***
{Inside The Projection}
Indeed, Malik stared.
But not for long.
He looked away.
This wasn’t the ti for distractions.
He didn’t co for beauty.
He didn’t co to feel anything.
He ca for revenge.
And so, ignoring all that was around him, Malik walked toward a palace.
This one, unlike the ones he visited, wasn’t the ho of nobility. It was more.
A lot more than just that. For it housed the future of this kingdom, its students.
A few guards on the road saw him, and sothing about his presence made them freeze up.
They couldn’t kneel like those before them, only freeze, because it wasn’t his power they felt.
It was his will, the one that spoke only of death.
And though they were drunk on their victory, laughing, feasting, and singing, he didn’t need to speak or do anything for them to feel his death.
His re presence was enough.
Malik’s eyes scanned everything as he walked.
The placent of guards.
The number of archers up on the roofs.
The patrols.
He morized it all.
And now that he was a fair distance away, he glanced down and behind him.
From his elevated position, he could see the bard ending her little act.
She bowed to the crowd, relishing the applause.
Children threw flowers at her.
A man handed her a rose.
As did another.
And another.
Malik tilted his head.
...Were flowers that cheap here?
He noticed them everywhere. Believed they belonged only to the nobles, but...
Apparently not.
Well, it wasn’t like this place had a shortage of them; every street was lined with flowers.
Baskets filled with colors were hung on every house or structure.
A celebration to be rembered.
One praying for his death.
Let her keep singing. Let them all dance.
Because when the Sun felled its hand, the real music would begin.
For yes, the Second Sun had risen.
And he had co here as hunger, as drought.
The echo of every scream that the kingdom buried under light.
He would burn the Academy.
Nourzadah.
That was what this palace he neared was called.
That was his next stop.
Malik knew his limits; he alone could not take down an entire kingdom.
But, if he was trusted? If he made it inside their ranks? Beca a part of them?
He could raze them down six feet deep. Show them true fear.
And so... to do that, the Academy, Nourzadah, was his destination.
He would beco a professor.
If he was going to dismantle this kingdom, it wasn’t going to be from the outside.
That was the job of his people, the Banu Sasan; his presence was better spent elsewhere.
Inside their fold, amongst their ranks, the best of their people.
And then, when he built enough, when he prepared enough...
Only then would he, a Sun, fall his hand.
But for now, he needed to make himself a ho here.
And what a ho it would be.
The Academy was its own city.
In essence, it looked like any other palace, only much bigger and more magical.
Its walls were huge and thick, ready to welco bombardnt. It had floating spires, each inscribed with runes that shimred with Aether, outputting sothing of a protection do surrounding the palace.
The closer Malik had gotten, the more fantastical things he witnessed.
Glowing books flew through the air, passing by his head. Old n and won, professors perhaps, rode on tad beasts, so with six wings, others with more. Students, apparent from the uniform they wore, which was a black coat, a simple white shirt, and trousers, hovered on carpets instead of walking, their robes fluttering.
It was all Magi-like—but with more arrogance. A lot more.
Everyone here thought they were better than each other.
And Malik walked in like he belonged.
Again, no one stopped him.
They stared instead.
That was the first thing that happened the mont Malik stepped inside the palace.
The huge arched entrance of Nourzadah—white marble cut with runes, gold-thread banners fluttering over his head, depicting religion, factions, and noble houses alike—none of it caught his eye.
But the Magi there, both student and professor?
They couldn’t stop looking.
Tip, tap! Tap.
The sound of his footsteps.
The dragging of his sheathed Spine Splitter.
It had all pulled them in and didn’t let go.
One boot after another, slow, steady, spine straight, eyes forward. Didn’t look left. Didn’t glance right. Didn’t speak when a group of laughing students went silent mid-joke and pressed themselves flat to the wall.
The silence around him got bigger with every step.
At first, it was whispers. Then it was full-on hush. Perhaps it was their instincts at play. An instinct they didn’t know they had, trying to warn them:
"That man doesn’t belong here."
And it wasn’t just that he was towering.
Or the black coat he wore looked like it had been through a hundred wars.
Or the pure white sword he leaned on as he walked, screaming things at them if they listened too hard.
It was his eyes.
Two golden Suns.
Eventually, Malik passed through a hallway lined with mirrors that didn’t show reflections.
Each one shimred with illusion. The students who passed them reflected glory, visions of themselves standing proud, future heroes of the kingdom.
None of them looked at those mirrors, making it seem like a daily occurrence.
anwhile, Malik’s mirror showed nothing but an hourglass.
The final grain fell.
It shattered.
First crack. Then a web. Then it collapsed, piece by piece, shocking everyone near.
Malik didn’t bother glancing at what remained.
He just kept walking.
Through another corridor, he t two spiral staircases that lood ahead, both carved from black stone with strings of glowing music notes dancing above the railing.
They were enchanted, no doubt.
Each step a student took played a sound, sohow forming a cohesive lody.
So of the students tried to tap out tunes, daring each other to run up and make the loudest song.
Malik paused until they all left or moved away from the stairs and went forth.
His steps didn’t sing.
They groaned.
Each one let out a hollow note.
It was reminiscent of the deep toll of a funeral bell under the ocean.
Not seeming to care, Malik climbed, moving up each floor.
The higher he went, the quieter the palace beca.
At the top of the stairs, the walls changed.
White marble faded to deep obsidian.
Runes were carved deeper.
Lights grew dim.
The hallway curved, coiled like a serpent’s spine.
And at the end of it... a door.
Massive. Made of the sa black stone.
There were no knobs. No guards. Not even any runes on it.
One might think it defenseless, but Malik knew better.
Those mirrors were better than any guard he knew.
He carefully walked toward it and paused once near.
He didn’t knock. Didn’t need to.
It opened the mont he stood before it.
The room inside was large but not gaudy. High ceilings. A desk carved from living wood that pulsed faintly with veins of light. Walls lined with runes and a fireplace with a blue fla.
And behind the desk at the far end of the room was...
"Ah. Finally."
The Chancellor.
He was thin. Almost unnaturally so.
A tall man in robes that shimred. His skin was pale, stretched tight over long bones. His fingers were wrong. Too long. The way they steepled together as he leaned forward... spiderlike.
But it was his eyes that mattered.
Slitted.
Green-gold.
A serpent pretending to be human.
"Welco, Stranger~."
He smiled as Malik entered.
Not kindly. Not mockingly either.
It was a smile that spoke of his waiting.
He didn’t rise from his chair. Only watched.
Watched Malik walk in. Watched him stop five steps from the desk. Watched him stare.
And Malik, true to form, said nothing in return.
His coat fluttered once as the door behind him closed.
That might’ve terrified so, being trapped with a man of the chancellor’s strength, but Malik saw nothing to worry about.
He looked at the Chancellor as if he were looking at prey.
And this ’prey’ didn’t quite like that, so it broke the silence:
"You’re... a bit late."
The blue fla crackled, but no heat ca from it.
Malik said nothing, and the Chancellor’s smile widened.
"Oh, don’t be shy. I know who you really are."
He leaned forward even more.
"Second Sun."
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