***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik stood in the center of the kingdom, sowhere deep underground.
Very deep beneath the royal palace, down in an old chamber, forgotten even by the nobles who claid to rule.
His feet were planted near the heart of a spell...
One spiraling out with threads that branched across the entire chamber and beyond it.
Runes, arcs, and lines, so so detailed they looked carved by God.
A drawing.
No—a system.
A contraption of soulcraft.
One that spanned the entire kingdom.
Out through tunnels, through old sewer lines, through ruined aqueducts, up foundations, and out into the street above. Under houses, ruins, and even the Academy rubble.
It was everywhere.
A massive, interconnected rune formation.
A kingdom-scale ability, weaved together with exacting precision.
It reached the twelve pillars of fire, the sa pillars that had once erupted into the sky and trapped every living thing within the kingdom.
Everyone thought it was for battle strategy, to keep the nobles trapped, the soldiers from fleeing, and the guilty from running.
But, like most things he did, that wasn’t the only purpose.
No... the do’s true purpose had always been this.
To act as a net.
A soul trap.
A web made to catch every rising soul.
Soldier, rebel, noble, beggar.
Innocent or guilty, death hadn’t let them go, and he didn’t either.
They were all still here, floating and waiting.
Malik stood before them all...
And he didn’t look away.
This was torturing them, evident by the whispers that began to curl in from the corners of the room, more than a thousand souls without peace.
"Help —"
"Where am I?"
"Why can’t I—"
"Please—please, my daughter... where is she...?"
"Is this a dream...? I... I was just... I was just in bed..."
"It hurts... why does it still hurt...?"
"I wasn’t supposed to die... I wasn’t ready—"
"You lied to us—he lied to us—"
"Is my son here? Has he co looking? He wouldn’t leave —he wouldn’t—"
"No light... no light at all..."
"I ran—I ran—why didn’t I make it—"
"My bones... God, my bones—"
"Let out—let out—"
"You promised us rcy—"
"I was innocent! I was—I swear it—!"
"Mother...? Mother, I’m scared..."
"Where is the sky?"
"They used us... they used all of us..."
"I was supposed to be buried with my na—"
"I saw him... I saw him tear the world open—"
"Why are we still here?"
"It’s cold... colder than death—"
"Does anyone hear ...? Anyone?"
"My blood... I can still feel it dripping down my arm—"
"This isn’t the end... is it?"
"I was just a cook, I never held a sword, I never even left the kitchens—"
"We were told to line up... and then... and then..."
"Tell my wife I never ant to leave her—"
"There’s no ti here... no breath... no sleep..."
"I see his face. I see it every ti I close my eyes."
"Bring back—bring back—"
"I begged for rcy—I begged—"
"Who did this to us? Who? WHO?"
"My children... tell them I love them, please..."
"I can’t scream anymore. My throat is gone."
"I walked the streets again... no one saw ."
"He’s still watching us."
"Every ti I try to forget, I wake up in the sa burning room—"
"Let see the Sun... just once more. Please."
"He kept us here... he kept us here..."
"He said it was for a reason. He said—"
"Does he even rember our nas?"
Malik didn’t answer.
Thousands of pleas echoed within, yet he remained unfazed.
And instead of bothering with them all, he knelt, welcoming a particular soul.
This soul ca before him and it... bowed?
It wasn’t all that easy to understand a white orb’s actions, but he managed.
He had to; this soul wasn’t just anyone’s, it belonged to Samir.
Only he would bow after death claid him.
And Malik was beyond grateful for him.
He leaned forward, and the soul did too.
Orb and forehead pressed against each other.
One trembled, perhaps in gratification, while another paled a little.
Malik took a breath and then calmly turned to a man who stood behind him, silencing the souls.
"Let this one go... he deserves rest."
The man, a Kahin of theirs, tilted his head.
"Are you sure, my Lord? This soul is a heavy one."
"Yes. The king and snake are more than enough to pick up the slack."
Malik looked back at the soul, and the Kahin imdiately did as he was told.
Threads latched onto it, then its chains ca into light and broke, dissolving into the spell.
The soul flew up, waving its Lord a final goodbye.
"Hm."
With that, Malik touched the glyph beneath him with his whole hand.
Aether flared, crackling outward from his palm.
Thump, thump, thump, a beating heart.
VMMMMMMMMM—
The catacombs trembled, and dust fell from the ceiling.
The souls howled, and the chamber’s floor pulsed, its runes twisting and coiling.
Seeing it, Malik’s eyes fell a little.
This reminded him of a mory, and of course it did.
It was a mory he couldn’t forget even if he wanted to, which he never would
Rehan’s last stand.
His {Equivalent Exchange.}
The original was ant to be a sacrifice.
One soul, alongside many, for thousands of enemies.
But this...
This was sothing else.
A taking.
A reversed martyrdom.
A ritual that demanded no weaver’s soul, only the souls of others.
Hundreds. More. To bring back just one.
Yes, all for one na.
One soul.
"Sinbad."
***
{Outside The Projection}
So that was the main reason why...
They knew it!
Malik would have never done all of this for just revenge.
He didn’t simply assassinate the king because he wanted souls.
Their Sultan wanted death and destruction.
And the best way to get that?
It was war.
A war that shook the kingdom.
A war that forever changed the world.
One that made him out to be the Villain, fulfilling a promise.
"I... I see."
Sinbad stared at the projection with trembling eyes.
...So that was how he, the "little owl," got ho, huh?
It wasn’t a surprise.
Sinbad knew of souls, and the only way for him to have returned was Equivalent Exchange.
Souls couldn’t be... fixed otherwise. Sothing had to give for another to be taken.
And besides, he knew that Malik couldn’t have spent fifteen years in Nourzadah for nothing.
Did the world really think he needed fifteen years to learn and upgrade a few Abilities? Prepare himself for ascension? Did the world think he needed fifteen years to plan the downfall of a kingdom? No.
That ti was mostly spent with him reverse engineering the spell he so incredibly loathed, translating much of the Pathing into runes with the help of his Kahins, deeply studying the very spell that took away a father, and would now bring back his little brother...
Him.
Sinbad.
Oh... the irony.
***
{Inside The Projection}
Oh, the damn irony.
Standing up, Malik glanced to his right.
Kabir stood there, his face more than tense.
Next to him stood another Kahin, awaiting her Lord’s command.
"Are we ready for the main section?"
Malik’s question ca out flat.
The Kahin nodded once and gestured for the other to co along.
Kabir exhaled, eyes narrowing, but he didn’t object.
He’d tried to, once.
A few nights ago, calling it a moral issue and whatnot, but Malik never cared to listen.
This was Sinbad, and Sinbad deserved not thousands but the entire world; nothing would stop him from doing this.
So now, poor Kabir just stood and watched, jaw clenched so tight one could see it from a mile away.
This spell went against everything he stood for, but, of course, he’d never oppose his Lord.
Reaching another chamber, Malik stepped towards the center, where the main runic circle sat, a perfect, etched spiral of death and sacrifice.
At its center was a black owl.
Black. Once Crimson. Sinbad’s ho.
A bird that was seen by many as a ssenger between worlds, a symbol of death and return, was now used both literally and taphorically by Malik.
Indeed, the irony continued... perhaps it’d never end.
The owl looked up as his owner approached.
His eyes smiled at him, happy, even as his little bird soul was about to be devoured.
Malik stared down at the bird, a bittersweet smile trying to make it on his face.
He knelt a second ti, knees before his cute pet.
"Fly, little owl..."
His right hand reached out, petting him.
"I hope your broken wings can carry you ho."
Black let out the faintest hoot, barely there.
"Fly, little owl..."
He closed his eyes.
"I hope your broken wings can carry you to ."
His Aether erupted in the owl.
The link between their souls was pulled.
Malik’s mories, his entire being, trembled.
And everything—everything—exploded into gold.
Then white.
Then red.
The chamber pulsed brighter and brighter with every passing second.
Stale air scread, and the runes around them ignited, leading outside to the entire kingdom, where all twelve rune traps aboveground pulsed so hard they shot lightning across the sky.
People stumbled as the weight of the spell hit them.
The ground roughly shook and cracked, destroying streets and buildings.
Kabir took a step back instinctively while the Kahins muttered a protective ward, shielding their eyes from the surge.
And at the center of it all, Malik stayed kneeling.
His eyes remained shut, right hand on the owl’s head.
The spell began drinking the suspended souls, more than a thousand of them.
Souls that scread as they were torn from their afterlife.
They twisted into the air and shot downward.
Into the spell.
Into the owl.
And into Malik.
For a mont, his eyes flashed white.
He whispered words too fast to be understood.
All of his Aether left him at once, sucked up by the spell.
Just like it was supposed to.
Just like Rehan had once done.
But this ti, it wasn’t for death.
It was for life.
Dizzy, Malik nearly collapsed forward, barely catching himself with one hand.
His breathing slowed, his core not pulling anymore.
The spell had reached its final rune.
There was a heartbeat of silence.
Then—
THUMP.
A thunderous spark of Aether.
Right where the owl stood, a crack appeared in the air.
A crack in the very fabric of the world.
It left as soon as it ca.
With it was a soul.
A soul that returned to its ho, pulled by a string.
And another left through it, bidding goodbye to its owner on its way out.
The world flashed bright once more, montarily blinding him.
It ceased after a long mont, and with it ca—
"M-Malik?"
A na.
It rose softly from the center of the spell.
It wasn’t loud; rather, it was barely audible.
But Malik opened his eyes at once.
Because he knew that voice.
Although it wasn’t how he was usually called by that voice, he imdiately knew who it belonged to... the one he most loved in this world.
His little brother.
Sinbad.
He’d done it.
...Sinbad was back.
He had returned ho.
To him.
The runes dimd completely.
The souls... were gone, spent...
Freed.
The world could hate him for it later.
But for now... the sacrifice was paid.
And the reward was taken.
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