The ascent from the labyrinth took longer than the descent, or perhaps it only felt that way. The stone stairs spiraled upward in silence, the oppressive weight of the depths gradually lifting with every step. Malcolm led the way, the Cosmic Eater a living second skin beneath his hoodie—black tendrils occasionally flickering across his arms before retreating, subdued but ever-present. The power hummed in his veins like a second heartbeat, vast and hungry, yet held firmly in check by the discipline he had forged in prayer and battle.
No one spoke until the faint glow of lantern light appeared ahead—the sealed gate reopening at the scholars' distant recitation.
They emerged into the vast circular hall beneath the Great Minaret. The Upper Chorus waited, faces etched with quiet hope. Imam Yusuf stepped forward first, eyes widening slightly at the change in Malcolm—the subtle shift in his silhouette, the faint cosmic sheen in his crimson gaze.
**Imam Yusuf:** "Assalamu ʿalaikum. You return victorious."
**Malcolm:** (returning the greeting) "Wa ʿalaikum assalam. The Necromancer is gone. The heart of the corruption is broken."
A murmur of alhamdulillah rippled through the scholars. Shaykha Amina approached, her expression a mix of relief and concern as she studied the faint black veins threading Malcolm's skin.
**Amina:** "And the price?"
**Malcolm:** (quietly) "A power I took from the enemy. It tried to consume me. But remembrance held it back."
She nodded slowly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Then keep remembering, akhi. Power is only a tool—the heart decides if it builds or destroys."
The team was led upward into the prayer hall. Dawn light filtered through the mashrabiya windows, painting geometric patterns across the marble floor. The wounded had thinned; many had recovered enough to return home or join cleanup efforts above. Volunteers moved with quiet efficiency, preparing suhoor for those who had fasted through the night of battle.
Word of their return spread quickly. Hunters and civilians gathered at the edges of the hall, eyes wide with awe and gratitude. A young boy—no older than ten—approached Malcolm shyly, holding out a small embroidered ta'wiz.
**Boy:** "For protection, uncle. My mother made it."
Malcolm knelt, accepting it with both hands. "Jazakallah khayran, little brother. May Allah protect you always."
As he tied it around his wrist, the Cosmic Eater stirred faintly—then stilled, as though acknowledging the blessing.
Later, on the minaret's upper balcony overlooking Neo-Eldoria, the team finally allowed themselves to breathe.
The city was changed.
The perpetual rain had stopped. Breaks in the cloud cover revealed patches of actual sky—pale blue, streaked with the first true sunrise in months. Hover-traffic moved again, though cautiously. Corps towers still stood, but many bore scars from the siege: shattered glass, undead remnants being cleared by Guild teams. Yet life persisted—street vendors reopening, children playing in cleared plazas, the adhan echoing from districts beyond the Minaret Ward.
Kira leaned on the railing, her augmented arms finally powered down. "We did it. The plague's source is gone. Reports say new risings have stopped completely."
Elara gazed eastward, silver hair catching the light. "But the rifts the Necromancer opened… some may linger. And the devils that fled…"
Gronk grunted, hammer resting beside him. "Then we hunt them. One by one."
Malcolm stood apart, watching the city he had once only survived in. The Cosmic Eater whispered faintly—offers of endless strength, visions of a Neo-Eldoria remade under his protection. He closed his eyes, reciting quietly until the voice faded.
When he opened them, the team was watching him.
**Malcolm:** "This power… it's a test. Every day. But I've carried worse burdens alone. Now I don't have to."
He turned to them fully.
**Malcolm:** "The city will need rebuilding. Not just walls—hearts. People lost faith in the Guild, in each other. We can show them something better."
Kira raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about staying? Leading?"
**Malcolm:** (small smile) "Not leading. Serving. The Minaret Ward stood when everything else fell. Maybe it's time the rest of the city learned why."
Elara's eyes softened. "A new kind of hunt."
Gronk cracked a rare grin. "Smashing corruption with hammers and duʿāʾ? I'm in."
Below, the morning adhan rose—clear, strong, joined by voices across the districts. Malcolm felt the call in his bones.
He stepped forward, placing a hand on the balcony rail.
**Malcolm:** "The shadows are still out there. But so is the light. And we carry both now."
The Cosmic Eater rippled once across his shoulders—like a cloak settling into place—then vanished beneath the fabric of his hoodie, waiting. Not a curse. A responsibility.
Neo-Eldoria stretched before them: scarred, imperfect, but alive.
And for the first time in years, Malcolm felt something he had almost forgotten.
Hope.
To be continued...