***
{Inside The Projection}
The room felt smaller every time Malik opened his eyes.
Layla remained asleep on the bed, incredibly pale under the thin blankets.
He stood with his arms loose at his sides, watching her chest rise and fall... counting the seconds left in her hourglass, a breath that went ever shallower.
Droves of people came in from all over Fam Iblis.
One after another, after another, after another.
First, the priests, every one of them in white, muttering spells Malik didn't care to follow.
They had the windows open, allowing fresh air in, while they cooled her with ice. Some incense was also burned, supposedly to help clear her airways.
It did not.
They prodded, examined, and prayed.
Yet nothing they did helped.
Their voices were polite at first—
"My Lord, we believe…"
"My Lord, if I may be frank…"
"My Lord, forgive me, but—"
By the fifth visitor, they stopped dressing it up.
"The Lady's not going to..."
