A Fragile Calm

The soft rustling of leaves filled the air as the Enchanted Forest basked in the gentle glow of dawn. The battle was over, but the weight of it still lingered in the air. The elves moved through the village, their steps careful, their voices hushed as they tended to the wounded and reinforced their defenses.

Inside one of the healing chambers, Mekeala remained unconscious, her pale complexion a stark contrast to the warmth of the morning light filtering through the wooden walls.

Ezekeil sat beside her bed, his arms resting on his knees, his golden eyes locked onto her unmoving face. He had barely left her side since they returned. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her collapsing into his arms, her body drained from the battle.

He had been in countless fights. He had seen people fall before. But the thought of something happening to her—of her not waking up—left a hollow feeling in his chest that he didn't know how to deal with.

Jack leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him with mild amusement. "You know, staring at her isn't going to wake her up."

Ezekeil shot him a glare. "Do you ever shut up?"

Jack smirked. "Not when you're this entertaining." He stepped into the room, glancing at Mekeala before looking back at Ezekeil. "You're worried."

Ezekeil's jaw clenched. "She almost died."

Jack tilted his head. "Yeah. And yet, you didn't react like that when I almost died."

Maya entered, holding a small vial of glowing blue liquid. "That's because he doesn't like you," she said flatly, setting the vial down on the bedside table.

Jack pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "That hurts, really."

Maya rolled her eyes before turning to Ezekeil. "She's stable. The healers say she just needs rest."

Ezekeil nodded, but his body didn't relax. He wanted to believe that was true, but he still remembered how cold she felt in his arms, how her breath had barely stirred.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "She'll be fine. You're the one who looks like you need rest."

Ezekeil ignored him.

Then, a faint sound broke through the quiet. A soft groan.

Mekeala's fingers twitched before her eyes fluttered open.

Ezekeil was out of his chair in an instant.

Mekeala blinked, confusion flickering across her face before her gaze settled on them. "What… happened?"

"You nearly got yourself killed," Ezekeil muttered, his voice sharper than he intended.

Mekeala frowned slightly, as if trying to recall, then her eyes widened. "Elrond—"

Ezekeil exhaled through his nose, frustrated. "You just woke up, and you're already thinking about someone else?"

Mekeala pushed herself up on shaky arms. He was at her side before she could fully sit up, his hands instinctively steadying her. She stiffened slightly at the touch but didn't pull away.

Maya, leaning against the table, answered before Ezekeil could. "He's alive. Still unconscious, but stable."

Mekeala let out a relieved breath. "Thank the gods…"

Jack shook his head with a small smile. "You almost died, and your first thought is work? You really are hopeless."

Mekeala gave him a tired look. "We don't have time to rest."

Ezekeil scowled. "You do."

She turned to him then, and for a second, something unspoken passed between them. His hand was still resting against her arm, as if he hadn't realized he was still holding onto her.

She tilted her head. "You didn't leave, did you?"

His grip tightened just slightly before he let go. "You needed someone to make sure you didn't do something reckless the second you woke up."

Mekeala smiled faintly. "That does sound like me."

Jack clapped his hands together. "Alright, since our princess is awake, let's move on. The elves are waiting."

Ezekeil gave Jack a sharp look, but Mekeala was already swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

She swayed slightly, and Ezekeil immediately stepped closer.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though she gripped the wooden frame of the bed a little tighter than necessary.

His expression remained unreadable. "We'll see."

The village was still recovering. The damage from the battle was visible, but the elves were moving with a quiet determination. The World Tree's protective magic had been restored, though the barrier surrounding the forest was weaker than before.

Lady Arween and Esme were waiting for them inside the council hall.

Mekeala noticed immediately that one chair remained empty.

"Elrond?" she asked.

Esme sighed. "Still unconscious. But the corruption has stopped spreading."

Mekeala clenched her fists. That was something, at least.

Lady Arween gestured for them to sit. "Now that you are awake, there is something we need to discuss."

Mekeala's stomach twisted. She already knew what it was.

Cedric.

"The attack on Elrond wasn't random," Lady Arween said. "Cedric set a trap. He lured Elrond into it the moment you left for the stronghold."

Mekeala stiffened. "How?"

Legolas, an elder elf with sharp green eyes, spoke up. "A decoy force. He made it seem as if another attack was coming. Elrond took a small force to intercept, but Cedric was waiting. He captured him before anyone realized it was a trap."

Maya's fingers curled into fists. "Then if we had been just a little later—"

"The ritual would have been completed," Esme finished grimly.

A heavy silence fell over them.

Ezekeil broke it. "Who's leading the elves now?"

Lady Arween turned to Legolas. "Until Elrond recovers, he will take charge."

Legolas gave a short nod. "I do not intend to replace Elrond. But our people need guidance, and I will do what must be done."

Mekeala met his gaze. "Then what's our next move?"

Legolas leaned forward. "We prepare."

Mekeala exhaled slowly. They had stopped Cedric's ritual, but the fight was far from over.

Ezekeil glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was already planning their next move, already carrying the weight of the war on her shoulders.

And for the first time, he realized something.

It wasn't just admiration he felt for her.

It was something far more dangerous.