“…”
The owl blinked.
“…You again.”
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Malik didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or just ignore it.
So instead, he just stared back, waiting for whatever came next.
The crimson owl descended, its massive wings folding gracefully as it landed a few feet from him.
“What do you want from me?… Why are you here?”
“…”
The owl didn’t respond, of course—it was just a bird.
But it didn’t feel like just a bird.
Not this one.
“Don’t get any closer.”
Malik tried to stand, instinctively reaching for his dagger.
Unfortunately… his body refused to cooperate. Again.
Every muscle felt like jelly, shaking to kingdom come.
It was what carrying her body, or at least attempting to, had done to him.
“Move.”
He hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes of gold darting between the owl and Jasmine’s lifeless form.
And yet move he could not.
No matter how much he willed himself to.
All he could do was watch as it stepped closer.
Each one was slow as if it understood that he couldn’t stop it.
But just when it was just a talon away from her body, it paused.
The owl tilted its head as if studying her.
“Back off!”
Malik’s chest heaved.
“I said back off!”
The owl didn’t.
It leaned down, its massive beak hovering dangerously close to her head.
“NO! STOP!”
His screams filled the forest, raw, but the owl ignored him.
Clack!
Its beak snapped shut.
He winced, bracing himself for the sickening sound of flesh tearing.
But it never came.
Instead, there was just… softness.
The owl’s beak had clamped onto Jasmine’s clothes, not her body.
Gently, almost reverently, it lifted her off the ground, her limp form swaying slightly as it rose.
“What in the fuck…”
Malik blinked, his fury fizzling into pure, dumb confusion.
Still, the owl didn’t seem to care.
It just kept dragging Jasmine toward the grave he’d dug earlier.
The one meant to be her eternal home.
He continued to watch as the bird went about its business.
It acted like this was somehow the most normal thing in the world.
And then, slowly, he felt his strength trickling back into his limbs.
Malik wobbled as he got to his feet, legs shaky like a newborn fawn.
“Hey…”
He called out weakly, his voice lacking its earlier venom.
The owl ignored him.
It was in the middle of a burial and it wasn’t about to be distracted.
With a kind of gentleness he didn’t know a creature that size could have, the bird lowered her body into the grave.
It adjusted her like it was tucking her into bed, making sure she rested just right.
Malik just stood there, slack-jawed and too stunned to say anything.
When it finally finished, the owl turned its glowing eyes on him.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
They just stared at each other, like two stumbling idiots.
Then, it turned back to the grave and began shoving dirt into it with its beak.
The sight of it—this giant, crimson bird doing something so… human—stirred something in him.
It was weird, almost unsettling, how gentle it was, like it understood what this all meant.
For a second, Malik swore he could see Sinbad in the damn thing.
Just a flicker… a flicker of the boy he so desperately missed.
The way it moved, the care it showed—it was almost too familiar.
He’d heard it before, you know?
People say when you’re grieving, you start seeing the ones you lost in everything and everyone.
Or in Malik’s case, apparently, a massive owl.
Sure, they had the same colored ‘hair’ and eyes, but still… an owl?
It was stupid; he knew it.
Just his mind playing tricks on him.
But did it really matter?
Whether it was his brain throwing memories at him or just some weird cosmic coincidence…
He didn’t care.
It made him pause, just for a second.
Made him hesitate a little longer before joining in, scooping up handfuls of dirt with trembling hands.
They worked together, man and beast, neither letting out a sound.
When the grave was finally filled, Malik sat back, staring at the freshly packed earth.
His eyes scanned the ground until they landed on a flat stone nearby.
Dragging himself over to it, he picked it up and set it at the head of the grave.
Pulling out his dagger, he started carving.
Each stroke was rough, jagged, and uneven.
But, again, he didn’t care. It was enough.
Soon, the name {JASMINE} stood out against the pale surface…
Her mark on the world.
Malik placed the makeshift tombstone at the head of the grave, then crouched down.
“Jasmine…”
His lips brushed the cold surface, lingering there for a long moment.
“Remember me. Remember me… but please… please forget my fate.”
The owl moved again, its massive frame lowering until its head came to rest on his back.
It was heavy, incredibly so, but he didn’t pull away from it.
For the first time in what felt like years, he let himself feel the comfort of something.
Anything. Even if it was this strange, otherworldly bird he couldn’t begin to understand.
He closed his eyes, his hand trembling as it brushed over the its feathers.
They weren’t what he expected—softer, warmer in a way that seemed almost impossible for something so eerie.
“Thank you.”
With that, he pulled away, his hand patting it one last time.
The owl blinked slowly, tilting its head in that weird, knowing way it had.
Like it got it. Like it understood everything he couldn’t say, even acknowledging his gratitude.
Bewildered, Malik shook his head, stood up, turned, and began walking away.
Yet before he left, his gaze fell on Sinbad, who still leaned lazily against the same tree.
But then, just as quickly as he was there, he wasn’t.
In his place, glowing faintly against the bark, were words that twisted the knife in his chest just a little deeper:
{You getting used to this, huh?}
He blinked, and the words didn’t disappear; they only changed.
{Just how many more times will it take?}
Again.
{When will you learn? When? Tell me… your little brother, your responsibility.}
Again.
{Maybe Safira has to die for you to understand. Understand that you are nothing.}
Again.
{Waste. Trash. Loser. Coward. Idiot. Weakling. Liar. Fraud. Fool. Failure. Burden. Mistake. Fake. Pathetic. Worthless. Spineless. Nobody. Clown. Joke. Disgrace. Wreck. Shell. Cripple. Hollow. Nothing. Dirt. Scrub. Deadweight. Baggage. Mess. Wretch. Scrap. Husk. Rot. Degenerate. Castoff. Reject. Fluke. Stain. Muck. Defect. Pest. Stench. Ruin. Feeble. Flea. Crutch. Outcast. Ghost. Cretin. Dreg. Gutter. Stump. Dullard. Smudge. Pus.}
A bitter laugh escaped him.
“Am I that bad?… Asshole.”
Malik waved a hand, dispelling the illusion for good, and continued on his way.
He didn’t look back.
The owl didn’t follow.
This was their goodbye.
Now… the forest was quiet—too quiet.
It made him feel like he was the only person left in the world.
‘…Jasmine.’
He told himself not to think.
‘Jasmine.’
Not to feel.
‘Jasmine.’
But with every step, her name echoed louder and louder in his head.
And so, to quell her screams, he walked faster, busying his mind.
Stopping now wasn’t an option.
Stopping meant remembering.
And remembering…
It was Hell.