BOOM!
The double doors exploded inward, crashing against the marble walls.
Inside was a council in session. Low murmurs. Politics in motion.
And as the duo expected, there was no Cassim to be found.
How unfortunate…
Whoosh!
Two burning heads flew and rolled to a stop at the center of the polished floor.
Everything stopped at that sight.
Silence took the room hostage.
Gasps resounded.
Swords were half-drawn.
Young advisors retched into their goblets.
One guard shouted—
“WHO DARES—”
And then he was cut in two.
No one saw the blade.
No one heard it.
They just saw two halves of a man slide apart.
Malik stepped into the light, and suddenly, the entire hall felt colder, even with the fire or perhaps because of it.
Guards began to surround him, still silent, too shocked and terrified to speak.
But before they could form a proper circle around him.
Boom!
The two heads exploded, splattering bone and blood, killing all that was around them.
Malik didn’t even look at who remained. Didn’t even give them the honor of direct acknowledgment.
Instead, his eyes swept across the room. Taking them in.
Ministers. Mercenaries. Seekers. Scholars. Wealthy traders.
Decay… inhumane corruption. This was where it festered and spread.
Where the city’s rot had fermented into smiling policy and coward’s laws.
He would ensure its destruction.
“They’ll get their signal now.”
…
…
…
Malik.
A talking owl.
Banu Sasan, a few rebels, their families, and a poor draft monster pulling a wagon that housed all they had.
They camped far from the city, sitting around a campfire, warming themselves up.
Those close were mostly women and children, as most men sat at the edge like Malik.
And they all stared up at one thing…
Fire.
Not the campfire, no, this was distant, way back in the city.
A fire so massive, it could easily be seen even from this far away.
It was almost a second Shams…
“You okay?”
The tall one of Banu Sasan asked.
“…”
Malik didn’t respond.
“…Right. Stupid question. But I guess I really didn’t expect something like… that for a signal. Didn’t even know a Jinn could do such a thing.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“It sure did!”
Smiling to himself, he walked away, feeling great now that he had managed to make his lord respond, a seemingly rare occurrence.
Sinbad nudged his cheek.
“You did well today… You didn’t burn them all.”
Malik exhaled.
“Should’ve.”
“No.”
Sinbad shook his head.
“You exercised control; that’s what matters. I do not believe that peacock scoundrel would have held back, nor restrained his men, had we chosen to burn them all.”
“…Huda?”
Malik asked, not looking up.
“She’s safe. Confused. Angry. But safe.”
Malik nodded.
“…I’ll miss her… them.”
Sinbad leaned into him.
“I know, Elder Brother. I know. I’ll miss them as well.”
Malik didn’t sleep that night.
Just watched the Second Shams die slowly.
Tomorrow they would be upon the bastards.
Tomorrow would be war.
And this time…
He wouldn’t show mercy.
…
Early morning arrived, and a scout approached the camp, breathless.
“Cassim’s entourage has been spotted southeast of here, two hours off; they might make camp soon.”
Malik’s gaze lifted, a spark igniting.
He stood without a word and faced his men, who struggled to wake.
Though not all, as the tall man who remained awake alongside his Lord, stepped forward, concern etched on his face.
“It’s a trap, My Lord. Cassim knows we’re behind him.”
He saw it as clear as day.
It was a bait—a bright-red, screaming, obvious-ass trap.
Malik’s eyes scanned his face.
“Your name?”
The man lowered his head almost immediately.
“It’s Kabir, my Lord!”
Malik looked away.
“Well, Kabir, it doesn’t matter.”
Sinbad flapped his wings, agitated.
Hoot!
‘Elder Brother, heed his warning. This reeks of deception.’
At those telepathic words, Malik’s cold eyes met Sinbad’s.
“We will not delay his death.”
The camp fell silent.
Their Lord’s fury was barely contained, and none dared to stand in its path.
With a curt nod, Malik walked away from the camp and disappeared.
He was off to prepare.
…
The snow parted like water under Malik’s feet.
He could barely be seen, a blur of smoke and fire and steel.
Each step thundered with the force of many tens of siege weapons.
His Goliath’s Fall pulsed over and under his skin, his muscles rippling with strength. Snow vaporized beneath the pressure of his Devil’s Footsteps, no longer leaving his actual footsteps, but craters shaped like hooves of a damned beast.
Golden fire burst from his palms as he propelled himself forward, a heat mirage tearing across a frozen world, as his Ember’s Touch lit up the sky behind him, painting the morning frost in flame.
It was incredible that he managed to have three of his four abilities be useful in travel, making him one Hell of a speedster.
He wasn’t running.
He was hunting.
That was what he specialized in.
Forests were now thinned out, replaced by ridges of snow-covered stone.
It was there, sprawled across a low, frozen ridge, that he saw them.
The wolves.
The same ones he met earlier, only more in number.
There were dozens. Maybe a hundred. Hunched low, snarling, teeth flashing in the pale dawn light. Smaller ones circled, hackles raised, low growls trembling the earth.
Malik knew it.
It was why he came here.
Their territory was at the edge, way north of here.
Their being here, especially so with these numbers, meant that they were following him around, wanting to exact revenge for what he had done to their kin.
Good thing he didn’t learn from his lesson.
Otherwise, they wouldn’t have delivered themselves to him.
The pack tried to intimidate him, but Malik didn’t even see them.
His eyes went straight to the one in the middle, the alpha.
A Ṭāghiya.
White-furred, massive, easily the size of two wagons stacked atop each other.
Its fur shimmered like pure snow, wrapped around muscle that twitched with rage.
Piercing blue eyes locked with his, and the beast stepped forward, the snow giving way under its bulk.
Malik’s lips twitched.
‘So this is what it feels like…’
To be hated.
To be feared.
To be dreaded.
He liked it.
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