Novel Full Chapter 450: Nightmares
***
{Outside The Projection}
Huh…
Scheherezade was actually in love with him.
How in the seven Hells did they get here?
A tragedy had suddenly turned into a confession scene.
Her gush landed louder than anyone expected.
It was way, way past flirting.
The hall nearly felt embarrassed for her.
Mostly, though, the crowd felt this weird, guilty pleasure.
This… this was the leader of an entire empire confessing to someone who should be her main enemy like a naive little girl, calling him a glorious, terrifying hunk.
It was something that she, unsurprisingly, didn’t at all seem embarrassed about.
Rather, judging by the look on her face, she took pride in what she did.
Especially of the words in that twisted confession of hers.
Yet, she wasn’t happy, for she knew what was coming next…
And oh, it certainly wasn’t going to be pretty.
***
{Inside The Projection}
“…So you actually love me?”
Malik watched her without even a flicker of vanity.
Only appraisal was apparent in his actions.
“I do.”
Scheherezade nodded her beautiful head.
“…Hm.”
His eyes widened slightly in the strange gravity of actually believing her.
“I won’t leave my wife or make her a second.”
Scheherazade tilted her head in mock disbelief.
“Really? She’s too ugly for you; she hasn’t even tried to understand you. Besides, a Hex Blo—”
“SHE IS MY WIFE.”
His words slammed like thunder, stunning her.
“…How dare you speak of her in such a way? Who are you to even say that?”
He stood from the throne, though so very slowly.
“Do you know who I am, you mutt?”
He descended the dais, step after heavy step.
“Do you know what I’ve done?”
Before her now, close enough that her breath stumbled.
“What impossibilities I have achieved?”
His right hand reached forth and closed around her throat.
“Do you truly think YOU are worthy of me?”
His grip tightened, making her face strained.
“I am an Al-Assad. We are LIONS. Do you know why we are called such? Because even the True Sultan himself recognized us as more. ‘He’ knew us to be special. I was upon Al-Saif at no more than thirteen. THIRTEEN. That year, I slew a Roc. Then an entire army of bandits fell beneath me. Twenty years later, I became a Jinn. Breaking even the Sun’s RECORD. I led a war—and I WON. I marched North and CRUSHED a most hated man, winning a great victory. I returned South and razed the Academy, killing its KING. That very night, I became Mithqal, after enduring millions of years of HELL. And when I returned, I faced Cyrus… I KILLED the Former Sultan. Without a break, I then cast myself again into the pit, and, after the unfathomable, I CUT the roots of CORRUPTION itself.”
His words burned into her.
“So tell me…”
His pressure flared.
“Do you truly think you are worthy of me?”
“…”
She offered no reply, only stared at him.
“Better.”
He casually flung her aside.
“You dare speak of her actions? Call her as such? Your life would’ve been forfeited if not for our relationship.”
She, before even hitting the stone, rolled and landed on her feet with elegance.
“I may have gone too far…”
With Malik watching her every move, she calmly smoothed her dress.
“I apologize. But are you so certain about that last part? You’re not in your best shape. No matter how well you pretend.”
Malik’s golden eyes ignited, two Suns in his skull.
“My plan would be ruined, yes. But know this…”
He stepped toward her once more.
“You would die. And for me… that alone might be enough.”
Quickly, she stepped back, her hands lifting in a playful surrender.
“Okay, okay. A lady must try her luck, yes?”
She laughed, a sound that filled the empty corners with warmth.
“I had to see. Curiosity, darling.”
Her expression softened after that.
“…I’ll mourn you, then.”
Scheherazade could be cruel, but she could also be oddly tender.
“If you must be a martyr, I’ll be there to watch your final moments.”
She nodded as if she understood a difficult, honored thing.
And Malik nodded back, silently thanking her.
***
{Outside The Projection}
That was… rough, but it was Scheherezade, so they didn’t mind it all that much.
Rather, the world would’ve thought Malik was bragging if they didn’t know him so well.
Yes, Malik had done those things, but he didn’t care for them.
He only cared to show the difference between them.
To show just how unworthy she was of him.
And how only Layla…
How only she was worthy.
‘Just don’t kill yourself after this.’
Yeah, now she knew why Scheherazade said that.
Layla, for the tenth time, was wrong.
Malik’s love had remained.
Even then… even two hundred years into a failed marriage.
The Sultan still loved her, perhaps as much as the first day.
She… she had abandoned someone who loved her.
And that… that simple difference alone…
It made the hurt so, so much worse.
This time, it was she who needed support.
Her body could no longer function.
Thankfully, Huda held her close…
And her warmth was enough.
Enough to keep Layla alive.
***
{Inside The Projection}
With a flourish, Scheherezade tossed something at him.
A small mirror wrapped in a scrap of embroidered cloth.
Malik caught it while looking at her.
“Consider this a parting gift.”
She disappeared, staring at him as she did so.
Her eyes couldn’t hide the sadness in those moments.
Fortunately for her, Malik didn’t see them as he had held the mirror up.
His own face looked back at him, framed in tiny gold.
He looked… pale, incredibly so, and much thinner than he remembered.
The skin under his eyes was dark and deep, the lines seemingly permanent.
It was a face that told a story of a man who was barely alive, using up his final embers.
The gold in his eyes wasn’t doing well either. Once, it had been fierce and alive; now it looked dim and tired, even when it brightened, as if someone had turned down the light on it.
Worse yet, some of the gold wasn’t just lost but replaced by a normal black.
He studied himself in the mirror until the edges of the hall began to blur.
Only the mirror remained, taking center stage of everything.
Doubts that had nowhere else to go began to crowd his skull.
A chorus answered them in a voice that felt like his.
What can I say to you?
All that it meant…
All that it did not.
God of Gold.
Of blood.
Of fire.
Suffering.
Destruction.
Hope.
YOU.
You… lost nearly everything.
Everyone. There is no forgiving you.
You chose this path…
I chose.
They won’t forgive me if I back out now.
This is my end.
Do not doubt it.
He nodded to his voice and gently put the mirror down.
Seconds later, Malik realized just what Scheherezade had given him.
Yes, it was a simple mirror, but it was the final straw…
The one that finally broke the steed’s back.
He wasn’t alone anymore.
A small figure stood in the corner.
It was a little girl, nine, maybe—a little older than a child.
Purple hair fell in soft waves, while golden eyes watched him.
They held a seriousness that was too old for someone her age.
The sight of her made something ache in him that he hadn’t admitted to in a very long time.
There was no questioning it.
She was Amal.
His beautiful little angel…
His daughter, his hope.
Malik felt… warmth in his chest.
It was the shape of future mornings he had written poems about, only to burn.
But that didn’t remain as she stepped forward, nearing him with a soft smile.
“Are you ever afraid, Father?”
He paused…
“No.”
Only to answer the same way he had been answering for all of time.
The thing inside him was not bravery but resignation.
He COULDN’T be afraid.
“I am more tired than afraid.”
His Hope’s eyes flicked up at him.
“Tired?”
“Yes… so very tired.”
She tilted her cute little head.
“When was the last time you slept, Father?”
His mind slid to an old memory.
“The day… the day I killed a king.”
Her tiny mouth folded.
“Wasn’t that more than two hundred years ago?”
He managed a smile, an impression rather than a feeling.
“Yes… and it seems I’ve avoided nightmares for so long that finally…”
Her golden eyes bled into black without warning.
It was almost as if a shadow had crawled over Shamslight.
Veins, thin and ink-dark, webbed up from the corner of blacks onto her temples.
The child’s face seemed to grow many tens of years at once.
Every horrifying change carried calamity.
“Finally, they’ve come to haunt me here.”
Her skin was marred with crawling black lines.
“OH, WE HAVE.”
Her voice was both hers and many voices folded into one.
“…I don’t have much longer.”
Amal reached forward and squeezed his hand.
“LET US BE TOGETHER, FATHER.”
His hourglass was nearly full.
“SHH… YOU DON’T HAVE TO FIGHT ANYMORE.”
The Fall was upon him.
“JUST LET GO, FATHER… LET US HOLD YOU.”
His worst nightmare.
“YOU’VE CARRIED US LONG ENOUGH.”
His only nightmare.
“WE’LL NEVER LEAVE YOUR SIDE AGAIN, SO…”
What he escaped all this time.
“SLEEP NOW; YOU’RE HOME.”
IT had come to torture him.