Novel Full Chapter 445: Fight—
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{Outside The Projection}
The conversation between those two…
It was incredible.
They really couldn’t say much else.
Malik, their Sultan, knew exactly who he was.
What he wanted and needed.
“It has to be me.”
The hall felt smaller with those words.
It was as if every person there had been pinched inward toward a single point.
Yeah, he wanted to be the martyr.
Death was what he wanted.
What he saw he needed.
His long-awaited “break.”
His death would complete his Silent Requiem.
Now, from that vague snippet, they understood more about it.
Malik’s death would end his Silent Requiem and would “bring them back.”
The ‘them’ here—they didn’t quite understand who it was, nor did they understand where they’d be brought back to. Would it be here, the Holy City? Or to Fam Iblis as a whole?
The world, as well as the hall, with a few fluffy exceptions, had no idea.
Azeem, however?
He understood.
His face went very still.
One could see the gears catch in him, clicking together.
Two centuries of grief and obedience folding into a ‘perfect sense.’
Every burned village, numbered cave, and thing he’d justified in the name of duty slid into a new order. A warm order. In it, one could see Malik claiming that he loved Azeem, which brought him near infinite happiness.
And, other than that, it felt truly incredible, every doubt he had beginning to clear up.
Even the suspicions he had brewing in these past nine days had all come clear.
Because yes, all of it had led to this.
This volume had him as one of its main characters.
Anyone else would have cried out by now, bringing attention to them.
Yet, even now, he didn’t dare steal his Lord’s thunder, staying quiet while looking down.
His mind was far from quiet, however, just going over those words again and again.
And what words they were, huh?
Words that Sinbad despised hearing again.
Words that Dunya despised further.
“I have nothing else.
“No one can really understand me…”
“I’m alone because I’ve lived through the cost.”
“And if I am the villain, let the villain be obvious.”
“I’m not after a lighter burden; no, I only ask for broader shoulders.”
“When the day comes… sing something other than grief.”
Oh, did that last one hurt.
Grief… that, they knew all their lives…
At least in death, he wanted something else.
Malik… their Sultan wanted his death to be celebrated.
Perhaps for that same poet to come along, or her child, as she was likely long since dead by now.
Sinbad and Malik loved each other very much, but…
So very unfortunately for both, Sinbad wasn’t enough to keep Malik’s mind in check.
Layla wasn’t there, Amal had left, and, as much as she hated it, Dunya wasn’t enough as well.
Malik had undoubtedly felt alone.
Even though he had more than three hundred and thirteen people loving him, he still felt so depressingly alone, having killed the only one who understood him, the Former Sultan, Cyrus.
And yes, as hard as it was to admit it, both Sinbad and Dunya accepted it.
They could not relate to Malik’s words; of course they couldn’t.
“I might be their guardian, their Sultan, but I am nothing more than a miserable génocidaire who barely stands against his own madness and Corruption. I need others to be there to carry my torch… otherwise I’m afraid I’d finally Fall.”
That wasn’t something they knew.
Sinbad and Dunya despised that…
And they weren’t the only ones.
Layla despised it just as much, maybe more.
After all, unlike them, she wasn’t even in the picture.
Rather, she was part of the problem.
And that, again, made her feel sadness so incredible…
She, like in Noor’s moment earlier, wanted to dig a hole deep underground and hide in it.
Layla loved Malik enough to understand sacrifice; she hated his method enough to want to lose what remained of herself, and to make this worse, further guilt was mixed in as her child was bound into this terrible bargain.
Her cheeks wet, she held Huda’s hand so tight it hurt.
Yet, Huda didn’t seem to feel that hurt, lost in the pain of her own.
If Layla felt worse than those two… then what about her?
Just what kind of pain did she feel?
How torn was her heart?
Oh…
Her body lost function.
She was forced to lean on Layla to stand.
Her legs kept shaking, barely there.
…What had she done?
Yes, she’d already processed her betrayal.
She accepted what she did and tried so hard to… ‘make up’ for it.
Even though it’d be a fraction, that fraction felt like an entire world.
And yet now… now seeing him there, listening to his words.
It made what she did impossibly worse.
Malik had reached a point beyond what she thought possible.
His life… he didn’t believe it held any worth; only this goal did.
Only his Silent Requiem.
Redemption…
Roya wasn’t allowed that because she failed Malik’s test, but…
Did she?
Did Huda, the little sister who joined the Heroic Coalition?
The one Hell-bent on killing her own BROTHER?
No… no, she didn’t.
Huda genuinely believed that.
If Scheherazade walked over and killed her right this moment, she wouldn’t fault her.
Rather, she would celebrate her own death… for that was all she now deserved.
But, unfortunately for her, this wasn’t something she could escape.
Not even by death.
Nor could Layla, the one currently hugging her.
Two women lost in each other’s embrace, mourning a man they oh so loved.
The rest of the hall couldn’t escape it either, or rather, the entire world, for they knew now…
A question well on all their minds had finally been answered.
The exact shape of his sacrifice was brought forth towards them…
It wasn’t a confirmed guess anymore; it was an undeniable fact that had them shaking from the implications alone.
Malik had them all misunderstand and hate him so they could unite…
And, as one, they were to prepare themselves to fight.
To fight—