I'm just. I'M SO SORRY ;_; I've just been super busy with life, and I've had this chapter kinda half finished and stored away(just like all of them D:) And just forced myself to sit down and finish it today. I can't honestly say when the next one is coming out, but I have remembered my whole idea for this story, and if I can pull it off/finish it, I still think it'll be great. Enjoy!

Malik woke to the cheering of mentors and novices alike, a fitting start to his terrible morning. Malik groaned, the sunlight streaming through his window stinging his eyes.

"What time is it?...Altair?" Malik moaned groggily.

Malik looked to the side, only to find Altair's bed empty. Utterly confused, Malik rolled out of bed. It was odd to say the least, because most days, Allah himself could not get Altair up before Malik.

Then, it finally clicked.

Today was the skills testing, and Malik was late. Horrifically late. He mentally cursed Altair for not waking him up, and scrambled to get his uniform on before dashing out towards the training grounds.

Pushing his way though the cheering crowd, Malik struggled to take his place among the participants. Still somewhat disorientated, he searched the crowd of faces for Altair. No luck. Malik fought to even stay upright in the jostling crowd, and stood on his toes to get a better view of the training course. He cursed his height, being slightly below average, with little to no hope of improving, now being at the age of eighteen. A horn sounded, and the crowd cheered with added vigor. Malik, having quite enough, pushed with annoyance through the people jeering and shouting. Some gave him dirty looks, others elbowed back. Nonetheless, he eventually made it to the front just as the current course run was ending. To his astonishment, the Grand Master himself was standing on a slightly elevated platform, carefully observing each participant. Malik's breath hitched in his throat. The pressure was on.

Before he knew it, it was his turn. He was shoved toward the start by the crowd, before meeting his competitor.

Altair.

Malik inwardly groaned. Of course. Of course it had to be his best friend. How the hell did Altair always before the source of his misfortune?

The roars of the crowd grew, and Malik struggled to keep his composure. Finally, the horn sounded, and they were off.

The course featured a jumble of planks and beams, both of which looked impossibly thin. Leaping and running, Malik put his mind over matter, and performed what he had been trained to do since birth. Landing his precision jumps perfectly, he dove through the strategically placed window. Pleased with himself, his happiness vanished when he realized Altair was ahead of him. He grit his teeth and pushed on, and they both made it to the tightrope simultaneously. Malik barely managed to step on first, and was relieved to see the finish line in reach when-

He tripped.

No, Malik didn't trip, Altair tripped him.

'But why?' Malik thought, plummeting to the ground.

Flashing in and out of consciousness, Malik watched as Altair hesitated, peering over the edge at Malik. The yelling around him increased, telling him to go, and leave Malik.

So he did.

Malik had barely registered what had happened, before finally fading into unconsciousness.

When Malik woke, all he could feel was hate, betrayal, and pain. So much pain. Someone had brought him to the physician, which was another blow to his ego. The medic walked in, holding a flask, and running behind him, came Kadar.

"MALIK! You're awake! Are you okay? How do you feel? Will you be alright? Will he be alright?" He said, turning to the medic.

"You're giving me a worse headache than I already had. Of course I'll be fine." Malik grumbled, sitting up.

"Oh...Sorry." Kadar said sheepishly.

"A few bruised bones, you may return to your quarters tonight if you wish. Here's something to ease the pain." The medic said, handing Malik the flask.

"Many thanks." Malik sniffed the foul smelling liquid, wrinkling his nose. He handed it to Kadar, and began to pack up his things. He would return to his room tonight, and put Altair into his place once and for all.

He took the flask back from Kadar as they walked down the halls, dumping the contents into the gardens below. Kadar opened his mouth to protest, but Malik shot him a withering look, to which he clamped his mouth shut. They stopped outside of Malik and Altair's shared room, and Kadar, still bubbly as ever, spoke up.

"Come to my room if you need anything, okay? That was a really bad fall, and I don't-" He started.

"Yes, yes, I know. Please do not remind me." Malik replied, exhausted. "You can go back now, I'll be fine."

"Okay. But remember brother, you're never too tough to need help!" He chirped, leaving before Malik could disapprove.

Malik sighed, pushing open the door and walking into the room. He was relieved to not find Altair there, boasting about his victory. Malik placed his things down, and collapsed onto his bed. Bad idea. Pain shot through his spine, and he moaned in agony.

Malik was surprised by a muffled yelp that came from the corner of the room. He rolled over, scanning the area. His eyes widened at the sight before him.

Altair sat there, curled up in a fetal position, robes bloodied and his eye black. Malik could see that he had been crying, and probably hadn't moved from there since. Malik hesitated. He had walked in fully intent of giving Altair a piece of his mind, but...seeing him like that, he couldn't. He coldly rolled back over. It didn't excuse him of his actions.

'Serves him right, after all he's done.' Malik thought darkly.

He wouldn't realize until years later that he hadn't even cared enough to ask what happened.