Hours later, Malik stood in front of a stronghold.
It didn't look all that special to the colorblind. Just another big fortress dug into the side of a canyon, like a lot of the ones he'd passed—stone walls, heavy gates, towers poking out like teeth.
But to a man who could see color?
They'd see that this one had something unique.
Everything was yellow.
Though, not Shamsshine yellow or anything pretty—more like piss-stained yellow.
Now he knew why they called it Al-Saffra; it was quite fitting.
He first figured someone had painted it that way for some dumb symbolic reason.
But no—by the looks of things, the ore in the canyon walls had been the cause.
The same hue was baked into the damn rock.
It was almost ridiculous.
Even the banners looked like they'd been soaking in turmeric for a week.
Well, besides that ridiculous-looking oddity, from what he was told, this place was stacked.
The 'rebels' had numbers. And not just foot soldiers—they had real defenses.
