Bound by Magic And Blood

The night was deep, yet sleep refused to claim Mekeala. Lying in her tent, she stared at the fabric ceiling, her mind drowning in the flood of memories that Ezekeil had unearthed.

Pure royal blood.

The words echoed relentlessly in her head. It felt surreal—no, wrong. She had spent her entire life believing she was just a girl, raised in hiding, trained to survive. But now, the truth twisted everything she thought she knew.

Her fingers traced the silver pendant resting against her chest. My mother's only gift to me.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced—one from years ago.

She was five, sitting in Esme's lap as the elder woman fastened the pendant around her neck. The weight of it felt too heavy for her small frame. "This belonged to your mother," Esme had whispered, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "She would have wanted you to have it."

Another memory surfaced—one of pain. Esme standing over her, firm but not unkind, forcing her to continue spellcasting long after exhaustion had set in. "You must be strong, Mekeala. You must be ready."

And then, the gentlest memory of all—Lady Arween, the World Tree guardian, patting her head. "Always be a good ruler," she had said, though Mekeala had been too young to understand why.

Now, it all made sense.

Esme hadn't just been training her to survive. She had been preparing her.

A shiver ran down her spine. She clenched the pendant tightly, her breath uneven.

"But I'm only twelve."

Morning came, but Mekeala's exhaustion lingered. The camp was already being packed when she emerged from her tent. Ezekeil and Jack were rolling up their sleeping mats, while Maya extinguished the fire.

Maya was the first to speak. "So, where to next?"

Ezekeil glanced at Mekeala, waiting for her decision.

She hesitated. A part of her wanted to turn back, to return to the safety of the Enchanted Forest. But another part—the one that had survived everything—refused to run.

Taking a slow breath, she met Ezekeil's gaze.

"We need to find answers," she said firmly. "There must be a place that holds Caelithar's history, something that can tell me who I really am." Her fingers brushed the pendant again. "You know the Central Kingdom better than any of us, Ezekeil. Lead us."

Ezekeil was quiet for a moment before exhaling sharply. "It's risky."

Mekeala's resolve hardened. "No matter the risk, I have to do this."

Maya and Jack exchanged a glance before nodding in agreement.

Ezekeil ran a hand through his ash-gray hair, clearly reluctant, but he gave in. "The Royal Archive," he finally said. "It's one of the most guarded places in the Central Kingdom. But I've been there before. There are a few sections that might have what we need."

They gathered around a rough map Ezekeil sketched in the dirt.

"The Royal Archive is here," he pointed near the Main Palace. "But we can't just walk in. It's restricted to scholars, royal advisors, and high-ranking knights."

Jack frowned. "So we'll need disguises?"

"Exactly," Ezekeil said. "We'll need to sneak inside the palace grounds first. There's a tunnel outside the palace walls that leads into Rose Palace, the residence for noble families and high-born guests. From there, we can move north toward the Archive."

Maya folded her arms. "And how do we find this tunnel?"

Ezekeil smirked. "I already know where it is. Used it a few times when I—" he paused, shaking his head. "Let's just say it's an old escape route."

Mekeala narrowed her eyes. "If it's an escape tunnel, won't there be guards?"

"Not if we time it right," Ezekeil assured her. "But once we're inside Rose Palace, we'll have to improvise. We'll need to blend in."

Jack sighed. "Which means stealing clothes."

Mekeala felt a strange chill run through her. Sneaking into the palace was one thing. But stealing meant taking direct action, crossing a line she had never dared to cross before.

Ezekeil studied her reaction. "You can stay behind if you want."

She lifted her chin. "No. I'm coming."

He smirked slightly. "Didn't think you'd back out."

Maya grinned. "Alright, let's break into a palace."

Jack groaned. "Why does that sound like a terrible idea?"

Ezekeil's golden eyes darkened. "Because it is."

A heavy silence settled between them as the weight of their decision sank in.

Mekeala traced her ring finger absentmindedly, feeling the faint mark on her skin. A memory surfaced—the first time she saw Ezekeil in the Elven village, she had noticed the same mark on his ring finger.

She looked at him now, debating whether to bring it up. But the moment passed, and she stayed silent.

For now.

That night, as they camped near the outskirts of the Central Kingdom, Mekeala lay awake again.

Her mind was filled with doubts, with questions, with uncertainty.

But then, an image flashed in her mind—Grace, standing in the moonlight, silver-platinum hair flowing like silk.

"Hatred will only bring destruction. And vice versa."

Mekeala clenched her fists.

She didn't know what awaited them inside the Royal Archive.

But she was ready to find out.