Chapter 17 Al-Fawra

Words : 998 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

*** {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. Well, almost no one. 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} "Ten..." 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. "Nine..." What the hell did he know about Al-Fawra? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He was a beggar, not one of those map-carrying Seekers. "Eight..." Still, even a guy like him picked up scraps of info here and there, though it was mostly from his... guardian. "Seven..." 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: "Six..." 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. "Five..." 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. "Four..." First layer? A hundred meters down. Second? A kilometer. Third? Ten. And it just kept escalating, numbers climbing as the depths dropped. "Three..." 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. 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. 'Found you.' 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. "Ahahahahahaha!" It was working! 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. "Come on, come on!" 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. "I've got you!" Reaching Sinbad at the last possible second, he caught him with his left arm, crushing the boy to his chest alongside his sister. "Now what?!" 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. It was hopeless. 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. "HA!" And there they went, into another pocket, one that would hopefully send them to the river. To safety. Looking down, he managed a tired chuckle, barely able to keep his eyes open... 'Let's see if I have a next time.' And then—splat! The world went black.

Chapter 17 Al-Fawra

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