The Descent into Darkness

The first light of dawn barely touched the treetops as Mekeala stood near the base of the World Tree, staring into the distance. The air was thick with the remnants of the battle, the scent of burned magic and damp earth lingering like a silent warning.

They were leaving. And this time, they weren't sure they'd come back.

Ezekeil adjusted the strap of his sword, stealing a glance at Mekeala. There was something about her in this moment—the way her hair caught the golden hues of the rising sun, the way her shoulders remained squared despite everything weighing on her. She had changed. He had always known she was strong, but now he could feel it—an invisible pull that made it harder to look away.

Mekeala turned suddenly, catching his gaze. "You ready?"

Ezekeil hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

For a brief second, he considered saying something more, something about the way she had stepped between him and Cedric during the last battle, how she had faced the darkness without hesitation. But the moment passed, and he swallowed the words.

The group gathered near the forest's edge, where Lady Arween and Esme awaited them.

"The Forbidden Vale is treacherous," Lady Arween warned, handing Mekeala a small vial filled with silver liquid. "This is a blessing from the World Tree. If Cedric's magic tries to consume you, this will shield you—once."

Mekeala took the vial carefully, nodding. "Thank you."

Esme's expression was unreadable. "Stay together. And whatever happens—don't trust what you see."

With that final warning, they set off.

The Forbidden Vale was unlike any place Mekeala had ever seen. The land was too still, too unnatural, as if frozen in time. The trees were twisted into impossible shapes, their branches spiraling toward an unseen sky. Shadows moved when they shouldn't.

They had been walking for hours when Mekeala's steps faltered. A pull, deep in her core, made her breath hitch.

Before she could stumble, strong hands caught her.

Ezekeil's grip was firm, steady, his face mere inches from hers. "Are you alright?"

Mekeala's heart pounded, and she wasn't sure if it was from the magic or the way his voice sounded too close, too concerned.

"I… I think the magic here is reacting to me," she admitted.

Ezekeil didn't let go immediately. His hands lingered at her waist before he finally exhaled and stepped back. "Then we move faster."

Maya, ahead of them, suddenly froze. "Something's wrong."

A faint whisper curled through the mist. Then, without warning, Jack collapsed to his knees. His eyes were wide, his body stiff as if caught in an invisible grip.

Mekeala rushed forward, shaking his shoulder. "Jack!"

Jack's lips parted, his voice hoarse. "It's… not real."

The illusion hit Mekeala like a crashing wave. Suddenly, she wasn't in the Forbidden Vale anymore. She was in the palace—standing before King Caesar.

"Take it," his voice murmured, smooth as silk. "This is your birthright."

A crown rested in his hands, gleaming with power.

Mekeala clenched her fists. "No. I don't want it."

"You carry my blood," Caesar whispered. "You will see, in time."

The vision fractured.

Mekeala gasped, stumbling backward. Ezekeil caught her again.

Maya, panting, was already helping Jack to his feet. "Illusion magic," she said. "The Vale is testing us."

Ezekeil was still holding onto Mekeala, his grip grounding. "Are you okay?" His voice was lower this time, almost… hesitant.

Mekeala met his eyes. Something flickered there—concern, maybe something more.

She swallowed. "Yeah. Let's keep moving."

They reached Cedric's stronghold by nightfall.

But it was no longer just a stronghold.

The city had transformed into something dark, something unnatural. Buildings twisted into warped structures, shadows slithered between alleyways, and the people… They were no longer entirely human.

Maya's voice was a whisper. "He's already begun."

Figures lurked beneath the ruined towers, their faces half-covered in black veins, their eyes hollow. Cedric's experimentations had turned them into something twisted.

Ezekeil's grip on his sword tightened. "We need to stop this. Now."

They moved carefully through the streets, avoiding detection as long as they could. But the corruption was alive here. The ground pulsed beneath them, as if the land itself had been infected.

Mekeala felt something stronger ahead.

And then they saw it.

A massive, open courtyard lay ahead, bathed in a strange violet glow. At its center, a stone altar had been erected. Dark energy swirled above it, crackling in the air like an impending storm.

Cedric stood at its base, his form wreathed in shadow. He was finishing the ritual.

Mekeala barely had time to process the scene before her gaze landed on the stone slab in front of him.

There was a sacrifice.

Bound in chains, struggling weakly, was Elrond.

Mekeala's breath hitched. "No."

Cedric's voice cut through the air like ice. "Ah… You're just in time."

Before they could react, the corrupted energy lashed out—striking Mekeala directly.

Pain exploded through her body. It was like fire and ice at the same time, tearing into her very soul.

Ezekeil shouted her name.

She heard footsteps—someone running toward her—Ezekeil? She wasn't sure.

Then everything went dark.

The last thing she saw was Ezekeil's face, twisted in panic, his hand reaching for her as the shadows swallowed her whole.