The Arithmetic of Annihilation

"...Go back to whatever celestial drain you crawled out of, you overgrown oil lamp."

The sultan chuckled, low and velvety, like silk dragged across broken glass.

"Ah, the bite of the fox."

His presence surged—an invisible flood pressing against every wall, every ribcage. The very stones of the castle groaned. It was not just power. It was dominion. The god held the belief that the dimension was already his.

Even the shadows recoiled, slipping along the floor like frightened animals.

During the sultan's reign, not even sleepwalkers dared to dream. He had blanketed entire dimensions in a haze of dread. His stories were rebels' orders to be put to death and monsters' lullabies.

Claude's wings folded tighter around Ru—a trembling cradle of light. The shimmer of his feathers dulled, bleeding into colorless white, as though the sultan's nearness unmade beauty.

Then—

The sultan exhaled.

The air warped.

The chandeliers above had spiderwebs of glass.