Race Agains Time

Chapter 54: Race Against Time

The cold night air clung to them as they moved swiftly through the ruined streets of Cedric's stronghold. Every shadow felt like a threat, every flicker of movement a sign that they were being watched. The once-grand city had become a twisted reflection of itself, the corruption stretching along the walls like veins of decay.

Jack led the way, slipping through the narrow alleys with the ease of someone who had spent his life avoiding trouble. Maya and Ezekeil carried Lord Elrond between them, careful not to jostle his already failing body. His breathing was shallow, his once-proud face pale and lined with pain.

Mekeala stayed close, her heart pounding in time with their hurried steps. Something still clung to her from Cedric's magic—an invisible weight pressing against her chest. She ignored it, focusing instead on the urgency of their escape.

Ezekeil's voice was low but firm. "We need to move faster."

Mekeala turned to him, catching the flicker of concern in his golden eyes before he turned away. He hadn't said it out loud, but she knew he was watching her—waiting to see if the magic Cedric had hit her with was still affecting her.

Jack suddenly froze at the mouth of a side street, lifting a hand to silence them. Mekeala held her breath.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the city—too many.

"They're coming," Jack muttered.

A second later, the first arrow struck the wall beside them.

"Run!"

They sprinted forward as the shouts of Cedric's forces filled the air. Shadow-infused warriors spilled into the streets, their eyes glowing with corrupted magic. Maya threw up a wall of fire, buying them seconds, but the enemy was relentless.

"We won't outrun them!" Jack called back.

Ezekeil growled under his breath. "Then we make a stand."

Mekeala's heart clenched. "No, we have to get Elrond out of here—"

"I'll hold them off," Ezekeil said firmly, stepping forward and drawing his sword. The golden glow of his blade cut through the darkness like a beacon.

Mekeala's breath caught. "Ezekeil, no—"

His gaze locked onto hers for a single, steady moment. "Get to the forest."

Then he turned and charged into the enemy.

Something inside Mekeala screamed at her to stay.

But Jack grabbed her wrist. "We don't have time, Mekeala!"

Maya strengthened her grip on Elrond, her hands glowing as she used every ounce of magic she had left to stabilize him. "We have to go. Now!"

Mekeala's feet felt like lead, but she forced herself to move. She had to trust him.

Jack led them into the underground passage, a forgotten elven tunnel buried beneath the ruined city. The walls were lined with old runes, their light flickering dimly as if sensing their presence.

Mekeala's pulse pounded in her ears. She could still hear the echoes of battle above them.

Would Ezekeil be okay?

She pushed the thought away. Focus.

Lord Elrond groaned in pain, his body twitching. Maya gritted her teeth, pouring more of her own energy into him. "It's getting worse," she whispered.

Mekeala knelt beside them, her chest tightening at the sight of the once-mighty elven lord reduced to this fragile state. His body was rejecting their magic—Cedric's corruption had taken root too deeply.

A deep ache settled in her chest. "We're losing him."

Jack glanced back at the entrance of the tunnel. "We need to keep moving. If Ezekeil's alive, he'll catch up."

The words sent a fresh wave of panic through her. If.

She refused to believe that.

Minutes stretched into eternity, but finally, they reached the outskirts of the Enchanted Forest. The towering trees stood like silent sentinels, their protective magic shimmering faintly in the air.

Lady Arween and Esme were already waiting for them. Relief and urgency filled their eyes.

Esme gasped when she saw Elrond. "Bring him inside, quickly!"

Maya and Jack rushed him forward, Esme placing her hands over his chest. Magic flared, but even she hesitated. "The corruption runs too deep," she murmured.

Lady Arween pressed a hand to the World Tree, her expression dark. "We will do what we can."

Mekeala barely heard them.

She was still staring back at the edge of the forest. Waiting.

The moment she saw the silhouette moving through the trees, her breath caught.

Ezekeil.

He was covered in blood, his breathing ragged, but he was alive.

And he was looking at her.

For the first time since they met, Mekeala sprinted toward him without hesitation.

He barely had time to react before she threw her arms around him, gripping him tightly.

He stiffened—but only for a second. Then, slowly, his arms came around her too.

"You're alive," she whispered.

His voice was rough. "You didn't think I'd let them kill me that easily, did you?"

She pulled back, just enough to see his face. Their eyes met, and the rest of the world faded.

For a heartbeat, she thought he might say something—something important.

But instead, he exhaled and murmured, "You're hurt."

Mekeala realized then that she was shaking. The exhaustion, the magic, everything was catching up to her.

She managed a small, tired smile. "I could say the same about you."

His grip on her waist tightened briefly before he let her go. "You should rest."

She wanted to protest, but her body betrayed her.

The last thing she felt was Ezekeil catching her again as she collapsed.

His voice was the last thing she heard.

"Mekeala."