Ambrosial Promise

Chapter 45: Legacy

Eamon's POV

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the training ground as Fenton and I faced off, the weight of our family legacy heavy in the air. Our father watched from the sidelines, his gaze sharp with expectation.

"Fenton," I called, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my chest. "Are you ready?"

He nodded, a flicker of determination in his eyes that I couldn't quite place. "As ready as I'll ever be, brother."

With a nod, I raised my training sword, the metal gleaming in the fading light. The clash of our weapons echoed through the air, a symphony of steel and determination.

As we spared, I could feel the tension building between us, the unspoken competition driving us to push ourselves harder than ever before. But with each exchange, it became increasingly clear that I held the upper hand.

With each blow, I tried my best to knock him down. Then, with a swift movement, I finally disarmed Fenton, my victory undeniable. I knocked him to the ground as I was catching my breath. But as I extended a hand to help him up, I caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. It is a flicker of darkness and a spark of resentment.

"You fought well, brother," I said, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.

Fenton's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he accepted my hand, his grip was firm and unyielding. "As did you, Eamon. But the fight is far from over."

“Let's both try our best, " I offered him a handshake.

He tilted his head before accepting my handshake. “Let's see.”

***

In the days that followed, strange things began happening. My training equipment mysteriously broke, and my study materials vanished without a trace. Each time, I brushed it off as mere coincidence, unaware of the betrayal lurking in the shadows.

It wasn't until I stumbled upon Fenton breaking my weapon again that the truth began to unravel. "Fenton, what are you doing?" I demanded, my voice tinged with anger and disbelief.

He turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Just a little adjustment, brother. Nothing you need to worry about."

But worry I did, the seeds of doubt taking root in my mind. I confronted Fenton, but he slipped away before I could confront him further, leaving me to stew in my suspicions.

***

Another day of sparring arrived, we both entered the arena. The wind gently blows as we stand ten meters apart, gazing at each other’s faces. Suddenly, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me, my vision began to swim. But I pushed through the discomfort, determined to prove myself worthy of our family's legacy.

As Fenton launched his relentless assault, I struggled to keep up, my senses dulled by an unseen force. But still, I fought on, refusing to let my brother's treachery hold me back.

In the end, I fell to the ground, my body wracked with pain, but still, I refused to give up. “Why am I so weak right now,” I asked myself in disbelief as I tried my best to stand up.

“Stop,” our father intervened, calling an end to the match and rushing me to my room to recuperate. I laid down on my bed, my head was still spinning and I felt weak.

Two hours had passed since our friendly match, and the doctor came for a checkup. He sighed before finally confirming our suspicions, “You had been poisoned,” he stated while writing down his notes in a piece of paper.

The doctor handed me the paper he wrote. “Here are the medicines and some notes you need to pay attention to. Notes with every detail about the medicine consumption are written in there,” the doctor explained.