Online: Eiodolon Realms – Child of Ruin-Chapter 48 - 47 — The Medallion Key

The forge had been quieter than usual for the last few days. No big orders, no merchant caravans stopping by, and the old man had spent most of the mornings tinkering with his private projects instead of the usual repair work.

During the past 3 days his belief that he had first suspected seemed to be true, the medallion could be the key. The thought had gnawed at him relentlessly, to the point where he’d barely been able to focus at the forge. Even the sound of hammers ringing against metal felt like it was tapping the same maddening question into his skull: What’s behind that door?

Today, opportunity finally presented itself.

Eron had noticed something today. Whenever the old man thought no one was looking, he would glance toward the road and then back at the forge door, almost as if waiting for someone. That someone arrived today.

Late afternoon sunlight slanted across the cobblestone road when the heavy creak of carriage wheels reached their ears. Eron straightened instinctively, hammer still in hand, and saw a merchant’s wagon rolling into view, drawn by two sturdy chestnut horses.

The old man’s face lit up, not with the warm welcome of an old friend, but with the relief of a man finally seeing something he’d been waiting on. He shrugged off his heavy blacksmith’s cloak, revealing the thin tunic beneath. And that’s when Eron saw it, gleaming faintly in the low light—the medallion.

It wasn’t just a trinket. Up close, Eron could see its edge was finely ridged, almost like gear teeth, and its center had an engraving that matched the faint circular marking near the edge of the forbidden wall at the house. The moment he saw that, his chest tightened.

’It is the same magical ingraving that the wall has got on it’s center. This must be the key to opening it."

It wasn’t really all that flashy. Bronze, maybe, with an unusual interlocking swirl etched deep into its face. But what caught Eron’s attention was its shape. It wasn’t quite circular—one side had a subtle taper, almost like it was meant to slide into something.

’Hmm! This seems like the thing i need.’ 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

The old man stepped outside to greet the merchant, his voice gruff but warmer than Eron had ever heard it. The two began talking about shipments, prices, and routes while Eron pretended to clean the workbench. He kept glancing out, memorizing how the medallion hung from the man’s neck, how it caught the light, and most importantly, how easy it would be to slip it off if given the chance.

The moment he was waiting for came quicker than expected. The merchant’s assistant called the old man over to check a cart axle, and the old man handed his cloak to the boy minding the forge, the medallion draped over it. A perfect, stupidly careless move.

Eron’s pulse thundered in his ears. Now was the time to take advantage of the situation.

He moved casually, too casually, past the cloak, his fingers brushing against the fabric as if straightening it. In a single smooth motion, he removed the medallion, slid it into the inner pocket of his apron, and kept walking toward the back where the scrap metal was stored.

No one noticed. Not the old man. Not the merchant. Not the assistant.

’Seems like no one noticed me pocketing the medallion."

For the rest of the afternoon, Eron worked like nothing had happened, but every clang of the hammer was just a way to drown out the pounding in his chest.

When dusk finally bled into night and the forge was locked, the old man headed toward the tavern with the merchant—something about catching up over ale. Eron made his own excuses and slipped away in the opposite direction... only to circle back once the street was empty.

"Kid, I will be going with him to catch up. You make sure to clean up the place, all right!’

"Okie, old man."

’Seems like today is my lucky day. He is going on his own no need to do anything.’

The old man’s house loomed in the dim torchlight—quiet, almost expectant. Eron slipped inside through the side door they sometimes used for unloading iron ingots.

The air smelled faintly of soot and oil, but beneath it was that other smell, one that had haunted him since the first day he stepped in here—old wood and something faintly metallic, like a forge that hadn’t been used in decades but never truly cooled.

He made his way to that wall. The one with the magical ingravings on its side. He’d examined it dozens of times in his head, memorizing every crack, every irregularity. Tonight, he traced his fingers along the edge until he found it, a thin, vertical slot no wider than the medallion’s tapered edge.

His breath caught. This was it.

"OK, Eron, this is it. This is the moment you have been waiting for so many days, finally you get to know what that old man’s hiding."

He pulled the medallion from his pocket, turning it over in the dim light. Up close, the swirling design seemed almost to shift, the grooves deeper than they should have been, as if carved by something other than human tools.

The forbidden door stood at the end, plain and unremarkable except for the magical ingravings in the stone wall. He drew the medallion from his pocket and pressed its edge into the groove. It fit perfectly.

A soft click.

The wall panel slid open just enough for him to twist the medallion, and with a muted grinding sound, the door itself unlocked. His pulse roared in his ears.

Eron pushed the door open.

The smell hit him first—cool, metallic, and faintly old, like air that hadn’t been disturbed for years. His eyes adjusted to the dim interior, and then.....

He gasped.

He felt something click—soft, deliberate, like the first movement of a lock giving way. The wall gave the faintest tremor, a whisper of grinding stone echoing from deep within.

And then—