Shadows of the Past

The soft hum of magic lingered in the air as Mekeala traced her fingers over the relic Ezekeil had retrieved from the South Desert. Its surface, worn by time, pulsed faintly with an ancient energy neither of them fully understood. The elves had placed it on a stone pedestal within the heart of the Enchanted Forest, surrounded by old texts and enchanted symbols, hoping to decipher its purpose.

Ezekeil stood beside her, his arms crossed as he watched the Elven scholars study the inscriptions. "This isn't just a key," he murmured. "It's a map."

Mekeala looked at him, startled. "A map to what?"

One of the scholars, an elder elf with deep-set emerald eyes, ran his fingers over the glowing etchings. "To something older than the World Tree itself. A source of divine magic that existed long before our time."

A silence fell over them as the words settled in. The relic, once thought to be a mere artifact, now carried a significance greater than they had imagined.

Mekeala exhaled, stepping back. Agnes had warned her that Cedric was searching for divine magic. If this relic truly led to an ancient source of it, then it was exactly what he was after.

Later that evening, as the moon cast silver light through the canopy, Lady Arween guided Mekeala through a meditation ritual. The Guardian of the World Tree believed that, through a deeper connection with the magic surrounding them, Mekeala might uncover truths hidden even from the elves.

The air shimmered with golden energy as Mekeala closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth that pulsed beneath her skin. Then, as if she had been pulled into a current of magic itself, her surroundings shifted.

She stood in a vast, open field, the sky bathed in a soft golden hue. Before her stood a figure—tall, radiant, with flowing white hair and piercing violet eyes.

Grace.

Mekeala's breath caught.

"You've come far," Grace said, her voice a whisper on the wind. "But the battle ahead will test you more than you know."

Mekeala swallowed hard. "Cedric… he's after divine magic. The same power you once wielded."

Grace nodded. "Long ago, I sealed away something far more dangerous than a mere king's ambition. Cedric seeks what I buried, believing it will give him control. But he does not understand the cost."

Mekeala clenched her fists. "Then tell me how to stop him."

Grace smiled, though there was sorrow in her eyes. "You already know the answer. You must find it before he does."

The vision shattered, and Mekeala gasped, stumbling back into reality. Lady Arween caught her before she could fall.

"What did you see?" the Guardian asked.

Mekeala pressed a hand to her chest, her heart racing. "Cedric isn't just after power. He's trying to unseal something—something Grace once locked away."

The weight of her words settled between them. If Cedric succeeded, he wouldn't just control divine magic. He would unleash something ancient and terrible upon their world.

Nearby, Ezekeil sat alone beneath the branches of the World Tree. His father's words still echoed in his mind. "My son… siding with the elves."

He had made his choice. He had stood against his father. But why did the guilt still linger?

A rustle of footsteps drew his attention, and he glanced up to see Lord Elrond approaching. The Elven lord studied him with quiet understanding before sitting beside him.

"You are troubled," Elrond said simply.

Ezekeil hesitated before sighing. "I spent my whole life believing in my father's cause. And now… I am the one fighting against him."

Elrond nodded slowly. "Betrayal is a heavy burden. But tell me, do you regret the choice you made?"

Ezekeil looked down at his hands, then at the elves tending to their wounded, at Mekeala standing tall despite everything she had endured. He shook his head. "No. I don't."

Elrond placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Then that is all that matters."

Elsewhere, Maya poured over old texts, her brows furrowed in concentration. Jack leaned against the table beside her, spinning a dagger between his fingers. "You've been quiet," he noted. "That's never a good sign."

Maya shot him a glare. "I've been thinking."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous."

Ignoring him, she tapped a passage in one of the ancient books. "The prophecy we found in the royal archive. It spoke of a 'Shadow King' who would corrupt divine magic to bring ruin to the world."

Jack's smirk faded. "You think it's Cedric?"

Maya shook her head. "I think Cedric thinks it's him. But the prophecy also spoke of a 'Light Bearer'—someone meant to stop it."

Jack followed her gaze across the camp, where Mekeala stood deep in conversation with Esme and Lady Arween. "Mekeala."

Maya nodded. "And if the prophecy is right, then Cedric's plans go far beyond what we thought."

Meanwhile, Jack had volunteered to infiltrate enemy territory under the cover of darkness. Slipping past Cedric's scattered forces, he moved unseen through the ruins of an old outpost, listening carefully for anything that could give them an advantage.

What he heard chilled him to his core.

Cedric was not retreating. He was amassing power. His forces were growing, and worse—he had uncovered a ritual. A way to corrupt divine magic itself.

By the time Jack returned, breathless and tense, the others had already gathered. "We have a problem," he said grimly. "Cedric found a ritual. If he completes it, he won't just use divine magic. He'll twist it into something else entirely."

Mekeala's heart pounded. The realization settled over her like a suffocating weight.

They were no longer just fighting to stop Cedric.

They were fighting to keep divine magic from being permanently tainted.

Ezekeil sheathed his sword, his expression dark. "Then we leave at dawn. Whatever Cedric is planning—we end it before it begins."

As the camp settled into uneasy silence, a low tremor rippled through the ground beneath them. It was faint, barely noticeable, but Mekeala felt it.

Something ancient was stirring.