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S O U T H L A N D

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D I G A R

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S Y R N E M P I R E

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M A L A K’S C H A M B E R

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The night wind blew across Malak's face as it journeyed through the window of the top floor into his chamber. It was so strong and cold that it blew off the only source of light in the room which was the lantern by the table beside the bed. . .

Even as the wind was cool, it could not dry up the beads of sweat that formed incessantly on Malak's forehead. His eyelids fluttered violently and his subconscious felt the urge to burst them open and meet the actual world he was in.

The breathe in his lungs thickened and the panting persisted. He was scared, even in his subconscious —his subconscious is not aware of how powerful he is in the outside world. He was just like a child to the vision that struck his subconscious mind, and he wa