Bound by Magic And Blood

Chapter 30: The Hidden Altar

The streets of the Central Kingdom were eerily quiet in the early morning light. Mekeala, Ezekeil, Jack, and Maya moved swiftly through the narrow, winding alleys, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The kingdom had yet to fully awaken, and a thick silence hung in the air.

Mekeala glanced at Maya. "How much farther?"

"We're almost there," Maya replied, her voice low but filled with purpose. "I can feel it… like an energy shifting beneath the earth."

Jack yawned, clearly unimpressed. "Energy, huh? Sounds like an adventure. Do I get to sleep through it?"

Maya shot him a sharp look, but Ezekeil merely smirked. "We're too close to turn back now."

Mekeala didn't speak, but she felt it too—the pull of something ancient, something she couldn't explain. It resonated deep in her chest, like the stirrings of magic she had yet to understand.

Finally, they reached the edge of the kingdom, far from the busy market streets and grand buildings. The city's older district was a shadow of its former self—decayed stone buildings, their walls crumbling with age. The air felt thicker here, heavy with the weight of history.

Maya stopped in front of a crumbling stone courtyard. It was hidden from the main roads, tucked away by overgrown vines and forgotten by most of the kingdom.

"This is it," Maya said. She stepped into the courtyard and surveyed the area with a practiced eye.

The others followed, their movements quiet. The courtyard was nearly swallowed by wildflowers, the stones long reclaimed by nature. But at its center, partially buried in the earth, stood an ancient altar.

Mekeala approached it slowly, her heart quickening as she saw the runes carved into the stone. The air around it buzzed with old magic.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against the surface. A chill ran through her body, followed by a strange warmth that spread across her chest, like something deep inside her was responding to the altar's presence. She blinked, trying to make sense of the sensation.

"This altar… feels familiar," she whispered.

Jack crouched down beside the altar, inspecting it. "Yeah? Maybe it's just your magic acting up." Mekeala shook her head, unable to explain the feeling. It was more than just magic. It felt like she was connected to it—like the altar recognized her.

Maya knelt by the side of the altar and began brushing away the dirt. Her fingers traced over the intricate carvings, and her breath hitched.

"This… this mark," Maya whispered, her voice almost reverent. "I've seen it before."

Mekeala frowned. "Where?"

Maya hesitated before glancing at Mekeala's chest. "Your pendant."

Mekeala's fingers instinctively curled around the small silver pendant hanging from her neck. It had been with her for as long as she could remember—the only thing her mother left behind before she died giving birth to her.

A chill ran down her spine.

She had never known what the mark on her pendant meant.

Until now.

"It's the same," Maya said, voice barely above a whisper. "This altar is connected to your bloodline, Mekeala."

The weight of her mother's pendant suddenly felt heavier. Her heart pounded as she stared at the ancient symbol etched into the altar—her family's crest.

Before she could fully process it, the altar trembled. A low rumble echoed beneath their feet, and the runic symbols glowed to life, lighting up the entire courtyard in a silvery-blue haze.

A strange force surged from the altar, wrapping around Mekeala like an invisible current. She gasped as the sensation overwhelmed her—magic pulling at her very soul.

Her fingers tingled as they still rested on the stone, and suddenly, everything around her warped.

The world vanished into darkness.

Then—a vision.

Mekeala stood frozen as the shadows peeled away, revealing a great kingdom, shining in its prime. The air shimmered with golden light, and at the heart of it all stood a grand throne room.

And on the throne—

A woman with silver-platinum hair and golden-silver eyes.

Mekeala's breath hitched.

The woman… she looked just like her.

She stood tall, exuding an aura of grace and power, her presence commanding yet warm. The throne beneath her bore the same emblem as the one on Mekeala's pendant.

Mekeala's chest tightened as a question burned in her mind.

Who is she?

Before she could speak, the woman's gaze turned toward her.

"The blood of the forgotten line has returned."

The words echoed inside Mekeala's mind, as if they were meant only for her.

Mekeala's lips parted, but her voice wouldn't come out. Her body felt weightless, as if she were merely a spirit watching the past unfold.

She wanted to ask—who are you? Why do you look like me?

But before she could, another voice—a whisper—spoke within her mind.

"You are connected to this past, Mekeala. The choice is yours. The stone must never fall into the wrong hands."

The vision shattered like glass.

The courtyard, the altar—everything—came rushing back.

Mekeala staggered, barely catching herself as the glow from the altar faded. Her body felt drained, her breath shallow.

"Mekeala!" Ezekeil's voice snapped her back to reality as he caught her arm, steadying her. "Are you alright?"

Mekeala looked around, confused. The others were there, watching her with concern, but her mind was still reeling from what she had just witnessed.

"I… I saw something," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I saw a woman… she looked like me."

Maya's eyes widened. "Who was she?"

Mekeala clenched her pendant. "I don't know."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Wait, and this stone thing—what is it?"

Before Mekeala could answer, the ground beneath them shuddered once more. A crackling energy surged from the altar, and the runes began to glow again, bright and powerful.

The whisper in Mekeala's mind echoed one final time, clearer than before:

"The choice is yours."