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{Inside The Projection}
"Fine then."
Sinbad turned to face the hall and waddled around a little, trying to find himself a comfortable spot on Malik's lap before lowering himself to finally relax.
"I will do as you like... as I always do. But what of after you? If you carve yourself into the world's mory and step down into whatever silence you intend, sobody must stand where you stood. Soone must be the face the people aim at and the shoulders the rest may cling to. That is to say... who will be the next Sultan?"
Malik's head tilted the barest fraction.
He continued to stare at the still hall before them.
His eyes alone had said more than most speeches ever could.
His quiet remained, until eventually, he realized that he actually needed to utter what was said by his gold.
"There's no one."
The words ca out flat.
"No one worthy. I thought perhaps Zafar might rise to it. He has hunger; hunger is sothing. But hunger without temper is reckless. I only grew continuously disappointed with his antics... his progress isn't much to talk about either."
Sinbad ruffled his feathers.
"Right. Zafar… he has fire, but fire by itself will burn the very things you wish to protect. He's a boy wearing a mantle too soon. You watched him."
"I did."
Malik murmured.
"I watched, waited, and tried to shape him. He reverts to old habits when the heat cos. He doesn't learn to stand in storms similar to what you and I share. I can't pass this burden to him. It'll break him."
Sinbad's beak tapped a thoughtful rhythm.
"Then I will be blunt, Elder Brother. Should I take it? I would. I could be the steward. I have patience and a mory the likes of which most mortals would find cruel. If you need soone unbending and steady… allow ."
Malik laughed, both humorless and tired.
"I won't allow that. You're far too precious for the Golden Throne. Besides, you're a tongue and a heart that knows too many small cruelties to ever be head of a kingdom. If I bound you to the crown, you'd wither worse than I did. I won't trap you. I can't chain you to the sa rot that ate , even if it'd be a warr throne after I'm gone."
Sinbad blinked, barely focusing on his words after hearing that first sentence.
"Precious..." yes, though he felt nearly none of that lately, he was precious to his Elder Brother; rather, he was "far too precious."
His position in Malik's heart was far above Azeem's.
The cute little owl almost went on a long mind trip alone with that.
But before Malik could notice his state, Sinbad quickly shook his cute little head.
"Then... perhaps one of mine could. My brood. Though they are long in age, they're still young ones; mischief remains, but also a spine stronger than most. I'm sure you've had a... few live examples of that. If you insist the mantle cannot rest on a human heart without tearing, give it to a child who grew in our care, raised under my wing. I'm sure they could wear it and remain strong."
Malik's expression flickered.
A mory popped up of a dozen little owls—Sinbad's brood—reading scrolls, drawing maps, and writing books, behaving no differently than actual judges, so even wearing tiny monocles like their father did.
"You... you propose an owl as Sultan."
It was an absurd and sohow not impossible proposition. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs ɴovᴇl_Firᴇ.ɴet
"We are no re owls, Elder Brother."
Sinbad puffed his chest, offended in an imdiately adorable way.
"We are Uluka. Crimson Owls, we bless n with our presence."
He wiggled his tail, barely able to hold himself back from laughing.
"You said you wanted broad shoulders; well, I've bred a dozen."
Malik slowly shook his head, his eyes looking softly at his little brother.
"No. I won't hand over tragedy to your children. You know how the little ones are as precious to you as they are to ... I won't have them be hard."
"You refuse even that..."
Sinbad sighed once more, a slight wounded quiver in his voice.
"Even that, Elder Brother?"
Malik nodded at him.
"Yes. I won't let you be another casualty of my design."
Sinbad's feathers shivered as he studied Malik for a long ti.
In that study, there was an odd tenderness, perhaps a satisfied one.
"Then... are you saying we must find a human? Soone who can be forged in the fires we engineer but carry a softness we can't? If Zafar fails your criteria, and I cannot be bound, and my brood would be a mockery of freedom, perhaps the next ruler should be soone unexpected—a child shaped by circumstance."
Malik had interest ease onto his features.
"You an… from among the beggars."
Sinbad's eyes curved into a smile.
"Exactly. A person who rembers hunger and kindness alike, who has seen both a cave and a palace. Soone whose loyalty isn't born of lineage like the rest but of will. They can learn our laws, and their heart will still be human."
Malik considered the idea.
He thought of the children in the marketplaces stealing coins from pockets, the beggar boys being the only ones who had dared to look at him in the face. He thought of Amal and the world he wanted her to live in—one less dependent on monsters wearing crowns.
"If I am to shape that future... then my successor must be soone who will grow in a way I cannot. Walk a Path I cannot."
Sinbad nodded, the little scholar pleased.
"Good. I have just the boy."
Malik allowed himself a tired smile.
"It looks like you read like a book, little brother."
"Yes, I'd been preparing such a kid, among many, for a long ti now."
Malik raised a brow at that.
"It seems you've been busy doing things I don't know about."
Sinbad hooted out a soft chuckle, while his eyes showed his sorrow.
"You... you don't know the half of it, Elder Brother."
"Hm..."
Malik's gaze eased.
"Tell their na."
Sinbad flapped his wings.
"Aladdin!"
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