Requestor: TwistedCelestial

"Fantasy, Horror, Desert city, Dystopian, Anti-hero, Magic, Optimistic, Shallow, Angry at Self, Kill the city leader for their dad, Theme idk up to you. "

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The sounds of his voice echoed through the city's dusty streets as the young man moved through the alley. The voice echoed out, "My people, today we shall have our victory."

Peeking at the lined streets, he could see the projected image of the man standing up on the platform. A foul visage in robes, the man continued, "It is your sacrifice that brings us here this day. It is our divine right, but we got here through your hard work."

The youth then shifted his long shawl, pulling up the brown face mask, and swiftly made his way into the crowd. "We have come far. We have lost much, but we have gained so much more. The barbaric hordes will today be crushed under our great force."

The heat made the get up awful, but it was what he had to wear. Making his way past the ragged people who stared up in fear at the great images of that man. Blue garbed men with staff stood staring into the crowds, but paid little mind to those who moved about. It didn't matter if they stopped and watched, for one could not look anywhere without seeing the tyrant. His voice would reach the deepest hiding places.

"My people, you have suffered for this. Take pride in it. I have led you well, have I not? No longer must you be afraid of the foreign threats. Our soldiers have repelled them. Our magi have cut out the corruption in our lands. Our priests have brought you the divine word. We flourish, our enemies wither," The Tyrant spoke on, his arms moving and gesturing dramatically.

The young man continued, careful to not look out of place. Past each of the earthen made buildings, their storefronts quiet as the workers started on. The sun beating on the covered heads of the people. He stopped and gazed around, turning down a street.

Pausing, he repeated the words in his mind looking sign to sign, shop to shop. Finding the one he needed, he watched the blue robed men. Once they were not looking, he silently slipped back into the alley and stood by the back of the building. His eyes looked up and down the alley, slowly as to not draw much attention had there been any. He tapped the rickety door in a soft musical pattern. From under the door, a small package was slid.

"Then, we felled the rebels who sought to stop us from enacting our glorious work. They feared the Eye of God. Yet they could not stop the tower from rising. There, today, shall we finally truly claim victory. With it, none may escape it's gaze." The man's voice echoed as the guy grabbed up the package and slid it into his clothes. Time mattered here, for they had only one shot.

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Back out into the crowd, he moved slowly towards the destination. As he got closer, the blue robed soldiers became more frequent. The voice went on, "With this great work, we shall be able to divine all those who stand against us in their heart. An end to this heresy will soon be upon us."

He kept his head down, moving into the alley again. Another shop and the same rhythm tapped on the door. The door opened and the elderly woman ushered him in. She handed him a fine outfit and pushed him into a small closet, whispering, "Be fast. The others are ready."

Quickly he changed into the new, nicer outfit. He unwrapped the package and looked at the artifact held within. A small wand of gold. He gripped it, muttering, "God, hasten my steps."

Once fully dressed, he tucked the tool in his sash. The elder woman let him out the front door, giving me a forlorn stare as the young man made his way along the street. It felt to him that every one of the blue robed men were staring at him as the voice spoke on still, but the youth began to block it from his thoughts.

He stopped finally and fully before the great wall of the palace. The well dressed people gave him no mind as he waited amongst them. There were two lines of the blue robed men here blocking the crowd and leaving a cleared path along the road. The tyrant kept droning on and on as time passed. Then finally, the voice rang out, saying, "Now, my people, I must make my way to the tower. Rejoice, for it is this day our victory is achieved."

Silence fell like a heavy blanket over the streets, the youth trying to keep his heart from pounding. Eventually, another thudding began. Around a corner came the first of the soldiers. Spears in hand, they marched in unison down the road in black armor, the crowd dead silent. Thud went there feet, thud went his heart. The seconds crawled on, slow enough to feel like they mocked him.

Then came the blue robed men, their staffs held in each hand. Closer did the tyrant draw, one by one, the columns passed. The guards lining the road glared into the crowd, as if daring them to make a movement. Then, the horse drawn carriage appeared.

Slowly, the thudding of his heart grew. This was it. There he was, sitting atop a golden seat at the back, smiling. The young man whipped the device from his pocket, shouting, "For Asim!"

Instantly, the blue robed magi slammed their staves into the ground, only to be confused for a moment as nothing happened. The small wand in the youths hand glowed still as he held it up. There was only a split moment of silence. Then, chaos broke out, as the soldiers began to run towards him. The crowds began to panic, running every which way. The youth turned and began to follow the crowd, holding up the magical device.

The Tyrant was staring at him, confusion on his face. Guards were trying to pull him from the cart, but he wouldn't budge, trying to understand what had just happened. Then, horror rose on his face as his realization came. He began to shout, "He's stopping the barrier! He's stopping the-"

His words were cut short as an arrow struck the Tyrant through the throat. His soldiers watched in shock as the man fell from his seat and into the street, blood pooling as he gripped at the arrow.