Scalding heat ripped through the streets and licked at the base of carts and feet, of buildings and huts, of everything within its reach. Tendrils and flames crawled up the wooden shafts of shops, burning away at mudbrick until a vile stench permeated through the air. Boots and skin slapped violently against cobblestone.

The Market Square was swathed in discord.

A woman jutted her torch into the air, sweat rolling down her tight, leathery visage. "Bring out the Hyjin!" She pivoted and chucked the fire into a stand, erupting into howls as it set ablaze. Her fellow peasants cheered along before following her example. They could care less which cart belonged to whom; logic dwarfed while in the presence of unbridled disgust and adrenaline. The crowd expanded and increased in number, filling the roads and alleys until their elbows brushed.

Jahib stood atop his own stand, pitchfork perched and poised like the staff of royalty, and swept his gaze over the glorious madness he created. This was a proud day, certainly the proudest of his life; however, a thirst for more burned at the base of his throat. Yelling and demanding the Hyjin's head wouldn't quench it. Holding it within his hands, feeling the cold creep into its pale evil skin, and watching the light dim in its eyes—only this would satisfy the vendor's hunger. Jahib hopped down and fisted Serb's collar, drawing the elder man away from his raging brethren.

"Round up two more men and come with me," he urged, "Guards are bound to show up soon. If they try to keep that devil safe, then we'll have the blood of the traitors that side with it." Serb fell silent, his posture rigid and lips pinched to block whatever words broiled in him. Finally, he forced himself to relax and nodded.

"Alright. Meet me next to the smith." His visage darkened. "I know a couple of traitors whose punishment is long overdue."

†

"To the square! Line up, line up!"

Kazue's head whipped back and met the wall with a solid thud. He hissed and cradled the area, though that did nothing more than enhance the throbbing. The boy cracked his eyes open, trying to adjust to the daylight filtering through the halls. However, his vision instantly sharpened as several guards sprinted past him, each drawing swords from sheaths and dawning their helmets. Their armor clanked and clanged and shimmered, momentarily mesmerizing the boy speechless. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders—

Then he froze.

From what Kazue could remember, he hadn't fallen asleep with a blanket last night. It was just him, his robes, and Rayna's locked door. He didn't have long to ponder; Dado's hulking form racing by like an angry bull distracted him. "Man your shields! Send squadron ten to the wells!" he bellowed.

Curiosity climbing, Kazue clambered to the nearest window and stood on his toes, wondering what was outside that could stir such an uproar. He was already stunted in growth for his age, but the height of the sill undoubtedly contributed to his struggle. Huffing in frustration, he craned his neck to its limits and peered centimeters above the ledge. It wasn't much at all, but more than enough for the boy to gasp at what he saw. He back-peddled and tripped on his own feet.

A hand to his back.

"Your balance is still as pitiful as ever."

Kazue instantly recognized the poise and strength behind that touch. "Guardian spirit!" He whipped around, prepping to cling onto Rayna's leg for dear life.

Only for a forearm to the chest to halt him in his advances. The ghost of a tremor traveled through the princess, weak and practically invisible to the careless eye. Kazue was far from careless when it came to royal teen and yet, as she nudged him away, a whirlwind of hurt and bafflement clouded his senses.

"Am I still in trouble?" he asked. His head dipped, as if he foresaw a harsh scolding. Like the night before, Rayna didn't acknowledge him. Countenance stony and hollow, she approached the window and pressed a palm to the glass.

Smoke billowed in the distance.

A grimace pulled at her lips. Another rebellion, she thought. What could possibly be the issue now?

†

Rows of soldiers blockaded every exit. Their shields slammed side by side, forming a wall of impenetrable steel that gleamed in the blistering heat. Blades were poised with a deathly grip as the rioters howled and screamed. Only a matter of footsteps separated the two parties; one bellowed curses and chucked torches, while the other remained stoic and awaited the first command.

Dado emerged to the front of his men. His entire form towered over everyone else like an armored giant. "Drop your weapons!" he barked at the commoners, his voice booming and gravely. The Royal General grimaced at the negative backlash and had to back away as a pitchfork came hurtling at him, scratching the surface of his chest plate.

"We won't stop until you hand over the Hajin!"

Dado couldn't pick out where the declaration came from, it could've been anyone. The peasants roared in agreement, demanding Kazue's blood to spill and his head presented to them on a stake. Absolute sickness rumbled in the general's gut. He loathed the hatred and ignorance swallowing up Egypt like a plague; even in his position of power, he couldn't change a single thing. Face stoic, he raised an arm, hailing his men's attention.

"Men! Detain them all!" Steel colored his tone. "Use whatever force necessary!"

In that moment, mercy died.

The soldiers jabbed their swords forth and sprinted into the fray. They rammed through the crowd of commoners effortlessly; some were bashed painfully by shields, some were trampled under hundreds upon hundreds of metallic feet, cradling their snapped joints with blood-curdling screams, and all were subjected to nothing short of a slaughter. Dado stood rooted in place, barely batting a lash as his men rushed around him and shrieks intermingled with clouds of smoke. His insides became numb and a cold molasses clogged up his thoughts, entrapping his remorse in a tar-black cocoon.

This was his responsibility and he had to abide by that.

In his peripherals, he caught sight of a group of men, no more than three or four, squeezing through the chaos and out of sight. Dado knew that he should've apprehended them—he truly did. However, his callousness proved too great and any iota of obligation within him to harm someone vanished. His eyes fluttered closed and a prayer for forgiveness moved silently against his lips.

†

"This is where the Hajin lives!" Serb pointed out Kepi's hut. It appeared as downtrodden and pathetic as ever, though an unsettling quietness emitted from it.

Jahib patted him on the shoulder. "Good man. That filthy wench is just as much of a disgrace as her child." He spat out child as if it was poison on his tongue. "She'll learn her lesson today. Wait here in case she tries to run."

Serb nodded, watching tensely as Jahib stomped up to the door. His fist pounded against it, alerting the neighbors and rousing them to peek out of their homes. However, they instantly retreated at the sight of torches and pitchforks. If proper treatment was being dealt to the Hajin's concubine, then they had no desire to interfere.

The silence drew out for a few moments, eating away at Jahib until he caved into his impatience. Growling, he kicked the entrance open; it barely survived the onslaught, having been reduced to chunks and splinters. The vendor held up his torch, illuminating whatever corner dared to hide his prey from view. To his frustration, the hut appeared to be empty—aside from a toppled stool and seemingly out of place hole in the wall, it was vacant. Face twisting in rage, Jahib emerged from the hut and said, "Empty! That damned whore must've heard us coming!"

Serb and the others cursed under their breaths. The elder worked his jaw around as his mind raced; as far as he knew, Kepi was reckless when it came to making decisions and getting what she wants. However, she had always been cautious concerning her hut. Despite it's disgusting condition, she never left it longer than twenty-four hours and didn't allow visitors. Thus, he couldn't scrape up a single idea where else she could've found refuge.

Which led them to their next target.

"It's fine," Serb said, "We'll come back for her. Let's find the other one."

"Who?" Jahib asked.

"The priest. I've heard the Hajin goes to his monastery."

"What?!" Jahib reacted as if he stumbled upon the highest of scandals. Molten betrayal and shock coursed through his veins as he clenched a fistful of his hair. "Unbelievable," he spat. "A man of the monastery! A role model for our youth! And he has the audacity to welcome in the Hajin!" His outburst was answered by an almost mournful beat of silence. Seizing his bearings, Jahib set off into a march, his steps promising cruel justice.

"What'll we do to him?" the other vendor asked.

A cross between a huff and a bitter laugh escaped Serb. "Remind that old fool that there are sides to pick—"

"And he picked the wrong one," Jahib growled.

†

Father Hakim stood before a window, his form statuesque and reminiscent of a stone guardian. The natural sag of his features drooped even more on this day. An innate misery and disappointment threatened to swallow his mind whole, enshrouding him in smog as thick as the one rolling through the sky. Of all travesties to wake up to, it had to be this.

He had cancelled all lessons for the children today and prohibited them from returning until the next sunrise. He knew of how violent the villagers could become during a riot and the absolute last vision he wanted brandished in his memory was of his students suffering. Their horror and screams and confusion...such a thing would haunt his dreams for the rest of his years.

"May Ra have mercy on us," he whispered before settling on the edge of his mattress. It was nothing lavish—a thin board wrapped in layers of sheets and cotton, though they worked poorly to support his aging spine. A lonesome pillow rested at the head of the priest's bed, just as flat in appearance and color as his entire chamber. It was not to say that he couldn't afford better sleeping conditions; in the end, materialistic gain never appealed to him and suffering was just a platform towards reaching unity with Ra.

Father Hakim granted himself a few minutes, allowing the distress to plummet beneath his skin and recede into the most secure cell of his mind, locked away and dulled to his senses. It was wasteful to fret over the riot. His best option was to make his rounds through the monastery, fulfill his daily duties and chores, reflect, and check up on his adult devotees. He attempted to send them home as well, but they had protested and were now patrolling the grounds at their leisure.

Father Hakim fastened his robes about him and shuffled out into the corridors. The floorboards creaked and crooned beneath his feet, pumping echoes through the chambers and windows; they ricocheted and bounced against his frame like a ghosted massage. A peace unlike usual permeated the air, as if the monastery was eternally trapped in a calm before a storm. He didn't quite know what to make of it.

The priest soon found himself hovering about the public sector, which held the altar and eclectic rooms dedicated to educating the children. He spotted two devotees manning the front entrance, both young men in their early to mid-twenties. They bowed in greeting and one of the two approached Father Hakim with purpose in his visage.

"Father Hakim, we have the perimeters covered," the devotee said. He swept a hand out towards the same corridor the elder came from. "Please, you seem troubled enough as it is. You don't have to fuss over us." To many others in the monastery, his assertiveness was received with offense and annoyance. However, Father Hakim knew of the generosity lurking beneath his tone.

"That's quite alright, Abasi." The priest waved his hand dismissively. "I may be old, but these bones work fine enough to walk about. And as long as I'm responsible for this monastery, I'll do what I can to contribute to the workload." Abasi wanted to protest, but he held his tongue at last second and bowed again.

"Understood, Father Hakim—"

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Father Hakim, Abasi and the other devotee's heads snapped towards the front entrance. The knocks came rapid and savage, almost jostling the door free of its ancient hinges.

"Let us in, Father!" a voice wailed from the other side. "You can't hide in there forever!" There was the shout of three more males, all equally parched and thirsting for revenge. Father Hakim had encountered many hateful souls in his lifetime and many more rioters, but these men spoke with a feral rage unlike anything he ever heard.

"Leave these grounds!" Abasi yelled. He and the devotees were braced against the door, though their efforts didn't seem to accomplish much; the banging increased in force until their arms buckled and their faces pinched.

"Not until you hand over that Hajin lover!"

"Hajin lover?" Abasi repeated while shooting Father Hakim a skeptical glance. The inquiry was written plainly across his face. The elder had never once mentioned interaction with the orphan, let alone being civil with it. "Father? What're they talking about?"

The priest paled as his eyes averted from Abasi. "I..." His lips grew dry, the air suddenly stiff and suffocating.

"Fath—"

Another bang rocked the entrance.

"That's it! Serb! Grab..." The command faded as they seemed to sprint off. At first, the priest and devotees thought they fled but that hope was crushed as a loud shatter hit their ears. Shards of glass exploded from their right, raining down on them like a prickling shower.

Jahib was the first to climb inside, grunting as stray shrapnel pierced his skin; however, when his sight landed on Father Hakim, his determination burned anew. "There's the traitor," he growled.

Serb and the other vendors followed suit, poising their torches and pitchforks as they attempted to descend on the priest. Their advances came up short as a wave of more devotees spilled out from the corridors; none of them were brandishing weapons, but they formed a body shield around Father Hakim in the shape of a semi-circle. Abasi stood at the front of the group. "You're trespassing on sacred grounds! Leave immediately, rioters!" he barked.

"Do you realize what you're laying your life down for?!" Jahib said.

"For our wise and loving Father Hakim! The heart of this mon—" Abasi was cut off by a scoff and exclamation from Jahib.

"Oh, Ra! Damned fools! The whole lot of you!" The vendor slapped his ear mockingly. "You sheltered priests barely hear of anything! Don't you know? That so-called wonderful leader of yours is involved with the Hajin!"

"Even I knew about it!" Serb said. A conglomerate of whispers and protest rolled from the devotees; some were aware of Father Hakim's action, as they had caught sight of the orphan lurking about the grounds. However, the rest had yet to learn of such a thing—including Abasi. Their sentiments cleaved them in two, producing a tension among men who had vowed themselves to a lifelong brotherhood.

"Father Hakim cares for all!"

"He lowers himself to interact with the Hyjin?"

"Lies! Nothing but petty lies—"

"Is this true? Surely it isn't."

"Why should it matter to begin with? Our Father—"

"—Hakim has taught us to accept others from all backgrounds!"

"But not with the background of a Hajin!"

Father Hakim attempted to calm them, arms raised and his voice cracking from the volume. The priest hadn't stressed his tone in ages. "Please, please! Calm down!" Unfortunately, his efforts were fruitless and the unrest around him climbed to new heights.

The sight gave birth to a pleased expression crossing the vendors' visages, especially so on that of Jahib's. He cackled while meandering forward, as if the wall of babbling men was nothing more than a gust of air. "That's right. Come to your senses," he said.

To the priest's growing horror, several devotees hesitantly stepped aside, betrayal and disappointment mangling them to the core. In the blink of an eye, only Abasi and two other followers were left while the rest hung their heads low. They refused to lock eyes with Father Hakim, who gaped at them in utter shock. The priest visibly shook and although he squeezed and twisted and abused his fingers within his sleeves, the nerves failed to lift. Unfiltered terror coiled in his gut, tighter and tighter with every step Jahib took.

Abasi and Jahib came face to face.

"Think wisely," the vendor warned.

Abasi's skin glistened and grew clammy, his eyes shifted anxiously about, unable to remain attached to Jahib's for too long, and an unbearable lump steadily welled up deep in his throat. "I-I shall do no such thing," he stuttered. Even as he spoke those words, his feet itched to move; whether that urge was to shove Jahib back or disguised as something else was a mystery.

That is, until Father Hakim's voice carried over to him like the nudge of a newborn lamb.

"A-Abasi..." An anxious pause. "I f-fully intended to tell you. All of you—"

"A Hajin lover and a liar," Jahib interjected. He chuckled again and shook his head. The slithery smile that sat so comfortably upon his lips stirred a numb dread beneath Abasi's skin. "Are you really going to stand there and protect a lowly traitor? You against the four of us?" Confusion twisted Abasi's features; however, he soon realized that he was indeed alone, his brethren having given up on Father Hakim amidst the conversation.

The lone devotee swallowed down a curse. He had no chance handling his own against them; he could envision himself now, bloodied and bruised and broken on the ground, watching as they assaulted Father Hakim next. Father Hakim. The high priest of the monastery. Idolized and well-loved by many, both inside and outside of the premises. An intellectual and dependable man of religion. Father Hakim. Liar. Quivering, old, and cowering behind a devotee.

Hajin lover...

Abasi tossed a glance back at the priest. Every ounce of pain and perplexity in his eyes were diluted by a grim epiphany. His statement and tone meshed like oil and water.

"My apologies."

Father Hakim's world slowed to a stop.

"Abasi...?"

Abasi joined his fellow followers, focusing desperately on a stray pat to his shoulder.

"Good to see that justice is alive and well!" Jahib said. He spent a moment soaking in Father Hakim's reaction. The elder tried to keep face, to adopt a stern posture and fix his countenance into something remotely stoic, but the vendor peered through his façade like child's play. It didn't help that the priest's gaze flickered over to Abasi almost frantically, as if he anticipated the young man to change his mind at any second. Snorting in disgust, Jahib motioned to his lackeys and ordered, "Take him outside."

Before the priest could blink, he was swarmed from all sides and struggled hopelessly within the vendors' grasp. "Unhand me this instant! Followers! Abasi! H-help me!" Whatever authority he used to savor was no longer within his possession. Not a single devotee came to his assistance, let alone acknowledged his existence.

He found himself dragged out of the monastery by his collar, the back of his robes collecting dirt and dust and tears. His brittle wails pierced the air, but any ears within hearing distance fell deaf to him. Serb hauled him to his feet as they traveled out into the road and locked him into a choke from behind. "Stop squirming," he grumbled, "It'll only make it hurt more."

The elder paled. "H-hurt? Make what hur—"

Another vendor yanked his robes open, exposing his torso. Jahib began reaching for the back of his waistband, practically smitten with amusement as the priest attempted to break Serb's hold. "Why don't we write a little message?" he hummed thoughtfully. "Just a reminder to anyone who even thinks of being a Hajin lover."

Father Hakim's eyes widened as the man retracted a dagger; the blade was rusted and jagged, leaving no doubt in one's mind that it could shred the organs of any poor victim it plunged into. It seemed highly suspicious for a vendor to be in possession of such a weapon but, judging by the crazed glimmer in Jahib's eyes, the knife must've called to him on a spiritual level.

The tip of the blade rested on Father Hakim's sternum, just barely biting into his skin. A bead of blood rolled down his chest. "What can I say," Jahib muttered before shrugging, "You should've turned the Hajin away like a sensible Egyptian."

Father Hakim's breath trembled.

"N-no...I should've taken him in."

Like a switch, dark rage contorted Jahib's very being. "Foolish!" he snarled.

The dagger ripped deeper.

Agonized screams filled the air.