Chapter 31 | PoV: Rafiq
Rafiq sat at his desk, a stack of papers there, teasing and taunting him. It seemed whenever he finished with one, two more took its place.
However, not a single one of these papers mattered right now.
Four . . . Four temporal mages had been slain in their towers so far, in the last few hours alone, in the early morning.
Rafiq had sent out a missive earlier in hopes to stop it—one of the first things he had done getting to his office for the morning, upon hearing what had transpired over the night. The missive would order all temporal mages to abandon their posts, discard their robes, and go discreet. Yet, he knew whatever was happening was inevitable, crashing forward like runaway camels still attached to a covered wagon.
Rafiq was the only one in his tiny little office. New strings of llumifruits glowed, illuminating his room. His trusty candle flickered as well.
Rafiq sighed, and rubbed his temples.
A message had been drawn by the corpses, in the victims’ blood. Something very simple. Something ominous.
“Of-Jinan.”
Which, of course, made no sense. She wasn't even in Glorestra. She had gone onto some caravan going eastward. She hadn't gotten back yet, as far as Rafiq knew.
Whatever, when she got back, she'd have alibis. She could probably shake any accusations off.
Now, however, things were bad. Not even accounting for the whole “Of-Jinan” thing.
Why was the killer doing this? Why Of-Jinan? She had accidentally come across that new mage. Then she had been the target of an assassination attempt. With that failed . . . Whatever this was. Were these all connected? Was it because she made contact with that mage? Or because of her essays? Or something else? . . . Rafiq could only hopelessly guess.
There were no witnesses. The guards saw nothing. No changes of the light or anything either.
A knock came at Rafiq's door. Slightly funny, because his door was open. It was to announce someone entered, or was asking for clearance. To make Rafiq look up and acknowledge a second face in the room.
He looked up to see who stood there.
It was Shamsuddin, the secretariat. Where was Zawar? Why wasn't he back yet?
“Yes?” Rafiq asked, his tone dead. He did not try to hide how tired and done he was. It was only morning . . .
“Rafiq,” he bowed.
Rafiq waved a hand in dismissal at the bow.
“Of course.”
“So, what is it?” Rafiq raised an eyebrow.
Shamsuddin cleared his throat. “A fifth temporal mage has been found dead.”
Rafiq groaned, putting his forehead against the table—well, a paper. This couldn't be happening. He had expected this much, but still. Please, Heliux have mercy, not another one.
“Was the missive sent through?” Rafiq asked.
“Yes. It has circulated. Hopefully that will be the last victim.”
Rafiq looked up, nodding. He couldn't sigh with relief. He could not release the dread. He had not been able to stop five deaths. Even with that missive, he expected to not be able to stop any more deaths from happening.
“Any message?” Rafiq continued. “A message in blood by the killer?”
“Yes,” Shamsuddin sighed. “‘Of-Jinan.’ In blood again. They're making her look like a serial killer.”
“You know she's not even in the city. How many other people know that?”
“Not many.”
“I wish I made a copy of her missive,” Rafiq mumbled.
“You didn't know this would happen.”
“No,” Rafiq said slowly. “I suppose not.”
It did not hurt any less. He should have been able to do more. Something! Anything! If not for the other temporal mages, but at least for Aisha. She deserved as much. She did not deserve this framing or the target on her back.
Why temporal mages, anyway? Why were they the target?
Attacking the arguably least valuable of the mages? To make a statement without dooming the city to destruction? Or maybe as a connection to Aisha being a temporal mage too?
Was there something more here?
For once, Rafiq was clueless. For once, he did not know how to move forward.
Rafiq stood, pushing his chair away.
“I need to go for a walk,” he sighed.
Maybe that would help jog his thoughts. Maybe he just wanted a distraction from all of this. He did not know. He just wanted to breathe. Fresh air would be great.
Shamsuddin nodded. “Do you need me for anything?”
“No, go.”
Shamsuddin was halfway through a bow before righting his posture. “Ah, right.”
He bowed so much out of habit he forgot Rafiq's preference. Or did he forget, and he actually just wanted to bow for him?
Shamsuddin turned to leave. One step. Two steps. Rafiq navigated around his desk to follow.
Then—a gasp.
A sharp metallic knife pierced through Shamsuddin's neck. A gurgling noise followed.
Blood dripped onto the floor, staining the polished stone in splatters of red.
The knife released, Shamsuddin thudded to the floor. Lifeless. Gone.
Rafiq's stomach dropped. His heart pounded in his chest like nothing he had ever felt before. His breathing went ragged. Sweat dripped down his brow.
He looked around for a weapon. Something. Anything! What on Heliux's forsaken hellscape was this primal fear? A true monster had arrived. Something Rafiq stood no chance against. His life was forfeit already.
He picked up the candle. It flickered out.
One, singular, long breath.
The knife was at Rafiq's throat. Pain. The most amount of pain he had ever felt. Intense and piercing and throbbing. Then—nothing.
“Why must you make my job so much harder?" The voice growled.
Rafiq opened his mouth to speak.
Nothing.
The knife released.
Rafiq fell to the floor. Shocked eyes, cold, lifeless.
The darkness consumed.