Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death

***

I've held on for as long as I can,

For those I swore I'd always defend.

I've stood my ground all my life,

I've carried burdens till the day of my 'end.'

If Fate would have me, let it now Fall,

My back's strong; it'll shoulder all.

Please let me go—go—go~.

If I could only lay my aching head and rest,

If there were nothing left to fight or keep,

Maybe then I might at last be 'free—'

Maybe death is like falling asleep...

But I wouldn't know...

I never rest.

...Please let me go.

We're not ready to lose you yet,

Don't go saying your goodbyes tonight.

There is a stubborn beauty in the world,

And we would see you hold the light.

We won't let you go—go—go~...

Hold on. Please don't go.

***

The Holy City had never held so many souls.

From the highest roofs to the farthest gates, every street overflowed with people.

Even under the burning Shams, they came on foot, on beasts, and in caravans from mountains, deserts, and coasts. Some limped, and some carried others on their backs. All of them—every single one—faced toward the hill where the Holy Palace once stood.

What survived destruction was the bare hill, the stairs, the dais, and the Golden Throne.

They barely had any support yet remained standing, as if the Laws themselves couldn't handle all of Malik Falling, keeping it there, tall before his grave.

It was a simple grave, a casket with no body inside.

Around that grave… were billions of voices:

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

"Here I am, O Lord!"

A chant they were taught.

It moved, swelling, falling, and rolling over the city.

People clung to each other, sobbing, while others stood with hands raised to the sky, praying to every God there was, the True Sultan, with some doing so to Malik himself.

It was the largest funeral the world had ever seen.

And again, at the center of it all lay their Sultan's grave.

It had a beautiful tombstone made with gold, its edges worn smooth by careful, loving claws.

This... this piece had been prepared long ago by Sinbad, perhaps in hope... in dread, because he had always known this day would come.

Incense burned low in brass bowls next to it.

Flowers from every kingdom lay piled high around it.

Candles guttered in the warm wind as people wept openly near its foot.

A bard, that woman's daughter, played, among many others, away from it.

Their song, a reply to every one of Malik's poems, was a somber one; it alone bringing the mourners to tears.

And, not so far away from them, Huda stood in the crowd, her family around her.

Her parents had returned with nearly all their people, trying to speak with her.

"Did you... did you truly think we wouldn't know what you were planning?"

Her father, Naeem, had his voice tight with worry.

"That you wouldn't want to be here, mourning your own brother?"

Her mother reached for her arm.

"Huda, listen..."

But she didn't.

Her eyes were locked on one figure beside the grave.

Dunya.

Malik's youngest sister.

Her nails were fully broken now, bleeding, but she didn't seem to notice, stuck lying on the ground, her arms wrapped tight around the base of the grave's tombstone.

Her attempts at wailing had never ceased, at least not until she couldn't anymore, her already dead throat giving up on her.

Her body never left where his Will remained, unable to part with it.

Dunya was the only one to have stayed there since his death.

Even as he was buried by his Shurtat al-Khamis, his broken Elite Guard.

They had to dig around her, barely stopping themselves from joining her.

Barely stopping themselves from death.

Huda felt much the same.

Without another word to her family, she stepped away with still wobbling legs, passing the slow-moving line of mourners waiting their turn to approach.

She walked straight to the grave and sat opposite Dunya.

Two sisters faced each other across the stone of their brother.

Their eyes met for one silent heartbeat...

The longest heartbeat in the world...

Before they both turned back to Malik's resting place.

"I w-w-won't apologize anymore."

A small hiccup escaped Huda's throat.

"I'm sure you've heard enough of that from me…"

"I-I'm in awe of you. I always have been..."

"But this?"

Her breath cracked.

"I still can't believe it..."

"I might never..."

"I don't want to."

Every word hurt her so very deeply.

"I don't think I'll ever process you being gone…"

She stared at the name carved into the stone.

"Don't worry. You won't be alone for long. Or…"

Her voice softened a little.

"Maybe you aren't alone."

"Maybe you're already with Jasmine."

"I... I really wish you're with her now."

A sad smile almost made it to her face.

"Either way… I'll be there with you soon."

Her gaze shifted toward Dunya, who was still trembling against the stone.

"And I'm sure I won't be the only one."

The corners of her lips lifted a little more.

"Thank you for loving me."

She leaned forward, kissed the cold stone, and pushed herself up.

"I know I don't deserve it."

But when she tried to stand, her legs finally gave out.

"Ah..."

The world spun as she began to crumple to the ground while her eyes trembled to a close, losing all bodily function.

She had fallen unconscious, the sadness too overwhelming.

"Huda!"

"Daughter!"

Her family rushed forward before she could fall, lifting her gently.

Then, all of them bowed low toward the grave before quickly carrying her away.

Dunya barely noticed them go.

She wouldn't leave this place.

Understanding that...

The first in line stepped forward.

Layla, her shoulders shaking as she approached.

Her purple eyes were swollen and bloodshot, her lips pale and trembling.

She stood for a moment in silence, looking down at the man she dearly loved.

"My love. If he doesn't come, I will search the ends of the world for our daughter… our Hope, and I will make sure she's safe. But once I do that… once I make sure she knows us—her parents—will you allow me to be selfish? Will you allow me to join you?"

She sank to her knees, pressing her forehead to the grave, and kissed the foot of the stone.

"You will never be alone again."

Her legs shook as she rose, and she'd nearly collapsed as well before a pair of older women caught her and led her away.

Safira took her place.

She stared down at the grave for a long time, her eyes unfocused.

Many thoughts went through her mind; many emotions flew by her eyes.

The poor lady couldn't think or feel; it was all too overwhelming, losing her only teacher and the love of her life. It was as if entire parts of herself were stripped away completely and forever.

Safira didn't want to live in a world without him, but...

She also couldn't kill herself.

And so, she knelt...

"You always told people not to forgive you..."

Prostrated...

"So I ask you to do the same for me."

And kissed the base of the tombstone, blood seeping from her lips.

"Never will the world see me after today."

Duban and Faqir stepped up behind her, bowing deeply.

""We will never forget you, just as you never forgot us.""

Only when Safira had walked away did the two men lift their heads.

""Thank you, O Second Sun.""

Azeem approached next.

He stood over the grave for a long moment, lips pressed tight, before kneeling.

"I'm sure Aladdin is already on his way here. I'll… prepare his coronation."

He lowered his forehead to the stone, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I will follow your Will until my last breath, my Lord."

A few stray tears fell before he rose and stepped aside.

There was nothing more he could really say... nothing.

No words could even begin to describe what he felt.

Something he himself didn't yet process.

"I..."

The one that took his place was...

"I will make sure your legacy lives on."

Noor.

She'd surprisingly returned to bid him goodbye.

And now, for the first time in her life, she knelt intentionally before him.

It seemed that the 'privilege' of kneeling to the Sultan was finally bestowed upon her.

"You will not only be my muse, but all of Fam Iblis's."

She bowed her head low, rose, and then left.

Zafar was about to approach next when Sinbad stepped forward instead.

No longer was he a massive beast, but his much smaller form, not wanting to tower over his Lord, even in death... especially in death.

He waddled to the tombstone, pausing only to pat Dunya.

"I hope you like it, Elder Brother. Cost a pretty coin, this one."

The little owl let out a depressed chuckle.

"I'm sorry... I know you wanted to be buried next to me, but…"

More tears left his eyes.

"I don't have a body to bury... I... I don't... Forgive me."

He rested his small head against the cold stone.

"Don't worry. I'll still bury your Will there. I-I'll be with you… always."

His beak kissed the tombstone as he turned to go—

"...!"

But Dunya caught him before he could, pulling him into her trembling arms.

Sinbad let out a soft hoot, patting her shoulder with his wing before glancing at Zafar.

The permission was clear.

Finally, it was Zafar's turn.

"I failed you, my Lord."

He knelt for the second time.

"I… I don't know what to do now."

His brown eyes trembled as he looked down.

"Forgive me, but I'm..."

Tears began to well up once more.

"I'm lost without you."

The air around the hill seemed to still.

"Our lessons aren't over yet..."

The constant sobs and chants dulled to a hush.

"I need you here, my Lord."

In seconds, only Zafar's voice remained.

"So if you hear me..."

The silence deepened.

"If my words reach you...

Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

"If you care for me even a little..."

Zafar looked up at the tombstone.

"Tell me—"

His words suddenly faltered.

Something serious seemed to have happened.

Dunya and Sinbad were staring past him, their eyes wide.

"What is going..."

Zafar turned, gaze reaching the sky.

There, before a floating Scheherazade...

"Ah."

He saw words.

Ones that wrote themselves in gold.

{I would like to witness my real history, my Path.}

{I would like to make it past my Promised Day.}

{I would like to become a True King.}

{Bassorāh.}

...What?

Malik had become a True King?

What did that even mean?

And Bassorāh?

He had a Divine Kingdom?

Such questions rang through all their minds.

They couldn't understand them, finding this too sudden.

But the answer was obvious for Sinbad, Dunya, Azeem, his Shurtat Al-Khamis, and most especially, Scheherazade.

Through both their hidden and open tears, they brightly smiled at the words...

At the projection they had come from.

Malik was never a mere replacement for the True Sultan.

He'd eventually take over the 'His' duties, yes, but not become 'Him.'

The True King was someone who created his own Path.

If a being like Malik wasn't classified as such, then...

No one else could be called that.

Those words were likely what came to him at the beginning of this showing.

It was the Script of his own Divine Kingdom reaching him.

A Script he'd written for himself.

One that allowed him to show his life to the world.

Yes, it was never the Ten Commandment.

It was Malik.

He was the one who revealed the truth to them, even while losing his very soul.

The Author was he; everything had moved by his design.

Nothing escaped his gaze.

And that seemed to be the case even now.

Because suddenly...

Thump!

The Script disappeared.

Far beyond them, the world saw a new truth.

They saw it, or rather, they saw them, next to the Shams.

Towering over the horizon, unmistakably and painfully familiar.

Two Golden Suns calmly peering down at Fam Iblis.

They belonged to a being of unfathomable rank.

A Malāk.

Malāk Al-Shams.

An Angel Of The Sun.

The world hadn't witnessed death.

No, what they saw was a miracle.

...A True King was born.

{Volume ?}