{Outside The Projection}
The hall went quiet, quieter than it'd ever been.
And in that silence? There was a mess of disbelief, shock, relief, and... something else.
Something no one could really put into words.
Because, sticking to his usual trend, Azeem found it pretty damn easy:
"Guess the Sultan ain't all bad after all."
A collective sigh escaped the crowd, and the tension eased, but only a little.
Malik had saved the kids, sure, but all he'd done was drag them into even more danger.
Normally, they'd just write off anyone in their situation as good as dead, but now?
They couldn't. Not when they were right in front of them, alive.
Well, one was, at least.
Either way, nobody had a clue what was coming next—not even Huda, the one who'd actually lived through it.
Whatever was about to go down was bound to be way worse than anything they could've dreamed up—and probably a lot more disturbing too.
{Inside The Projection}
Malik held on to Huda with all the strength he could muster, his arm digging her body into his chest.
His eyes stayed locked upward, his back taking the full force of the wind and that swirling Aether energy—or whatever it was called—whipping around them as they plummeted through the air.
What the hell did he know about Al-Fawra? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
He was a beggar, not one of those map-carrying Seekers.
Still, even a guy like him picked up scraps of info here and there, though it was mostly from his... guardian.
That old man had hammered this stuff into Malik's head like his life depended on it—which, surprise, it actually did.
"You'll thank me one day, kid. Probably when you're about to die."
And here he was. About to die.
'Guess you did one thing right, pops.'
Malik showed a soft smile and continued the countdown:
His voice barely rose above the roar of the wind, and it wasn't only because he was tearing through it but also because of the Devil's Maw itself.
Al-Fawra—yeah, it devoured all, but it also pushed out the remains, an abyss surging with Aether like a living, breathing thing.
If that was all it did, Malik and the others wouldn't have made such a big deal about dropping in.
But, of course, this was just the warm-up. A little teaser before the real nightmare began.
This abyss wasn't just any hole. It sat smack in the middle of their planet—a pit so deep, people swore it punched right down to the planet's core.
It was like a hellish layer cake, each "slice" deeper and deadlier than the last.
First layer? A hundred meters down. Second? A kilometer. Third? Ten. And it just kept escalating, numbers climbing as the depths dropped.
The planet wasn't just big; it was massive. Twelve moons circled the damn thing, and its gravity could crush most people visiting from the outside.
So how was it that Malik was still falling? The definition of 'meter' didn't change, did it?
No, it didn't, and if his countdown indicated anything, it was that certain laws of physics were messed up around here, most certainly due to that Aether.
With a deep breath, Malik clamped Huda even tighter against his chest.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
A raw, guttural scream ripped from his throat as pain exploded across his back.
Thin lines of Aether carved through his skin like a whip, shredding his already ruined robes into pieces.
His blood splattered and streamed above him, carried by the turbulent wind.
Malik bit down on his lip hard enough to taste copper, cutting the scream short as he twisted midair to face the ground.
They had finally entered the first layer's atmosphere.
Now, it was no longer dark, swapped out for a green forest stretching forever.
Many thick canopies swayed gently below, surrounded by hills of grass and jagged rocks, all next to a wide river, illuminated by a lighthouse that neared the darkness above.
But Malik wasn't in the mood to admire the view.
He had way bigger problems.
Malik angled himself forward, like a hawk diving towards its prey, inching his body closer to the free-falling boy.
And Sinbad? His arms flapped uselessly, making him spin like a falling plane with a broken wing.
"You fucking kidding me?!"
The kid appeared to be out cold, even though no injuries could be seen on his body.
Their entry into the first layer must've knocked him out.
"C'MON! Don't make me work harder than I already am!"
Though he was moving as straight as one could in his situation, Malik's mind was spinning.
Every second of his fall made him lose even more hope that they'd survive.
He needed to save the kid. He had to. But he saw no way to do so.
Malik could either head for the river without him or try to catch him and die alongside him.
Yesterday, he would've picked the former, but after he had already abandoned him once? Never.
"I'm not doing it again!"
But, just as he was about to angle himself further down, something strange happened.
His whole body slowed, like he'd just hit some thick, invisible viscous liquid.
He felt himself pushing through it, fighting against the drag—until, out of nowhere, before he could even react, it shot him out like a bullet.
Malik barely managed to snag Huda as she slipped out of his grip for a split second, his heart damn near leaping out of his throat.
Pulling her back in close, he glanced below and noticed something.
He was much closer to Sinbad now.
A small smile crept onto his face.
It felt like someone had just opened a new door in his mind.
And in that split second of clarity, Malik knew what to do.
Though he didn't know exactly what they were, he could guess they had something to do with Aether.
More importantly, he knew they made him fast.
Fast enough for him to catch Sinbad and reach the river without sacrifice.
Those floating pockets would be his vehicle to victory!
"Alright, let's see if I can find another."
Instincts took over, the same ones that had carried him through a lifetime of begging, scrapping, and surviving.
Malik's eyes darted around, scanning for those near-invisible pockets of Aether.
There—just at the edge of his vision.
No time to overthink. He dove again.
This time, he didn't just fall through it; no, he adjusted midair just before impact, angling himself to a fair distance below Sinbad.
A faint pulse rippled behind him, and then—boom—he was shot forward, streaking like a comet through the air.
He was getting closer, Sinbad's limp body finally in his direct line of sight.
Malik felt like a tattered kite being whipped around in the wind, but he didn't care.
He needed one more... just one.
The ground was rushing up fast, and his frantic eyes caught nothing...
Nothing except one lone pocket hovering just above a few trees.
Malik knew exactly what he had to do.
Angling himself like a falling arrow, he dove even harder toward the ground, closing the distance in seconds.
When he was just a meter or so above the tree, his eyes locked on the pocket.
Then, at the last possible moment, he leaned left, lining himself up with Sinbad's trajectory once more.
Malik pierced through the pocket, stretching it like it was nothing, and shot out, way faster than any before it.
Reaching Sinbad at the last possible second, he caught him with his left arm, crushing the boy to his chest alongside his sister.
Malik shouted, his voice hoarse and desperate.
They were going against gravity, flying up, way higher than he wanted to be.
It should've been a blessing, his one chance at survival, but no.
Unfortunately, the river was more than ten meters away, and there was no pocket around them, at least none they could reach.
But even with everything looking like a lost cause, he wasn't ready to give up.
He couldn't, not when he held responsibility for these kids' lives.
"At least I'll save you..."
Malik held them tight, and then, using the momentum of his fall, he twisted his body, making him spin.
With every ounce of energy that he had left in him, he threw them forward.
And there they went, into another pocket, one that would hopefully send them to the river.
Looking down, he managed a tired chuckle, barely able to keep his eyes open...
'Let's see if I have a next time.'
The world went black.