Chapter 9: The Growing Conflict

Three days had passed since Ezekeil vanished from Mekeala's sight without a word. She had looked for him tirelessly, finding only empty spots where she thought he might be—training grounds, village paths, and even near Esme's dwelling. Now, determined more than ever, she followed a familiar winding trail toward the stream, her heart set on finally confronting the elusive boy.

The gentle rustling of leaves greeted her as she spotted him by the water's edge, seated on a large, moss-covered rock. His broad back was tense, and he seemed lost in thought, staring blankly at the shimmering water.

A bright smile broke across Mekeala's face. "There you are!" she called, stepping toward him with a basket in hand.

Ezekeil stiffened at her voice, though he didn't turn to look at her. His mind had been in chaos for days, torn between finishing what he had come here to do and the inexplicable hesitation that gnawed at his resolve. The past three days of silently observing her had only made things worse.

"Why are you always sitting here?" she asked, stopping a few paces away from him.

He didn't answer immediately, considering whether he should simply walk away.

"Do you hate me?" Her sudden, unexpected question made him freeze.

He turned his head slightly, his golden eyes narrowing. "We barely know each other. Why should I hate you?" he responded flatly, even surprising himself with the answer.

Mekeala tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm, good point," she said with a grin. "But you sure act like you do."

Instead of leaving, Ezekeil remained seated as he watched her settle beside him on the grass, her skirts pooling around her. The faint scent of wildflowers clung to her, blending with the earthy aroma of the forest.

She lifted the cloth from her basket, revealing freshly baked bread, a bowl of soup carefully sealed in a container, and a handful of bright red berries. "Esme's cooking is the best. Let's eat," she said cheerfully, inviting him with a warm smile.

Ezekeil's instinct was to decline, but something in her easy demeanor made him pause. Without a word, he allowed her to hand him a piece of bread.

They ate in silence, though a strange, tentative comfort lingered between them. The soup's savory warmth curled through the air, and the bread was soft and fragrant. Mekeala seemed content just to share the moment, not pushing him for conversation.

But curiosity soon got the better of her. "Are you from the Central Kingdom?" she asked between bites.

"Not really, but I stayed there," Ezekeil replied curtly.

Her eyes brightened with interest. "What's it like? Is it true the palace walls are made of pure white stone?"

He hesitated before nodding. "They shine under the sun, like polished marble."

Her curiosity grew, and to his surprise, she bombarded him with more questions about the kingdom, the people, and the festivals. Despite himself, Ezekeil found that he was answering her patiently, each response making her smile brighter.

"You're not as scary as you look," she teased, making him blink in surprise.

"I wasn't trying to be scary," he muttered, a bit defensively.

She laughed softly, the sound light and genuine. "Well, mission failed, then."

As they finished the meal, Mekeala wiped her hands and grinned mischievously. "What are your best skills? We already had a duel last time, and you are good with swords. Other than the sword, are you skilled using a spear or archer?"

"All of them," Ezekeil replied confidently, his tone challenging.

Skeptical, Mekeala's grin widened. "Let's have an archery match tomorrow. I'm the best among the best."

Ezekeil thought for a moment before agreeing. "Fine. Tomorrow morning."

"Great!" She stood up, brushing off her skirts. "See you tomorrow, then," she said with a cheerful wave as she walked away, leaving him alone by the stream.

Ezekeil watched her retreating figure, his thoughts a tangled mess.

'Why did I ever agree to this', a long and deep sigh left his thin lip.

The mission that had once been clear-cut now felt murky and complicated, burdened by emotions he didn't want to acknowledge.

He clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.

"I need to emd this… kill her and be done with it", he resolved bitterly, though the doubt gnawed at him, relentless as ever.