Korran wiped his tears and looked up at Eamon with newfound hope. His voice trembled, but his eyes glimmered with determination.
"You said you'll help me, right? Let's go to the town and save my father and brother," he said.
Eamon smiled softly and nodded. "Yes, Korran. We will help you."
Before Korran could say anything more, Damien pulled Eamon a few steps away. His expression was grim, his tone low and serious.
"Eamon… are you sure we can do this?" Damien asked, glancing briefly at Korran, who sat quietly by the campfire. "We're talking about messing with a government official. Gorochi isn't just some bandit or tyrant. He's a man with power, soldiers, and influence. If we go against him, we'll have the entire fortress on our backs."
Eamon crossed his arms, looking toward the dark horizon where the faint outline of mountains met the starlit sky. "I know. I know it's a big risk. But we have to help him, Damien. That boy's entire world has fallen apart. If we don't do something, who will?"
Damien exhaled sharply. "You think helping every person in trouble is the way forward? Think carefully, Eamon. If our identities are revealed, we'll be hunted. You know what will happen if the capital finds out who you really are. We can't fight the royal army, not yet. You've only defeated the first Obsidian Seraph. Your journey has barely begun. You still have a long way to go."
Eamon turned to face him, his expression calm yet resolute. "I understand what you're saying. But my journey isn't just about fighting the Seraphs. It's not just about freeing myself from the curse." He paused, taking a deep breath. "It's about freeing others too. My grandfather always told me that true freedom isn't just living for yourself—it's helping others live too. If I walk past someone suffering, knowing I could've helped, then what's the point of my so-called freedom?"
Damien stared at him for a moment, speechless. Eamon's words struck deep—he remembered his own time in captivity, his pain, and how Eamon had risked his life to save him. Slowly, Damien's hardened expression softened.
Damien sighed, shaking his head. "You're going to drag us into trouble again, aren't you?"
"Most likely," Eamon said with a grin.
Damien finally laughed, a low, genuine sound that broke the tension. "Fine. I'm in. Let's help the kid."
Eamon smiled in relief and clapped Damien's shoulder. "I knew you'd say that."
They walked back to the fire where Korran sat beside Skarn. The young boy's eyes lifted hopefully as Eamon approached.
"Let's go to your town, Korran," Eamon said. "And let's free your father and brother."
Korran's lips trembled before he broke into a smile. "Yes! I'll take you there. But… I don't know the way from here."
Damien reached into his cloak and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "Don't worry, buddy. I've got a small map here. It should take us close enough to find your town."
Eamon stretched and slung his sword across his back. "Well then, let's get moving, boys."
The group—Eamon, Damien, Skarn, and Korran—set out into the night. The moon cast a pale glow on the rough path ahead, and the cool wind rustled the dry leaves around them.
Hours passed as they trekked through dense woods and rocky plains. The silence was broken only by the sound of footsteps and the occasional whisper of wind.
As dawn began to tint the sky orange, Damien squinted at Eamon and suddenly frowned. "Hey… Eamon," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You've got some white hairs."
Eamon stopped mid-step. "Huh? What?"
Damien pointed toward Eamon's head, smirking slightly. "Right there. On the side."
Eamon rummaged through his bag and pulled out a small shard of mirror he carried for battle checks. Tilting it to catch the morning light, he stared in disbelief.
"You're right," Eamon murmured, brushing a few strands between his fingers. "When did I get these? They weren't there when we were in Iskareth."
"Maybe it's because you drank the blood of a Seraph," Damien said, half-joking but half-concerned.
Eamon's expression grew serious. "Maybe… but that's not all."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Eamon hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "I've been having strange dreams ever since that night. Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of something—an enormous obsidian bird flying over a burning field, and then… a man in armor, chained to black pillars. His voice echoes in my head. I feel stronger when I wake up… and weaker too. Like something in me is shifting."
Damien frowned, thinking. "That's… unsettling. But maybe it's just your body adapting to the Seraph's blood. You absorbed something not meant for humans. It's bound to have side effects."
Eamon nodded slowly. "You're probably right. But I can feel it, Damien. Something's changing. And I don't know if that's good or bad."
Damien studied Eamon's face for a while. His friend looked calm on the outside, but there was a faint unease in his tone—a feeling that even he couldn't shake.
"Well, whatever it is, you seem fine for now," Damien said finally. "Your pulse is normal, your aura's stable. So, until you start growing wings or breathing fire, I think we're safe."
Eamon chuckled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Don't thank me yet," Damien replied with a smirk. "If you turn into some Obsidian Seraph, I'll be the first to run."
Korran, walking a few steps ahead, looked back with confusion. "What's an Obsidian Seraph?"
Eamon smiled. "Nothing you need to worry about, kid."
They continued walking, the conversation fading as the town's outline slowly began to appear in the distance.
As they neared the outskirts of the Misticula region, the air grew tense. Smoke rose faintly from the direction of the fortress, and the once-bustling roads were eerily empty. The sun had climbed higher, casting long shadows across the cracked paths.
When they finally reached the border, they stopped in shock.
A line of soldiers stood guard at the main entrance of the town, their spears raised, eyes sharp. The iron gates were shut, and a large banner bearing Gorochi's crest fluttered above it.
Korran's hands tightened into fists. "This is my town, Misticula."
Eamon scanned the area. "We can't go in from the front. Too many guards."
Korran nodded quickly. "There's another way. The same way I escaped with Antor before. It's on the other side of town."
"Good thinking," Damien said. "Lead the way."
Korran guided them through a narrow path, hidden between the tall reeds and rocky cliffs. The route was rough, but it offered cover from the watchtowers. Skarn, ever silent, kept scanning the surroundings for any movement.
The air grew thicker as they neared the back entrance—a crumbling section of the outer wall. The faint sound of soldiers' chatter echoed from far off, but no one patrolled this side.
Finally, Korran stopped and pointed ahead. "This is where Antor brought me. From here, we entered the forest and escaped."
Eamon crouched, studying the ground. "It's quiet… too quiet."
Damien's hand went to his blade. "Yeah. I don't like it either."
Korran swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the distant view of Misticula. The town he once called home now looked haunted—its gates sealed, its people trapped under fear and lies.
Eamon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Stay close to us, Korran. No matter what happens, we'll get your family back."
Korran nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, but there was strength in his voice when he spoke.
"Let's go," he said.
And with that, the four of them—Eamon, Damien, Skarn, and Korran—stepped forward into the shadows of the broken wall.
From there, the men entered the town of Misticula.