Chapter Forty Seven

Khalifa never called them sigils. He felt weird whenever he did that. Because those things weren't normal, they were a stigma he wanted to do about with.

But he couldn't because he was one of those stigmas. His was the power of observation, and he found it useless. It didn't change anything, neither did it make things better. He was right where he started, unable to do anything.

The very idea of sigils started making his stomach turn when he was a child. And the day that made him decide to be a bystander.

"When you grow up, Khalifa, do not forget the world is unkind. Help, but only when it benefits you," Khalifa's father held a bewildered Khalifa by his shoulder, and Khalifa listened, even though he didn't like the subject of discussion.

"Musa, stop traumatizing our son. Tell him good things, as other parents do," his mother chided his father, who had the grace to look abashed.

"But why, dad? Why should I not help?" He asked, a six-year-old child learning the rudiments of the world.

"