They were beasts.
Not just warriors. Not rebels. Beasts.
As one might expect of the strongest within this land's Banu Sasan.
Though they were yet to become Jinn, these four were the best a Nadhir could be, an Al-Saif, a Sword of Guidance.
Kabir cleaved the bastards' worlds with every swing of his long sword. Light followed him like a cloak, the ground cracking beneath his feet at each step.
He was fast, not as fast as Malik, of course, but more than fast enough for the tide around him.
Behind him, surrounded by the cohort, Rami never stopped moving.
Her illusions blurred the line between real and fake so well that even the dead seemed to scream twice.
Each arrow shot from her bow danced in the air, either twisting, splitting in two, or hitting targets that weren't even in the arrow's trajectory.
A bandit would duck, grin, think he survived, and then fall to the ground with three holes in his chest.
