Around noon, the forest was alive with the hum of cicadas and the rustle of leaves stirred by the wind. Sunlight spilled through the canopy in scattered beams, cutting across the clearing where Eamon, Arthur, and Skarn rested.
Helena made her way carefully through the forest path, balancing a basket of food she had managed to pack from town. She had worried all morning about them, especially Arthur, and finally decided she couldn't wait any longer.
When she reached the place where they were camping, the first thing she saw made her heart lift. Arthur was awake. He stood at the edge of a cliff, his cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze, his gaze fixed far into the horizon. His back was straight, though his movements betrayed that he was still weak.
Eamon, by contrast, was leaning against a tall tree. His sword was resting across his knees, one hand still gripping the hilt even in sleep. His head was bowed, and his breathing steady. It was obvious he had fought against exhaustion until he could no longer, only sleeping when his body gave out.
Helena smiled faintly at the sight of them both. Then, lifting her voice, she called, "Wake up, boys. I brought lunch!"
Eamon's eyes snapped open instantly. His body jerked upright, sword flashing as he leapt to his feet. His voice was rough with alarm. "Who… who is it?"
Helena raised her hands quickly. "Relax, Mr. Protector. It's just me, Helena."
Eamon blinked at her, then lowered his blade with a deep breath. Relief washed over his face. "Oh, it's you. Wait—Arthur. Skarn. Are they alright?"
Helena chuckled softly at his worry. "Relax, relax. Arthur is standing right beside you, and Skarn—well, see for yourself."
Eamon turned his head toward the tent, and in that instant, a gray blur burst out. Skarn bounded across the clearing with surprising energy. The wolf-dog leapt onto Eamon, nearly knocking him backward.
"Skarn!" Eamon exclaimed, catching him in his arms. His voice cracked with emotion. He hugged the beast tightly, burying his face in the thick fur. "It's okay, buddy. I'm here now. You scared me half to death last night."
Skarn gave two sharp barks, tail wagging furiously, then licked Eamon's face.
Eamon laughed, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking. "Yes, yes, I know. You're fine. Don't scare me like that again."
Arthur approached slowly, his steps measured. His face was pale, but his eyes were steady. His voice, however, was quiet. "I am good now."
Eamon turned to him, smiling with genuine relief. "That's great. But, Arthur… what was that last night? I told you not to engage the killer alone. Why did you risk your life like that?"
Arthur's jaw tightened. "I did what I needed to. You would have done the same if you had been in my place."
Helena frowned, setting down the basket and folding her arms. "But it was reckless, Arthur. Look at how badly you were hurt. If Eamon hadn't arrived when he did, you could have died."
Eamon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's fine, Helena. I understand. He was cornered, and he made a choice. Honestly… I probably would have done the same."
The words hung in the air, softening the argument, but the silence that followed felt heavy. They sat down together on the grass, Helena unpacking the food she had brought. Bread, dried meat, and fruit filled the air with a simple but comforting smell.
They ate quietly. Normally, Arthur and Eamon would be trading remarks, sometimes sharp, sometimes playful, as they always did. Today, though, Arthur said almost nothing. He kept his eyes on his food, chewing slowly, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Eamon noticed. Helena noticed. The quiet was strange, unsettling.
At length, Arthur set his half-eaten bread aside and rose to his feet. His eyes returned to the cliff, to the endless forest stretching below. His voice was low, firm. "I must leave. I need to prepare for tonight. The killer will strike again, here, in this same place. But this time… he will come for me. You two should leave."
Helena looked up sharply, alarmed. "How do you know he will come back?"
Arthur did not look at her. His lips pressed into a thin line before he answered. "He told me so."
The silence after that was deafening.
Eamon stood, his expression hard. "If he's really coming, then what is this nonsense about you preparing alone and us leaving? We are a team, Arthur. Remember?"
Arthur finally turned his head, his eyes flashing. "A team? A team, you say?" He laughed bitterly. "If we are truly a team, then why didn't you let me drink your blood last night?"
Eamon froze. "What…what are you saying Arthur?"
Arthur stepped closer, his voice rising with emotion. "I needed your blood, Eamon. Just a little. It wouldn't have hurt you. But instead, you left me to die on the ground. If Helena hadn't come—"
"I went to get Helena," Eamon cut in quickly. His voice was sharp but desperate. "That's why I left. I knew she could help you."
Arthur's eyes narrowed, filled with hurt. "Why Helena? Why not you? You could have saved me in an instant. But you didn't. Because in your eyes, I'm still a monster. You think my fangs make me unworthy. You think letting me drink your blood would stain you, make you… impure."
Eamon shook his head violently. "No, Arthur. You're wrong. That's not it at all. You don't understand."
Helena's voice cut in, trembling. "Then explain, Eamon. Why didn't you help him? What if something had happened to Arthur in the time it took you to fetch me? Why did you risk his life like that? Why?"
Her eyes were wet, glimmering with unshed tears. She looked between the two of them, her heart breaking.
Eamon opened his mouth, but no words came. The truth—about his cursed blood—pressed against his lips, but he could not bring himself to speak it. If they knew… would they turn on him?
His silence stretched.
Arthur's face hardened. His voice was cold now, stripped of the pain but full of steel. "Your silence speaks everything, Eamon. I shouldn't have trusted you. I thought, foolishly, that I had found a friend."
His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword as he stepped back from them both. "But I was wrong."
With those words, Arthur turned. His cloak flared behind him as he strode away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the forest.
Eamon took a step forward, reaching out with his hand. "Arthur—wait—"
But the vampire did not look back.
And just like that, he was gone.