Bound by Magic And Blood

The faint knock on the door pulled Mekeala from her swirling thoughts. She sat by the window, tracing her finger along the faint mark etched on her ring finger. The dream lingered—always the same. A boy and a baby surrounded by ancient atmagic, bound together by a ritual she couldn't understand. It had haunted her since she was seven, but after meeting Ezekeil, the dream's meaning gnawed at her relentlessly. The boy in the dream resembled him too much for it to be a mere coincidence.

"Who are you, Ezekeil?" she whispered, the question hanging heavy in the quiet room.

The knock came again, more insistent.

"Mekeala?" Maya's familiar voice called from the other side.

"Come in," Mekeala said, shaking herself free of her thoughts.

Maya entered, her expression warm but tinged with concern. "I heard about the attack yesterday. Are you okay?"

Mekeala managed a small smile. "I'm fine. Ezekeil and I handled it... somehow."

Maya sat beside her, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "That was brave—and reckless. You really have a knack for trouble, don't you?"

Mekeala sighed, her fingers brushing against the mark again. "It feels like trouble finds me, not the other way around."

Maya's gaze softened. "You're stronger than you realize. The council might underestimate you, but I've seen what you can do."

The mention of the council sparked a flicker of irritation in Mekeala. "They didn't even ask me to join the meeting today. They keep making decisions as if I'm a fragile child."

"You should demand to be included."

"I will... eventually," Mekeala murmured, though doubt lingered. She knew something was being kept from her—something big.

The tension in the council room was palpable. Lady Arween, Elrond, Esme, and several elders were locked in a heated debate. Ezekeil stood at the edge, arms crossed, observing silently.

"We can't ignore the signs," Esme insisted. "Cedric's shadow experiments are a threat to all of Caelithar."

Elrond's voice was firm. "Sending a troop to retrieve the relic from the South Desert is dangerous. We could be leading them straight into a trap."

"Do we have a choice?" Lady Arween countered. "If Cedric and Lira succeed in harnessing shadow magic, no race will be safe."

Ezekeil's curiosity piqued at the mention of the South Desert. His golden eyes glinted sharply. "What relic are you speaking of?"

Elrond glanced at him warily. "An ancient Wizard artifact said to amplify magical defenses. We need it to protect the village and the World Tree."

Ezekeil's voice cut through the tension. "I'll lead the troop."

The room fell into silence.

Esme's brows furrowed. "You've faced Cedric before. Are you certain he's behind this?"

"Yes," Ezekeil replied curtly. "Cedric and Lira, King Caesar's trusted witch, were conducting dark experiments. It seems Caesar and Cedric planned to invade all the races' territories."

A grim hush settled over the room.

Ezekeil's voice hardened. "They started with the Elves for a reason. They need Mekeala and her connection to the World Tree."

Lady Arween's expression darkened. "If that's true, then keeping Mekeala here may not be safe."

"We must act swiftly," Esme said resolutely. "We can't let Cedric's ambitions come to fruition."

Elrond's gaze remained fixed on Ezekeil. "If you're leading this mission, you'd better succeed. We can't afford failure."

Ezekeil's lips curled into a faint, dangerous smile. "I don't fail."

As Maya left, Mekeala remained by the window, watching the distant horizon. Her heart was heavy with questions and unease. The dream, the mark, the secrets swirling around her—it was all connected.

And somehow, Ezekeil was at the center of it.

If the council wouldn't tell her the truth, she would find it herself.

No matter the cost.