Dinner at the Darkmoor house was quiet that evening. The stew Seraphine had made was warm and fragrant, filled with root vegetables and herbs freshly picked from the garden. Eliakim sat across from his mother, absently stirring his bowl with a wooden spoon. Skyling, perched on the nearby windowsill in her evolved form, flicked her feathers occasionally, watching them both with her luminous eyes.
Seraphine cast him a sideways glance. "You're unusually quiet tonight, Eliakim. Everything alright?"
He didn't answer at first.
Then he set down his spoon.
"Mom... can I ask something serious?"
Her hands paused over her bowl. She met his eyes. "Of course."
Eliakim inhaled, steadying himself. "It's about Dad."
The room grew still. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
"You never talk about him. Not really. And I never asked before because I thought... maybe it hurt too much. But I need to know. Where did he go? Why did he leave right after I was born?"
Seraphine lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around her spoon. A flicker of pain passed across her face. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you," she said slowly. "I just... couldn't."
"Couldn't? Why not?"
"Because I don't know everything. What I do know is wrapped in mystery and pain. Your father vanished the night you were born. No signs. No clues. Just gone."
"Did he leave us?" Eliakim asked. His voice was quiet, but it cut deep.
Seraphine looked up sharply. "No. Never think that. He loved you. And me. He would never have walked away willingly. Something... took him from us. Something beyond my understanding."
Eliakim studied her face. She wasn't lying. Her sorrow was real. But it wasn't enough.
"I saw him," Eliakim said. "Not here. In the place where I went. The cave. He was there. Just for a moment. He spoke to me."
Seraphine froze.
"He told me he's still alive. That he can't speak the truth because of a curse. That it wasn't my fault. And that he loves us. Both of us."
A long silence followed.
"I don't know how or why," Eliakim continued, his voice trembling now, "but I believe him. I feel it in my blood. I have to find him. I have to know the truth. Please... let me go."
Seraphine stood slowly and walked to the hearth. Her back was to him as she spoke. "Do you know what you're asking, Eliakim? The world beyond Yldrahollow is vast and cruel. I lost the love of my life to it. I won't lose my son too."
"But I'm not just your son," Eliakim said, rising. "I'm his son too. I have his blood in my veins. And now... something in me has awakened. I can't ignore it. I need to follow this. I need to know who I really am."
Her shoulders sagged. She turned to face him, eyes glistening.
"You sound just like him," she whispered.
She stepped into the next room, opened a small wooden chest nestled beneath an old tapestry, and returned with a cloth-wrapped object. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the layers of aged linen, revealing a slender pendant forged from a strange silvery metal that seemed to absorb the firelight. The black cord attached to it was frayed at the ends, but the pendant itself gleamed with ancient craftsmanship. At its center, a teardrop-shaped blue stone pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, casting delicate glimmers of light across the walls. The stone seemed to shift hues depending on the angle—sometimes azure, sometimes deep violet—its depths swirling with unknowable secrets.
"This was your father's," she said. "An heirloom passed down from his side of the family. He said it would only work for someone who shared his blood."
She placed it in Eliakim's hand.
"I never thought I'd part with it," she said. "But if you're going... then you must take it. Perhaps it will help you on your journey."
Eliakim stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at her.
"Thank you, Mom."
She nodded, swallowing hard.
"Promise me you'll return. No matter what you find."
"I promise."
Later that night, as the moon rose high above Yldrahollow, Seraphine stood by the window of their home, watching the stars. Her lips moved silently in prayer, her voice a whisper lost to the wind. "Oh Divine Ithariel, Keeper of Light and Mercy, guard my son in the shadowed paths ahead. Guide him with your grace, and protect his heart from despair." Her eyes shimmered with tears she refused to shed.
Eliakim lay in bed, the heirloom pendant clutched in his hand, the firelight flickering across his determined face.
As he drifted into sleep, a subtle vibration hummed beneath his bed. A hidden compartment slid open, revealing a small metallic box etched with intricate symbols. It pulsed softly, responding to the energy of the treasures stored within Eliakim's bracelet.
The box floated upward on its own, drawn to the bracelet. A pulse of light burst forth as it made contact. The bracelet began to shift—metal flowed like quicksilver around his wrist and up along each finger, chaining itself gently but firmly in elegant arcs. At the end of each chain, glowing runes appeared, each symbol representing one of the treasures Eliakim had earned.
The once-simple bracelet now resembled a gauntlet of fates, whispering power and unity. It no longer looked like a piece of jewelry—but a mark of destiny.
Skyling, curled beside him, opened one eye and tilted her head curiously at the transformation.
Eliakim slept soundly, unaware of the growing legacy forming around him.
The road ahead was uncertain.
But the resolve in his heart had never been stronger.
Tomorrow, his journey would begin.