***
{Outside The Projection}
All the teasing, the laughing, the jabs at Safira’s expense—gone.
Snuffed out in an instant.
Because they all saw it.
War was here.
The village in the projection was still standing, still whole, still untouched.
But they all knew it wouldn’t stay that way.
No matter how beautiful the crops looked under the Twelve Moons. No matter how peaceful the water wheels turned. No matter how warm the lantern light flickered in the windows.
By tomorrow, it would all be gone.
Burned. Razed. Turned into nothing but smoldering ruin.
And Malik—
The man who had, just moments ago, been the source of their amusement, the target of Safira’s constant prodding, was the one who would make it happen.
They had seen it before.
They knew how this worked.
But still, that didn’t make it easier.
Duban exhaled, long and slow.
He looked down, covering his face with both hands.
Faqir, on the other hand, didn’t bother hiding his expression.
Seething hatred was on full display.
He knew better than anyone what war did to people at the bottom.
Neither spoke.
Because there was nothing to say.
Nothing to change what was coming next.
Then, slowly, their eyes turned—
To Safira.
She seemed to take it the worst of them.
Her past self blushed when Malik patted her head.
It made her embarrassed, ashamed, and humiliated, but this? This was worse.
She had been having fun. Laughing at a man who had no room for laughter.
Teasing a man who was walking a road paved in blood and fire.
Just how was her past self so clueless, disconnected, so completely unaware of the storm about to wreck everything, so caught up in a world that had nothing to do with what was real? The dumb, petty games she played had no place there. None at all.
Well… if one knew her secret, then such behaviour wouldn’t appear so unnatural.
Safira, a traveler between worlds, had yet to acclimate to the truth.
Perhaps the war was what had finally done that for her.
***
{Inside The Projection}
The early morning sky was just starting to stretch its fingers, the first rays of the Shams poking through the dark, giving everything a soft glow.
The air was still cool, but the heat of the day was already threatening to kick in.
Below the walls of the city, people gathered, whispers running through them.
They were restless but charged, knowing that something big was about to go down.
All their eyes were glued to the top of their city’s gates.
There, a seasoned figure stood, surrounded by his son, a beautiful fairy, his people, and a particularly handsome Stranger.
This seasoned figure was their Caliph.
Nasir.
He was here for them, for all of them.
Throwing his shoulders back, he let the wind catch his yellow cloak.
“In the name of God…”
The words came out smooth, almost like a prayer, but there was fire underneath.
Those behind him, except that one Stranger, pulled off a gesture without missing a beat.
Right hand to chest, fingers pointing upward, left hand above it, forming a ‘T’ shape.
“May peace, mercy, and blessings of God be upon you all.”
Nasir continued, calm but with a weight that made everyone listen—and listen well.
“May peace, mercy, and blessings of God be upon you.”
And, of course, the crowd repeated it in murmurs.
This wasn’t just a greeting—it was an oath.
A promise to each other.
“O honorable people, O noble people, O loyal people, O pure and righteous people, O patient and steadfast people, O dignified and free people…”
He let each title hang as his blue eyes scanned their faces.
“You who have not been changed by time, who have not been defeated by wars, who have not been weakened by sacrifices, and who have not been frightened by threats…”
He smiled at them.
“You who have always been people of patience and insight, of sacrifice and redemption, of faith and certainty…”
A slow burn started in their chests.
“We meet today to reaffirm our pledge and promise, and to continue together on the path of truth, steadfastness, and resistance…”
Nasir’s arms opened wide as he spoke, welcoming the whole city into his vision.
Then, his voice dropped, becoming more intense.
“Our people shed their blood to give us this city.”
It wasn’t a question.
“We cannot sell it.”
It wasn’t up for debate.
“We cannot lose it.”
The crowd stood even straighter, hands gripping their clothes, their faces hardening.
“Now we must decide…”
Nasir took a step forward, nearing the wall’s edge.
“Will it drown in the darkness of Depravity or rise as the Sun of hope?”
He took a beat, and then dropped the hammer:
“WILL WE CHANGE THE FATE OF THIS CITY OR WILL WE LET IT REMAIN IN CHAINS?!”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Silence.
Total silence.
One could feel the weight of it.
Nasir raised his right hand up high, fist clenched.
“EVEN IF I DIE, MY WILL SHALL LIVE ON!”
His words exploded in the morning light.
“THOSE WERE MY FATHER’S WORDS!”
He brought that fist to his chest, smacking it hard.
“ALL OF YOU! MY PEOPLE! CARRY HIS WILL IN YOUR HEARTS, AND ENGRAVE A MONUMENT OF CHANGE IN THE COURSE OF HISTORY. OASIS IS OURS, AND ITS FUTURE IS IN OUR HANDS!”
Nasir’s voice made the ground itself feel like it was shaking underfoot.
“INDEED, THE BASTARDS HAD LEFT ME WITH TWO CHOICES!”
He took a breath, his expression hardening.
“BETWEEN THE SWORD AND HUMILIATION.”
The man paused, and then, from somewhere in the front, a voice called out:
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
Then another:
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
Then another:
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
Until the whole crowd was shouting it.
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
Men, women, and children.
All of them shouted. Ready to tear down mountains.
Their arms had shot up like spears, joining their leader’s.
The whole damn city was rumbling and Nasir’s roar only rattled it harder.
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
The crowd screamed it back, every single person shouting in one unified roar.
“FAR FROM US IS HUMILIATION!”
Now, even the sky itself seemed to shake with their power.
Nasir stood there, arm raised, breathing hard, his eyes locked on the people below.
He didn’t need to say anything else.
The message was clear.
The city was theirs, and they weren’t backing down from anyone.
“Hm.”
Watching all that unfold, the Stranger, Malik, revealed a tiny smile.
“…Far from us is humiliation.”