meant. His heart raced.
"So basically, I need four more of those charms to remove the remaining layers. Only then will the seal be fully broken?"
"Yes," Arvin nodded. "That is my theory."
Eamon clenched his fists.
"Where do I find them?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"I wish I knew," Arvin said. "As I told you, I got this one by chance. I never even knew what it was until today."
"But someone made these charms, right? There must be more out there!" Eamon said.
"There must be," Arvin agreed. "But it won't be easy. These kinds of items are ancient. Rare. They're not sold in normal markets."
Eamon leaned forward.
"Then we go to the capital. Maybe someone there knows something. Maybe someone has seen one before."
Arvin smiled faintly.
"You just woke up from a coma, and you're ready to take on the world again."
Eamon looked at him, serious.
"I don't have time to waste. The curse is only getting worse. And now I learn I've been sealed since heavens know when? What if the person who did this is still out there?"
Arvin sighed. "I understand. But for now, you need to rest. Once you recover fully, we'll begin practicing tier 3 spells. We need to make sure you're stable first."
Eamon nodded slowly, though his mind was still racing. He lay back down on the bed. His body was tired, but his thoughts were too loud to sleep.
Arvin stood up and adjusted the blankets.
"You've been through a lot, son. I'll make you some soup. Rest now. We'll talk more after."
He walked out of the room quietly, leaving Eamon alone.
The silence in the room was deep. The flicker of the oil lamp danced on the wooden walls. Eamon stared at the ceiling.
He thought about the Ouroborus. The serpent biting its own tail. A never-ending loop. A seal meant to cage him.
He closed his eyes.
"Why me," he whispered to the dark. "And who would do such a thing to me?"
He felt a lump in his throat.
"What did I ever do to anyone?"
The curse had already made his life unbearable. And now this seal… a second chain around his neck.
He thought about his grandfather. About the promise he made. About the dream to be free. To laugh without fear. To walk under the moon without pain.
"First the curse… and now the seal," he whispered again.
He pulled the blanket closer.
"Will I really make it?"
His eyes burned.
"Will I be able to fulfill Grandpa's wish… to be free and live happily?"