Chapter 171: The Angels Are Here

Malik kept watching his daughter weave through a small cluster of crimson owls, laughing as Isha nipped playfully at her sleeve.

His heart never felt so soft.

Eventually, he gestured for her to come over.

Amal bounded across the grass without question, her golden eyes bright, completely unbothered by whatever her father might want.

’Ember’s Touch.’

Malik activated the Soul Glyph.

He hadn’t had any last time he checked the system, but he had obviously bought Soul Glyphs since then, both peak and single versions.

Or perhaps he had obtained it while satisfying his new addiction to the Wheel of Fortune.

Either way, the Soul Glyph was to be used for something extremly important.

He brought a finger up, the tip glowing bright white, and tapped it gently against her forehead.

Amal puffed her cheeks, assuming he was playing some kind of game, swatting halfheartedly at his hand.

He wasn’t playing.

Beneath the surface, Malik felt threads of Corruption still clinging to the edges of her Soul, faint, stubborn remnants he couldn’t burn away.

He worked through them again, patient and careful, pulling each thread loose and letting the white fire consume it before it could root any deeper.

Dunya noticed.

She stood near the back of the garden, quiet as always, easy to overlook if you weren’t paying attention.

But Malik had learned that she noticed everything, especially the things people tried hardest to hide.

Her eyes were fixed on his hand.

Malik glanced her way, and for a brief moment, their eyes met, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

She didn’t say anything, but the understanding was clear enough without words.

He finished with Amal and returned to his relaxed posture against the tree, watching her scamper back off towards the owls.

The garden was peaceful.

So peaceful, in fact, that Malik found himself growing oddly restless.

An itch crept up in the back of his mind, a pull towards the Wheel, towards spinning it again, just one more time, just to see what came up.

’...wait.’

A pull that him pause.

’Since when was I like this?’

Malik had never been a gambler. Not like this, not with this particular hunger clawing at the edges of his thoughts every time his hands went idle.

He turned the question over, tracing it back, trying to pinpoint exactly when the itch had first started.

It was recent. Definitely recent.

The only thing of real note he’d done lately was heal his—

Ah.

Amal’s Corruption.

He’d burned it out of her, yes, but fire that touched Corruption didn’t always walk away clean.

His Soul had been in contact with hers during the process, and Corruption, clever and patient as it always was, had found a way to slip through that contact.

Twisted him, just slightly.

Just enough to plant a seed.

IT must have anticipated this exact outcome.

Known Malik would burn the Corruption out of his own daughter without hesitation, and used that certainty to slip a slower, subtler version of itself into him instead.

A delayed infection, meant to grow unnoticed until it was too late to stop.

It would have worked, too, if he hadn’t taken this moment to actually sit still long enough to notice something was wrong with himself.

Malik held his breath.

He turned the fire inward.

His own Soul first, pain blooming immediately and violently, far sharper than anything Amal had felt from his gentle, practiced touch.

This wasn’t practiced.

This was forceful, burning through resistance that fought back every step of the way.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his expression to stay neutral, not wanting to alarm Layla or Amal or any of the others scattered peacefully across the garden.

The Corruption pushed back.

Hard.

It had rooted itself deeper than he’d first assumed, tendrils wrapping around fragments of his Soul with a tenacity that confirmed exactly what he’d started to suspect.

This hadn’t been an accident.

This had been the real target all along.

Amal’s infection had only ever been bait, a vector meant to reach him specifically, using his own protective instincts as the delivery method.

Clever and exactly the kind of long game IT liked to play.

Malik pushed harder, feeding more of his Rukh into the flame, forcing it to burn brighter despite the mounting pain searing through every corner of his being.

His jaw ached from how tightly he kept it clenched.

The Corruption resisted every inch of the way, clawing, twisting, trying to anchor itself somewhere his fire couldn’t reach.

He refused to let it.

Minutes passed like this, Malik locked in a silent, internal battle no one around him could see, his outward posture remaining carefully calm even as agony roared beneath the surface.

Until finally, with one last surge of effort, the last thread snapped.

The Corruption burned away entirely, leaving behind only the aching exhaustion of a Soul that had just fought off something trying to consume it from the inside out.

Malik exhaled slowly, opening his eyes, his vision swimming slightly from the strain.

Ding!

—

╔═════════════╗

║TRAIT UNLOCKED!║

╚═════════════╝

[Trait — Cursed Child]

[Description: A title that spoke of ITs obsesstion.]

—

That was what he saw, but he didn’t focus on it.

Huda stood directly in front of him.

Hands on her hips, pink eyes narrowed, staring down at him with the particular expression of someone who’d clearly been watching for longer than he realized.

Behind Huda, a few familiar faces waited.

Naeem, her father.

Her mother was standing close beside him.

Both of them looked at Malik with bright, open smiles, the kind that nearly left him confused by how genuinely grateful they seemed.

"I’m just here to let you know that we don’t have any problems between us anymore!"

Huda said it fast, almost like she wanted it over with before she had time to overthink it, then turned on her heel and walked off without waiting for a response.

Her parents quickly bowed towards Malik, before hurrying after her.

Malik’s soft smile widened, just slightly, watching them go.

It felt good.

Being here was so very nice.

But of course, nothing lasted forever.

Especially not anything Malik considered good.

His view was blocked after a moment or two.

Dunya had stepped into frame.

Words materialized before her, written in the particular shimmer only her connection to death allowed.

[They have arrived.]

With them came a promise of war.

[End Of Volume Three: The Angels Are Here]