“One hundred years...”
With conviction and love, He served the Family for one hundred years.
One hundred years perhaps wasted. Was there a lesson to be learned?
For three years he mourned, perched on his throne motionless like a statue. Little light entered the darkened hall where he sat. Dust settled over him. Webs formed in and around his limbs. None were permitted to disturb his mourning.
On rare nights, when the twilight of the full moons entered his palace, he would rise. “Yaaaaaarrrrr!” The piercing scream would fill the halls. Dust and debris on and around him would disintegrate from the violent heat caused by his outburst. And once again, he would fall back on to his throne, until the next outburst. His head down, crown on lap, too heavy of a burden.
For one hundred years he served the Family. And after one hundred years of loyalty, he was repaid by treason. Men from the Family, from high to low positions, plotted against him.
For three years he mourned, motionless like a statue. With the exception of the occasional outburst.
A few days after the third year passed, he finally stood. Seven feet, four inches tall. Chiselled jaw. Lean muscular body. Skin pure onyx black. Pupils large, irises bright golden orange, dancing like explosions of fire inside a volcano.
His arms and legs spread out as he flexed and stretched his celestial body. The vibrational frequency released the dust and cobwebs on his golden armour to charge off.
He was tired of mourning. Retribution was his new temperament. And for good reason.
Arms out, hands stern like knives pointing outward, he rose two feet in the air. His long dark cape barely kissed the black and gold marble floors beneath.
Fashioned in blackened metal armour, His loyal servants of a thousand years more gathered in succession of two lines. All bowed to His Majesty's greatness as he glided through His aisle of servants.
He exited the throne room and entered the war room. At the centre was a cubic shaped box draped over by black velvet with gold embroidery. He lifted the fabric slightly and moved his lips close towards the smoky-dark metallic box. He whispered softly onto it. He kissed it gently. He released the fabric from his fingers and watched it gently drape back over the box.
It was done. Two hundred and thirty three males, men and boys, from the treasonous House burst into flames and perished from the lands.
It was done. He walked back to his throne. The King sat down for another four years meditating on the movements of a thousand years into the future.
King Bilal had served the Bawaaba Family for one hundred years. The established peace between the God King and the House of the Great Family was built upon the foundations of respect, trust, and mutual admiration. The love and loyalty between the God King and the Family was known throughout the heavens and lands. Foolishly, in the last twelve years, the Family plotted against Him and His Kingdom. Men are weak.
Why did they betray him?
On the dawn of the eighty-eighth year of their peace, Enayatt, the Alpha-Head of the Family had become weak and ill. He felt shame for his weakness and did not reveal his ailments to his men or the King. Enayatt seeked longevity, and in desperation, he made a deal with an old Jinn Sorcerer from the Aljahim Realm. The Sorcerer infused dark magic into the Alpha’s blood giving him supernatural abilities, while at the same time, thinning out his humanity. As Enayatt spoke to others in his Family, his breath contaminated the men in his House. In time, as the Sorcerer plotted, all the male of the Great Family were infected. Both they, and their seeds became unholy. Jealousy and lust for power filled their souls and emboldened their Egos. More they became outwardly pious. More their hearts and souls fell into bondage, controlled from a distance by The Great Jinn Sorcerer.
After three years of mourning, the God King finally stood up and did what had to be done. He annihilated all the men, and once again, purified the lands.
Was there a lesson to be learned?
It was decreed that men are weak. Patriarchies of houses minor and great were dismantled. Nine thousand years of matriarchs ruled the lands.
The Great Jinn Sorcerer plotted patiently.