Aftermath

The battle was over.

But the weight of it had not lifted.

The forest stood in eerie silence, the aftermath of magic still humming in the air. The battlefield, once alive with light and chaos, was now a graveyard of shadows, their remnants curling into the night like wisps of dying smoke. The trees—twisted and ancient—seemed to watch them, bearing witness to the power unleashed.

And in the middle of it all, Mekeala collapsed.

Ezekeil caught her before she hit the ground, his arms tightening around her limp body.

"Mekeala!" His voice was sharp, his heartbeat hammering in his ears. She wasn't moving.

Her silver-platinum hair spilled over his arms, strands glinting in the soft moonlight. Her breathing was shallow, her skin too pale. The pendant—or whatever it had become—flickered weakly against her chest, its glow fading as if the power inside her had drained it dry.

Ezekeil lowered her gently, cradling her against him. She felt too light—too fragile for someone who had just wielded such devastating power. He brushed his fingers against her cheek. Still warm. That was good.

"She's unconscious," Maya said, kneeling beside them. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge of urgency beneath it.

Ezekeil forced himself to focus. "What happened to her?"

Maya's fingers hovered over Mekeala's forehead, her magic flaring in a soft silver light. "She overextended herself. Her magic surged past what her body could handle. She's completely drained."

Ezekeil's grip tightened slightly. "Then fix it."

Maya shot him a quick glare. "I'm trying. Give me a second."

She placed her hands over Mekeala's chest, her magic sinking into her skin. A faint glow spread across Mekeala's body, but it was uneven, flickering like a dying ember. Maya frowned.

"This isn't just exhaustion. Her magic is unstable."

Jack crouched nearby, keeping his eyes on the forest. "What does that mean?"

Maya's gaze darkened. "It means she's evolving. Her magic isn't settling—it's shifting."

Ezekeil's stomach twisted. Evolving? That wasn't something he wanted to hear right now.

"She'll recover," Maya reassured him, though her voice held a trace of uncertainty. "But she needs time. A lot of it."

Jack let out a long breath, rolling his shoulders. "Great. Then we need to leave. Lira might be gone, but if this place wasn't safe before, it definitely isn't now."

Ezekeil knew he was right. They had to move.

Jack stood, scanning the darkened forest. "I'll scout ahead. We need to get off the main trails and find somewhere to lay low." His daggers flashed as he twirled one absently between his fingers. "Give me ten minutes."

Before anyone could respond, he disappeared into the shadows, his steps silent as a ghost.

Ezekeil didn't hesitate. He scooped Mekeala into his arms, holding her close.

She didn't stir.

His grip on her tightened instinctively, the reality settling into his chest like a weight he couldn't shake. He had fought battle after battle, faced death more times than he could count—but this? This felt different.

She had always been the strongest of them—not in sheer power, but in spirit. In her defiance. In the way she refused to break, no matter how much the world tried to shatter her.

And now she was unconscious in his arms, utterly spent from protecting them all.

His jaw clenched.

He had let her fight alone.

I should have done more.

The thought burned, twisting in his gut.

Maya's voice pulled him back. "Can you carry her?"

Ezekeil looked at her sharply. "Do I look like I can't?"

Maya raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Then let's move."

He adjusted Mekeala in his arms, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. Her breath was steady now, but her expression remained peaceful—too peaceful. It unsettled him.

He had never seen her this still before.

He didn't like it.

The forest was too quiet as they moved. No insects. No distant howls. Only the crunch of their boots against the damp earth.

Maya walked beside Ezekeil, casting an occasional glance toward Mekeala, her magic still flowing subtly into her, keeping her stable.

After what felt like an eternity, Jack returned.

His figure emerged from the trees, his posture tense. That wasn't a good sign.

"I found a place," he said, keeping his voice low. "It's an old hunting cabin—abandoned, but intact. Not far from here."

Ezekeil frowned. "Then what's the problem?"

Jack hesitated. "We're not alone in this forest."

Maya's expression darkened. "Lira's creatures?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't know. But something's watching us."

Ezekeil's grip on Mekeala tightened. He wouldn't let anything else get to her.

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Look, we don't have time to debate. We need to get moving before whatever's out there decides to make itself known."

Ezekeil didn't need to be told twice.

"Lead the way."

The journey to the abandoned cabin was tense. The trees seemed to shift around them, their gnarled branches twisting as if alive. Shadows moved at the edges of their vision, but nothing emerged.

Still, Ezekeil could feel it.

The weight of unseen eyes pressing against them.

Even Maya, who rarely showed fear, kept glancing over her shoulder.

Jack led the way, weaving through the trees with ease, until finally—they reached it.

A small, weathered cabin stood in the middle of a clearing, half-hidden by thick vines and overgrown brush. It looked untouched. Forgotten.

Jack gestured toward it. "It's safe enough. For now."

Ezekeil didn't hesitate. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, stepping inside.

The cabin was small but sturdy—one room, a stone fireplace, and an old wooden table. Dust coated the floor, but otherwise, it was undisturbed.

He lowered Mekeala onto the cot, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. She still hadn't woken.

Maya knelt beside her, checking her pulse. "Her breathing is strong. She just needs rest."

Jack secured the door, his movements swift and precise. "We'll take shifts. I'll go first."

Ezekeil didn't argue.

His attention was on Mekeala.

She looked peaceful. But he knew better.

Something had changed in her.

And when she woke up… nothing would be the same.