I made myself forget. I lied to myself, now and back then. He didn't kill Jasmine for good reason... He didn't abandon me for good reason... And now... he didn't hide himself from me for good reason. Malik... he... he's bad. He might've done good by saving us, but... He never really cared about us. That night was a night of revenge. It doesn't explain his... personality switch, but again... "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I never should've invited him to that meeting. We should've been more careful. Everything was obvious with hindsight. And now, I was stuck with the consequences. Their deaths echoed in my mind on repeat. One scream and another was gone. A few more right after. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and... Tens of them gone in seconds. I didn't look at where I was going, yet my feet moved faster than they had ever moved. As if they themselves knew exactly where to go. As if my entire body's only purpose was to reach them. Vomit crawled up my throat... I jumped up over dead soldiers. I sidestepped a pile of them. A few stragglers were ahead. They had their swords out. An ice pellet splattered one of the men's brains. "W-We aren't here to fight!" "They forced me into this!" A few of them stuttered. Two more pellets left my staff. Two bodies fell to the ground. One body was already dead, however. The man had used his friend as cover. He swung his sword as I approached. I ducked my head, easily dodging its trajectory. My feet rushed through the valley, and as I neared the fallen gate... An arrow was upon my head. I took hold of its fragments and threw them back at the attacker's eyes. And now, he was dead. My feet grew exhausted. My breath grew labored. But I didn't dare stop. There might be a few I could still save. Ones who remained alive. My feet finally faltered. My body crashed into a few fallen soldiers. I couldn't handle it. 'No... they might still be alive.' My body allowed me to. Soon, I met the entrance... 'I should kill myself.' What once was my family... My feet felt stuck to the ground. I felt as if I was stuck in heavy rock. It wasn't stone, but blood. My feet were stuck in blood. I forcibly moved my legs. I pulled them up with my arms. I repeatedly hit them. Yet I barely moved an inch, staying beside the massive gate. I looked down once again. My family's limbs were strewn about. Inner organs too. They covered the sand beneath. As if I forgot how to. It felt like I was about to do it. But every time, the digested food stopped near my throat. As if I were being played with. Toyed with. Even the stench didn't allow me to let loose. The smell of death and gore all around me. A nauseating and horrifying testament to what my eyes witnessed. I began hitting my feet again. Begging them to move. I needed to know exactly what happened. They finally complied. My feet waded through the river's blood beneath me. In my third step, I noticed that my right... My right contained a severed head. It lay there on the ground. Once, a loud older brother of mine. He was happy, despite our less-than-ideal circumstances. He was the one who lifted me up when I first joined, the one who called me family. And the moment he joined our cause, he was the most supportive. A tear left my eye... Another man was there, his chest split open. It seemed like Zaid was protecting Saif. Someone we all loved to dote on. Dead showed themselves here as well. "Adil, Bahir, Karim, Farid…." Many names flowed out of my mouth. My nose felt stuffy, and every breath was a struggle. My jaw felt like it was about to tear off. My head felt like it was about to burst. Yet I moved past the blood splattered across the buildings. My feet pushed away the blood beneath, and I approached the mosque. Maybe some of them hid themselves in there, I thought. Before me was a broken door. A broken ground, a broken structure... And what most would call a nightmare. "Jamal... Uncle Jarar... Duban... N-Nasir..." Four names left my mouth. His body was slumped against the wall, a broken puppet. His sword was still in his hand, loose, his knuckles white even in death. He… he looked like he was mid-sentence. Like he still had something to say. The victory cry was still caught in his throat. It never made it out. It never got to breathe. He was Nasir's second-in-command. Always standing right behind him. Always ready. Now his head was twisted. He had grabbed it and spun it the wrong way. Duban was right before Nasir. He was right before his father. He had fallen protecting him. He had fallen beside an old man. Someone I didn't know. I could no longer see it. I could no longer see them. My eyes were still there, but they refused. My mind blocked it out, like a hand over a child's face. As if seeing what had become of him would split me down the middle. As if my heart could only take so much. I stood there in the doorway. The loudest silence in the world. But then, I heard a sound... I turned, and my eyes, they... They met something gold. "Goodbye, Safira... my disciple."