Chapter 346: Brothers Of Revolution

Words : 1398 Updated : Oct 7th, 2025

Chapter 346: Brothers Of Revolution *** {Outside The Projection} Sinbad stared unblinkingly at the projection. Tears slowly escaped his eyes without him noticing. There was no sobbing or shaking, just tears, heavy, heavy tears. Dunya buried her face deeper into his fluff, holding onto him, scared that the world might take him back. She was crying too. Neither of them said anything. No one did. Not even the loud ones in the hall. Not even the ones who usually had some dumb shit to say. They were all just frozen. Because how do you react to that? What do you even say? He brought him back. Malik brought back a boy who had no right coming back. Huda smiled bitterly. Layla didn’t move. Safira sighed in relief, as did Duban and Faqir. Azeem simply nodded his head. Noor didn’t react, still caught in her hate. Caught in her fear, which dominated that hate. And Zafar kept his head lowered. Because as the glow of the exchange faded from the projection... All that remained was that image. Malik kneeling. Trying to smile. Before a black owl. Sinbad—alive. Truly alive. No illusion. Alive. Malik... was truly a man of wonder. One beyond any other. *** {Inside The Projection} The sky above was quiet, a night draped over the kingdom. Malik stood high atop the hill, next to a pole no longer holding up a head. And on his shoulder— "Careful." Was Sinbad. "Don’t break again." His little brother. "I was dead just a few minutes ago..." The owl chuckled softly. "Forgive me if I’m a little fragile." "You’ve always been fragile." Sinbad sighed. "’Tis fair." A beat of silence passed. "...You are, without question, a madman. You ought to be well aware of that." Malik’s barely functioning attempt at a smile returned. He had yet to cry; perhaps that was impossible for him now. But that didn’t matter; everything was fine as long as he had him. As long as he had him... his world could function, and he could move on. Malik could live... at least until his day came... the day of the hourglass. "Elder Brother... will you now, at last, enlighten me as to what in the world you have done?" Malik looked down at the kingdom, tired. "Nothing." Sinbad laughed. NOT a happy laugh. "I am no fool. I can see it written in the spell. You... you slaughtered thousands merely to bring me back?" "No." That made Sinbad pause. "I didn’t kill them... at least not most of them. War did." Malik’s eyes scanned the kingdom. "I just made sure their deaths meant something." Sinbad stared at him, stunned. "You made a reverse sacrifice." Malik said nothing. "You used Rehan’s spell, reversed it, and brought me back." Still silence. Sinbad sank into his shoulder, covering his fluffy face. "Pray, how long did this madness of yours take... you utter lunatic?" Malik’s lips stretched a little more. "...What do you still talk like that? Shouldn’t you have returned to... normal by now?" Sinbad pushed himself up and pecked at his neck. "Mine soul and your pet were once entwined, though no longer so. And yet even now, with that small, gentle one gone, resting in Heaven, he has indelibly shaped what I am. The very fabric of my soul has become... owl-like. And I cherish it as such. I cannot imagine myself as anything else. Whether this is the will of my soul or mere choice matters little to me; I see no reason to alter it." Malik slowly nodded his head. "I see." "No, you do not." Sinbad pecked him again. "Now, do not stray from the matter—speak. Answer me." Malik let out a barely heard sigh. "...Fifteen years." Sinbad’s eyes widened. "I have been gone... fifteen years? What has my avian self wrought in that time?" "..." Malik gave no reply. "...Oh no. Have I... no..." "..." "..." "..." "..." "..." Minutes passed in relative silence as Sinbad wallowed in self-pity. Meanwhile, below them, the kingdom could be seen to have returned to life. Well, as much life as it could in its current circumstances. The Silent Crescent banners fluttered where they’d been draped. Citizens walked the streets, some cleaning and some dragging away the last pieces of the rubble. The Day of Light celebrations had ended in panic and politics, but the smoke had cleared. The rebels had won. The tyrants were gone. People were drunk on freedom, cheering in alleyways, crying in temples, and kissing strangers in the middle of rubble. Fires still burned here and there, probably a result of a few arsonists that saw their chance, but nobody really cared. It felt like hope. At least to them. Rebuilding had begun. People believed it was theirs. Their kingdom now. Their voice. Their new chance. And it was. Technically. Sinbad raised his head, joining Malik in his staring as he squinted down at the flickering fires and makeshift camps forming in the many districts. "Elder Brother... You have done astonishingly well here." He glanced sideways. "You do realize you could claim the throne this very moment, if you so wished." Malik shook his head. "I melted it." Sinbad gave a breath of a laugh. "Right." Another pause, though this one was short. "So... you have chosen the Eastern method of governance. Power granted by vote, elevating one not by birthright, but by the will of the people. Or perhaps... you are imitating what you once witnessed in the slums of Zawaya. They, too, held to a kind of vote, did they not? Even so... you do understand, do you not? You could claim anything you desire now. This land... it is yours. All know it. And truth be told, most likely wish it to be." At that, Malik leaned his head right a little, smothering the bird. He didn’t need to speak to get the message across. "Stop trying to tempt me into being king; I don’t want the throne!" And Sinbad hooted out his surrender. "Very well, very well, I shall speak of it no further." Malik craned his neck back. Whether he denied it or not, the truth was— Malik was the kingdom. He didn’t hold a title. But he ruled. And if he ever decided to take it all back, if he raised one finger, whispered one command— Whoever and whatever group took his place would immediately fall apart. He was the kingdom’s soul, its spine. Without him, it’d most likely be taken over by now. They needed him more than he ever needed them. And no one—not the corrupt nobles who survived, not the snake-worshipers now crawling back—none of them would or could make a move without his permission. They just didn’t know it yet. But, oh, he owned them. Every grain of rice. Every law that passed. Every soul that breathed. He’d etched his name into the bones of everything in this place. Malik was their king in all but name and title. "...It’s mine." Slowly, he lifted his hand and held it out above the kingdom like he was feeling for rain. Power pulsed from his palm, a power he was unfamiliar with. A Path. His Path. He was crossing to the next stage. The next Major Divine Rank. It wasn’t from training or fighting, though that helped, but from choice, conviction, and application. Through this war, he had embodied a king. A king of his own mind and making. In both definition and action. A different one, unfamiliar, yet a king nevertheless. It was the embodiment of who he was and what he’d become. And without him knowing, it had allowed him to pass some unseen threshold... Blow straight through the physical and metaphysical barrier. Malik felt it now, like a second spine had formed down his back. He didn’t need a single soul to agree with that. It was a fact only he needed to believe. Something that was solely his own. "You..." Sinbad tilted his head, staring. "...You really don’t regret it?" "No." "No hesitation?" "No." Sinbad shook his little head, his eyes smiling. "You have changed, Elder Brother." Malik didn’t argue or nod his head. He just sat there, looking down at his kingdom. His quiet, obedient, unknowingly shackled kingdom. And let the night stretch around him. Until a few heavy words were spoken: "So tell me..." And two pink eyes glowed. "Elder Brother, who are you now?"

Chapter 346: Brothers Of Revolution

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