***
{Inside The Projection}
The steady rhythm of Malik's breath filled a luxurious room as he sat cross-legged in its center. His body was still, his eyes were closed, and the faint burning halo of his Aether circulation curled around him in a shimmer so faint it could have been mistaken for dust caught in the morning light.
Layla stirred in the bed behind him, her hair messy, face buried half into the pillow.
Her arm reached out lazily, brushing against his side of the bed before pulling away. Half-awake, she rolled off, took a few steps forward, leaned down, and kissed his forehead, the touch brief and absentminded.
"Mmm…"
She yawned into the crook of her elbow, already shuffling toward the bathroom, its door clicking shut behind her.
Malik didn't move.
A heartbeat later came an expected knock.
It was polite in sound, but the way the door swung open told another story—one of habit, of someone who had been told more than once they didn't need to wait for permission.
