The nobles stood frozen in place, clinging to their pride like children to broken toys. Malek’s presence was not loud. He wore no armor, no crown. Just a long coat of dark silk threaded with starlight, and eyes that made men forget their gods.
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“This kingdom belongs to me now,” he said.
A senator choked on breath. “Y-You can’t just take it!”
Malek’s gaze didn’t even shift.
“I already have.”
A flick of his hand. The man didn’t scream—his entire existence inverted, folding inward like paper in fire. Only silence remained. A perfect, neat vacancy where flesh once stood.
Malek turned to the others.
“You can earn your lives,” he said. “Bow.”
They bowed.
Every one of them.
But not out of loyalty.
Out of fear.