Bound by Magic And Blood

Night cloaked the village in a thick veil of silence, but Esme's mind remained restless. Leaning against the window of her chamber, she gazed out at the moonlit treetops. Ezekeil's warning echoed in her thoughts: "Cedric is looking for Mekeala."

Her heart clenched with unease. Cedric's obsession had already claimed countless lives. She couldn't let him take Mekeala too—not after all they had sacrificed to protect her. The ambush earlier had been a brutal reminder that Cedric's shadow loomed closer than they had ever feared.

A sudden, bone-chilling shriek pierced the night, shattering the fragile peace. Esme's breath caught in her throat as she bolted to her feet.

Rushing outside, she found the village already stirring. Elven soldiers sprinted toward the barrier, weapons gleaming under the pale moonlight.

A monstrous figure emerged from the shadows beyond the protective boundary. Its towering form radiated menace, with glowing sigils etched into obsidian skin that pulsed with malevolent energy.

"A Rune Beast!" an Elven knight shouted, his voice trembling with dread.

The ground quaked beneath its heavy steps, the beast's claws carving deep grooves into the earth.

Elrond's voice cut through the chaos. "Hold the line! Protect the village!"

The Elves moved swiftly, forming ranks, their bows drawn and swords raised. Sparks of magic crackled in the air as mages prepared defensive spells.

Ezekeil strode forward, his expression fierce and unyielding. Mekeala appeared at his side, her eyes wide with determination.

"I can help!" she insisted, gripping the hilt of her dagger.

"No," Ezekeil said firmly, his golden eyes locking onto hers. "This isn't a battle you're ready for. Stay with the defensive line."

"But—"

"That's an order, Mekeala." His voice was steely, leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly, Mekeala retreated, frustration simmering beneath her skin. She hated being sidelined, just as she had been during the ambush. How am I supposed to grow stronger if no one lets me fight?

The rune beast let out a deafening roar, its glowing sigils flaring brighter. With a swipe of its massive claws, it sent shockwaves rippling through the ground, toppling trees and knocking back soldiers.

Ezekeil raised his sword, his stance unwavering. "Form ranks! Don't scatter!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The Elves regrouped, their movements synchronized under Ezekeil's leadership.

"Aim for the glowing sigils!" he instructed, his blade slicing through the air as he struck at the beast's weak points.

The creature thrashed wildly, but Ezekeil's calculated attacks began to take their toll. His knowledge of runic creatures allowed him to outmaneuver it, exploiting its vulnerabilities.

Mekeala watched from the defensive line, her heart pounding. Despite her frustration, she couldn't tear her eyes away from Ezekeil. He moved with a lethal grace, his presence commanding and fearless.

He's more than just a stranger... she realized with a pang. He's someone who can change the tide of fate.

With a final, decisive blow, Ezekeil severed the rune beast's connection to its magic core. The creature let out a guttural cry before collapsing to the ground, its sigils fading into darkness.

Silence fell over the battlefield. The Elves stared in awe at Ezekeil, their fear giving way to admiration.

Elrond approached him, his gaze thoughtful. "You fight like one who has seen many battles."

"I do what needs to be done," Ezekeil replied curtly, his eyes flickering with lingering resolve.

Whispers of his prowess spread among the Elves. Once wary of the outsider, they now looked to him as a beacon of strength.

As the soldiers began to regroup, Esme's heart remained troubled. The ambush had been one thing, but this rune beast attack confirmed her fears. If Cedric had sent such a creature, worse may yet be to come.

Mekeala traced her finger along the mark etched on her ring finger, her thoughts tangled with unease.

Ezekeil has the same mark… Who are you, Ezekeil? And why do I keep dreaming of that ritual?

The same dream had haunted her since she was seven—a boy and a baby bound in a ritual under a swirling sky of magic. The boy had always resembled Ezekeil, and each time she witnessed the ritual, an overwhelming urge to protect them surged through her.

Her gaze lingered on Ezekeil as he conversed with Elrond. The mysteries surrounding him only deepened, but one thing was certain: he was no ordinary warrior.

As the village settled back into uneasy calm, Mekeala's resolve hardened. She would uncover the truth—about Ezekeil, about Cedric, and about herself.

Esme's voice broke her reverie. "We need to prepare, Mekeala. This is just the beginning."

Mekeala nodded, determination gleaming in her silvery-gold eyes. "Then we'll be ready."