Malik drifted through that strange calm above the world, where his name meant something larger than life itself and nothing at once. Here, there was no wind, no air, no weight. Only silence—eternal silence—and him, floating, an afterthought of a man beyond most men.
He didn't want to think about his people.
Especially not about her.
Safira.
No.
He would not.
Even now, after all that... after embodying that moment, her moment, her goodbye, her weight in his life, his heart still did that little twist every time her name came close.
Despite everything, that softness in him never died, and he hated it.
Even if their relationship was over... that did not change. Rather, it had only gotten stronger, especially now that he accepted who he was.
That soft spot—it was the one thing in him that refused to be carved out by war or betrayal.
So, to stop himself from feeling for her, he simply didn't think about her.
He thought about the others instead.
Faqir... his brother.
