Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death

Chapter 305: Fly Little Owl

***

{Inside the projection}

People of all manner of life would say one only dies once.

That might be true for most people.

Malik though?

He might’ve died more times than he took in a breath.

But this time…

This time, it felt final.

A proper death.

A proper end.

A “break.”

He had died sometime between that last step and the fall.

Perhaps he was never going to fulfill his revenge.

His mantle might not have been as strong as it should’ve been.

Regrets upon regrets upon regrets… a life of nothing but tragedy.

And now… now that he had glimpsed upon happiness, upon a life not alone.

It was gone.

All of it was taken away.

The sandglass had eaten its fill.

Malik only had memories, only feelings.

He remembered the sand. How warm it felt on his cheek. How it sank beneath him like it knew he wasn’t coming back, preparing a grave for him to sink in.

Then, nothing.

Not even the darkness that he was used to.

Just… blank. A blank. A hand had wiped the world clean and had forgotten to put him back in it.

But then, the warmth against the cold had returned, and with them came…

“He’s not breathing anymore.”

Voices.

“No, wait—he is. Barely—”

Far away.

“By God, he’s still alive.”

“What even did this to him?”

“I told you to bring more cloth!”

Then nothing again.

Like he was sleeping underwater. Far, far, underwater. In the deepest of the Ten Seas.

The next time he came back, it was dark. Stars overhead. Big ones. Real stars, not the painted ones they had in the palace ceilings.

He felt something cold against his chest.

Wet. Sticky. Someone sobbing nearby.

Malik didn’t move. Didn’t want to.

He’d done what he came to do.

So why was he still here?

Couldn’t ’They’ come and take him already?

Why make him wait? It wasn’t like he could get back up…

It wasn’t like he could do anything in this state…

Nothing about his enemies…

He was gone.

“Elder Brother…”

“…”

“If you can hear me, stay.”

“…”

“Just a little longer.”

“…”

“Just until the others come.”

“…”

“…Please.”

Malik knew that one.

That voice belonged to Sinbad.

Malik wanted to say something. Anything.

Tell him to stop crying. Tell him that he was all right.

But his mouth wouldn’t work.

His body felt like dust, held together with pure stubbornness he himself couldn’t originate.

Every breath rattled through broken ribs, every twitch sent fire down his spine.

He was wrong about one thing.

Yes, he wasn’t alive.

But he wasn’t gone.

He was in between.

And the world wouldn’t let him choose.

Days passed… Or so he believed.

It was hard to tell.

Sometimes it was light.

Sometimes dark.

Sometimes red from fire.

Sometimes white with snow.

People came and went.

Voices he recognized.

Kabir. Rami. Sarah, Tarek, and Zayna, always near. Always watching.

Sometimes he felt their hands touch his body. Washing blood from his arms.

Changing his clothes, cleaning him, covering him when the wind picked up or when snow fell.

Other times, he felt heat. Spells. Light pressed to his chest and back. Hugging him.

Priests whispering their scripture, Old Tongue. Trying to drag him back.

Using all they could, no matter the abysmal chances.

“His soul hasn’t gone… yet.”

“It’s waiting for something.”

“What?”

Kabir asked.

“…”

“…”

“…”

No one answered.

They did not know.

Because even Malik didn’t know.

Only Sinbad did, and he wasn’t giving answers.

Malik only dreamed throughout all of that.

Or maybe remembered.

Felt the weight of his blade again.

The way it hummed before it was called upon.

Saw his mother. Briefly. Her back. Walking away. Always walking away.

Heard Rehan’s laugh. Layla’s little dagger slicing through the wind.

Fariq’s awful singing. Hassan’s speech.

Jasmine’s beautiful blossom.

The Old Cane.

A large part of him still ached for that.

Letting go of the chains or not…

None of it mattered.

This wasn’t something he could simply move on from.

It was why he accepted it. Replaced it with the present.

But unfortunately, with all of it taken away, only this was left.

Only the past… only the memories.

And yes, only… because the other parts of him?

They were hollow.

These hands of dark had scooped most of him out and left just enough to hold the shell.

Malik wasn’t a man, a guardian, a Seeker, a Magi, a Nadhir, a Jinn, a damn pillar of faith anymore.

Not really.

He’d burned.

Killed too many.

Buried too much of himself under corpses and blood and Aether.

His Essence was hidden under a mountain of weight.

It turned parts of him into something entirely different.

But these men, these women, and these children stayed.

They cared not for his change.

Even when he opened his eyes, and scared them half to death.

Even when he bled through the blankets and didn’t blink for days.

They stayed.

Banu Sasan repaid their debts. Always.

And this debt was the biggest they ever incurred.

Gaining the protection of a Lord wasn’t something one could buy.

It wasn’t just a “coin or two,” as Khamal had asked; no, it was something far better.

Something too priceless.

Something many would die for, as nonsensical as that sounded.

Zayna was one of those people.

And perhaps Malik had scared her the most.

Not because of his demeanor or anything of the like, but because…

He was too gentle with her.

A Lord treating her with such care shook her up quite a bit.

She didn’t talk to him at first. Just stood at the edge of the camp surrounding him. Watching.

Like he was an Aether core that hadn’t finished whining.

Then one night, Malik felt her drop beside him.

“You’re not allowed to die.”

Her voice shook.

“Not after all this.”

“…”

Silence.

“You hear me, Lord? Don’t you dare.”

Malik wanted to tell her she was loud.

That he was tired and that she wasn’t one to tell him what to do or not do.

But all he did was bleed on the red sand. Unable to do a single thing.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to.

Sinbad, ever close, waved her away.

And sure enough, she stepped back, leaving them be.

Still, even then, Malik wasn’t left with his little brother.

Just beside Sinbad was the giant hourglass.

It didn’t appear like a vision or a dream.

It was just… there.

Floating above his dying body.

Entirely black. Massive enough to blot out the Shams.

The glass shimmered like it was holding stars. But the grains inside were far from gold.

They were black. Thick as ink.

And they were falling.

…Upwards.

All this time, he’d been watching it.

The grains moved slowly at first.

Then faster.

Each grain hit the top like a hammer in his chest.

He deeply felt them.

Each one a memory. Each one a regret. Each one a piece of something he’d buried long ago.

Children. Villages. Names he never learned. People he failed. People he killed.

Every sin, every shadow, every stain.

Corruption.

Once, the hourglass was full.

And now… it was almost empty.

Sinbad noticed it too.

Not the glass itself, but Malik, his current state…

His end.

Hoot.

He leaned in close.

Pressed the tip of his beak to Malik’s chest.

And tears dropped from his pink eyes.

Zayna’s own widened.

She fell, her hands reaching out to her Lord.

“…H-H-He’s cold.”

“No!”

Kabir choked up.

“No, he’s still—he has to be—”

Someone sobbed.

One of the priests fell to their knees.

Many fell alongside him. Crying out for their Lord.

Malik heard people whispering his name, calling for him. Over and over. Like they thought if they said it enough, it’d stick. It’d stick him to this land. This world. This realm.

In moments, the final grains of the hourglass ’dropped.’

Thump…

“Please—don’t leave us!”

Thump…

“Say something, Lord!”

Thump…

“My Lord—wake up!”

Thump…

“You have to wake up!”

Thump…

“O Lord… don’t go.”

Thump…

“Don’t leave us in this cursed place.”

Thump…

“L-Lord Malik… y-you saved my child. P-please—”

Thump…

“Don’t die.”

Thump…

“Come back.”

Thump…

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Thump…

“MY LORD!”

Thump…

“PLEASE!”

The last one hit.

And everything inside him just…

“…”

Let go.

No pain.

No glory.

No light.

A world reset.

An owl flew.

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