***
{Outside The Projection}
“I swear to God, I can’t believe he’s a twelve-year-old.”
“Right? Twelve, my ass. The Sultan’s been acting like he’s pushing ninety since day one.”
“You think… maybe… some dude switched souls with him or something? Like, y’know, transmigrated and all that?
“Hah! Maybee~! Would explain why he’s been treating everyone not related to him like disposable extras.”
For all intents and purposes, the vibe in the hall had shifted.
People were relaxed on the surface, like they were watching some gritty art-house flick instead of a boy breaking himself into pieces to keep his siblings alive.
But it was fake, every bit of it.
Everyone could feel that buzzing tension, coiled somewhere deep, but no one wanted to admit it.
They wordlessly decided to avoid the elephant in the hall.
It was easier to crack jokes than acknowledge how much their hands were shaking—or how bad it felt watching a kid go through Hell.
Because if they did? Their heads might fry like Malik’s apparently had.
So they did what people do: talk. Throw out theories. Crack jokes.
Anything to make it feel a little less raw.
“Bet he’s gonna find water, though.”
“Man, I don’t think he’s gonna make it over that hill, honestly.”
“You kidding? Plot armor, dude. Plot armor!”
Even those who weren’t the talkative type did the same.
But not everyone was joining in.
The ‘named?’
Oh, they weren’t cracking jokes. Not even close.
If anything, the more they watched the peaceful scene before them, the stiffer they got, like someone had poured concrete into their veins.
All had different reasons but they shared one thing.
Fear.
Sure, they had Azeem as their spy and Roya, THE broker, with them in the coalition.
They felt that it was natural that they had succeeded in trapping Malik.
But the more they saw of his actions back then, the more they doubted their success.
…Did the Sultan actually have something to get himself out?
***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik, who just woke up from a quick nap, sat on the ground, legs sprawled out like he had just finished a marathon in the middle of the desert—which, honestly, wasn’t far off.
His head lolled back against the wall, and for the first time since the whole nightmare started, he actually let himself think.
Not about the kids, or the cave, or how he was going to survive the next five minutes.
No, he thought about it.
The whole “return by death” thing.
His lips twisted into a bitter grin.
“Something that I had since birth? A Blessing maybe? God might actually like me…”
He chuckled, unable to even finish that sentence.
“My ass, this shit is a full-blown curse.”
Sure, coming back to life sounded nice on paper.
A second chance to fix things, to survive, to make it all better.
And that was true… mostly.
Because sometimes it wasn’t ‘fixing’ anything—it was just reliving the same horrible moment over and over.
Every death. Every failure. Every mistake.
What if there weren’t any Aether pockets? How would he have survived then?
He wouldn’t have, simple as that.
The cycle would’ve repeated until he lost his mind or until his curse was taken away.
That was a horrifying thought, especially since he had gotten pretty close to reaching that state.
“And the best part?”
He added, talking to no one but the cave walls.
“I can’t even control it. Those checkpoints might even be utterly random.”
Malik felt a shiver run down his spine as a thought couldn’t help but come to his mind.
‘If the checkpoints are random, then what stops them from saving at the completely wrong time?’
‘…’
‘…Nothing.’
‘This curse… I can’t trust it. It’s a tool, yes, but it needs to be my last one.’
Nodding his head at that decision, he glanced at the two little ones.
“They can’t know. There’s no need. Besides… who’s gonna believe me?”
He thought about them for a second, imagining their wide-eyed stares if he ever dropped that truth bomb.
“Yeah, nah, that’d go over real well~.”
Huda would probably call him crazy.
Sinbad would cry, or worse, start asking questions he didn’t have answers to.
Questions like, ‘How did you get it?’ or, ‘Does it affect just our planet or the entire universe?’ or even, ‘If that’s true, then isn’t it a power of a God? After all, only a God can affect another.’
…He would be right with the last one.
“Nope.”
Malik shook his head.
“Not telling ’em. Ever.”
***
{Outside The Projection}
“…That’s it? That’s really why he didn’t tell them?”
“Honestly? Weak. I expected, like, a better reason.”
“Same… Thought it’d be more interesting. Some crazy Flaw. Maybe like, he couldn’t say anything about it without the universe exploding or something.”
“You idiots.”
Someone cursed from the back, his voice interrupting the murmurs.
“Are you all blind or just dumb?”
“What?!”
“You dare?!”
Clicking his tongue, a bearded man stepped forward just enough to make himself known.
He pointed at the projection, at Malik’s face.
“Look! Look at his face!”
Everyone turned back to the projection, where Malik was smiling at his siblings.
But even a child could see it—that smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“He’s sad, you morons… Isn’t it obvious he’s making excuses? You really think he didn’t tell them because of some dumb Flaw or whatever? Nah. He didn’t tell them because he doesn’t want to guilt-trip them.”
“…What?”
The man sighed, rubbing his temples like he couldn’t believe Magi like them were a part of the coalition.
“Think about it. He tells them what he’s really been doing, what it’s costing him, and then what? They feel guilty. They start treating him different. Maybe they even stop leaning on him, and then he’s all alone and feels useless. He’d hate that more than anything.”
Another man next to him began to nod.
“True, true. He’s basically carrying all the emotional baggage so they don’t have to. Think of it like a sacrifice—but, y’know, not the ‘heroic death’ kind. More… emotional.”
Those guys went on and on while watching as the projection hadn’t yet paused.
***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik let out a long sigh, dragging a hand through his tangled hair of gold.
“Alright, pity party over. Focus up. Kids need water, and I’m not dying of thirst in this Godforsaken cave.”
He glanced at the broken gourd sitting beside him.
One jagged piece was still intact, big enough to hold a small amount of water.
“This’ll have to do.”
He grabbed it and hauled himself to his feet.
His knees protested, but he ignored them, squinting into the dark depths of the cave.
“Okay, Malik… Time to be the hero again~.”
His words attempted to make light of the situation, relax his mind a little, but it didn’t work, not one bit.
Worry was obvious on his face as he trudged forth through the cave.
It stretched on like the throat of some ancient beast—tight and choking in some parts, then yawning open into massive, jagged spaces that made one feel like an ant under a giant’s foot.
The deeper he went, the cooler the air got, slick and clammy like someone breathing down his neck.
Every so often, he’d hear a distant screech or the scrape of something shifting in the dark.
Each sound ricocheted off the stone walls, turning whispers into roars and making his skin crawl with goosebumps.
It certainly wasn’t the kind of place one would go for fun.
Of course, not unless they were, well, a Seeker.
Malik pressed on, and after a few minutes, he started noticing little signs—tiny droplets clinging to the walls, the floor slightly darker, like it was drinking in the moisture.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him going.
Minutes stretched, and his throat continued to burn like he’d been swallowing fistfuls of sand with every step.
He rubbed at his neck, trying not to think about just how dry his mouth was or how heavy the air felt in his chest.
Every other minute, he tilted his head, straining his ears for the sound of water, something, anything.
At first, there was nothing.
Just his own breathing, the screeches, and the soft shuffle of his sandals.
Then—plink—was that a drip?