As the smoke filled the air, Ezekiel's vision became clouded, but that was just the beginning of his struggle.
The smoke seemed to be closing in on him, suffocating him at an alarming rate.
It was as though he had been plunged into a raging inferno.
Typically, the effects of smoke inhalation would take some time to manifest, but this was not a normal situation.
Ezekiel's consciousness began to slip away, and in that moment, he realized that he was under a spell.
It was shocking to him that someone in his society would have access to such a spell.
In school, they were only taught a limited number of spells that were largely useless in real-life situations.
To be attacked by a spell that was not in his repertoire was both unexpected and unsettling.
It made him wonder what other secrets and spells were being kept hidden from him and the rest of society.
Ezekiel lay on the ground, feeling vulnerable and powerless, as a wave of unease washed over him. The menacing threat of the masked assailant lingered in his thoughts, causing him to shudder involuntarily.
Yet, despite the fear that gripped him, Ezekiel's unwavering affection for his dear friend granted him the courage to speak those valiant words.
"I will find you and kill you," he declared, his voice a low but resolute rumble. It was both a warning and a vow, a plea and a proclamation.
Ezekiel didn't know the identity or motives of his assailant, but he was resolute in his conviction that should any harm befall his friend, retribution would be swift and decisive.
As Ezekiel looked around, the darkness shrouded his surroundings, leaving him disoriented and unable to recognize his location.
The dizziness that overcame him when he tried to stand left him incapacitated, and he resorted to placing his palms on his knees and crossing his legs, in an attempt to steady himself.
Though he appeared calm on the outside, his heart seethed with anger and fury towards the masked man who had abducted his brother.
The desire to burn the place to the ground and rescue his sibling burned within him like a raging inferno, but his weakened physical state prevented him from taking any immediate action.
With a laser-like focus, Ezekiel leaned forward, straining to analyze his surroundings, to pick up any hints or clues that could aid him in his mission.
He sensed a multitude of energies around him, but each person seemed to be enveloped in some sort of shield or was actively hiding their aura.
It was as if they were trying to blend in with the citizens of his country, with nothing special or noteworthy about them.
Yet, Ezekiel's heightened senses could pick up on a subtle difference.
There was something off, something not quite right about these people.
He knew that he had to tread carefully and be cautious, for the safety of his brother and himself depended on it.
As Ezekiel slowly regained consciousness, a voice pierced through the darkness of his mind.
It wasn't the same voice as the masked man who had attacked him earlier. This new voice belonged to a young man in his late 20s, and it was filled with a sense of urgency.
Ezekiel's eyes flickered open, and he found himself in a small room that felt more like a dungeon than anything else.
The cell was isolated in a way that felt abnormal, and the energy surrounding it was immense. It wasn't a technological energy, though; it was something that felt like it was born from magic.
The source of that energy felt continuous, permanent, and unyielding.
As Ezekiel took stock of his surroundings, he calmly asked, "Who is this?" The question hung in the air, unanswered, for a few moments.
Ezekiel's ability to remain calm in the face of adversity was a testament to his strength of character.
Even now, trapped in a strange, isolated cell, he refused to let panic overtake him.
Instead, his mind raced as he searched for a way out. The man before him spoke with a certain level of familiarity, as if he knew him.
And as he listened, it became clear that his suspicions were correct. He had been followed, not just by the government, but by this group as well.
Impatient to get to the heart of the matter, Ezekiel tried to steer the conversation.
"Let's skip the introduction," he said, his eyes still closed as he focused his attention elsewhere.
"Who are 'us'?" The man laughed, a dry and bitter sound. "Your brother," he said finally. "If you want to see him again, you're going to have to put in a little effort." Ezekiel's heart leapt at the mention of his brother, but he knew better than to let his guard down.
He kept his expression neutral, waiting for the man to say more. But the man fell silent, leaving Ezekiel to wonder what he would have to do to secure his brother's release.
Ezekiel's mind was racing with thoughts of his little brother Nathan.
The mere mention of his name made Ezekiel lose his composure and shout in anger.
But then he realized that the man had probably mentioned Nathan just to provoke him, and his anger quickly dissipated.
Despite his attempts to remain calm, Ezekiel's surroundings seemed to be heating up rapidly.
He forced himself to stand up and began pacing around the small cell, searching for any clues about his location.
But there was nothing there, no doors or windows, no way to connect him with the outside world.
The heat was becoming unbearable, and Ezekiel felt like he was suffocating.
He wondered if this was some kind of trap, designed to weaken him and make him more vulnerable to his captors. But he refused to give up hope.
He knew that he had to find a way out, for his own sake and for Nathan's.
Ezekiel's mind was buzzing with ideas on how he could escape this suffocating cell.
His thoughts raced from digging holes in the walls to creating an escape route underground, but the unbearable heat and dizziness made his attempts futile.
Sweat poured down his face as he struggled to catch his breath. He removed his shirt and coat, hoping it would alleviate some of the heat, but it was to no avail.
The heat only intensified, making it unbearable.
As time went by, Ezekiel's body grew weaker, and he fell to his knees.
He put his hands on the ground, feeling the scorching heat beneath his palms. It dawned on him that there was no fire, but something else was causing the unbearable heat.
Ezekiel wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck with his arm, his anger rising as he realized the masked man was trying to cook him alive.
He let out a frustrated sigh and muttered, "This fucking bastard wants to cook me alive ."