Amber, the sunlight crept in. He saw his face.
"Malik?" Samir asked. "I'm surprised you're not out there."
Malik laughed lightly. "Before that, there's something I must do. My strings will be detached soon enough."
Samir examined him. For some reason, he didn't want to believe him. However, he knew he couldn't stop a son from wanting to meet his father.
"Before you go, Malik, can I show you something?" Samir asked.
Malik nodded as Samir loosely hung the book like dangling keys.
"It wouldn't feel right if I hadn't shown you this one way or another."
Silent, Malik only gazed at the golden spine of memories and its thin pages of testaments. To Samir, it seemed like a revelation. But to Malik, it's—
"Just a book. No words or pictures can change that I know all I need to know. I've seen all that I've needed to see," he said.
Malik stepped past him and patted him on the shoulder. He went to open the door that Samir had just closed, slowly turning the knob.
Samir didn't dare to look back. He felt something odd about the impact, like his hand had pierced him at the touch, but only grazed him with compassion.
Nonetheless, Samir walked into the shade, nearly stepping into the sunlight.
Before stepping foot into the day, he took one last glance at the book, holding it like a thread.
Maybe it is just a book. Nobody would want to read a despairful ending, so I think it's time to make a better one.
Thud.
The book fell on the ground, light as a feather. Yet Samir casually strolled into the light, as if he saw a more fitting conclusion for it.
Samir smiled. The whites of his eyes glistened. He hadn't looked back.
I think he was right. Some things are better left unexplained. And if you do have an explanation, maybe it's best to keep it to yourself.
. . .
Meanwhile, Cyrus only took quick glances at the windows on the side of the room. He tried to ignore the beautiful dawn by digging himself deeper into his delusions.
"My puppet will meet the monolith, regardless. He has broken his strings," the old man whispered to himself.
Then—
Creak.
Clink.
Cyrus heard a bond open through the door, whilst the truth rattled in its pocket.
A taller, almost unrecognizable figure, one that used to hold the truth in its hand with pride, now hid it within.
"Father," it spoke.
Cyrus wouldn't turn his head.
It continued, "I need to see paradise."
Sighing, "What you see out there is not paradise," the old man uttered.
"Then what is?" it asked.
"Paradise is much higher, a place where time doesn't matter. And the truth won't matter, because nothing can lie to you anymore," Cyrus uttered.
It scoffed. The truth also laughed in its pocket. "Your paradise is a dream. My paradise is right here."
Finally, Cyrus turned his back. His eyes finally met it.
Its bright gray eyes and half-smile could not be forgotten. However, its voice and composure overwhelmed him, because it loosened its very own chains.
"Malik," Cyrus whispered.
"Yes?" he responded.
". . . Once you decide to step foot out there, you do not belong to me anymore. You belong to them."
. . .
"You will learn one day that although I am deemed cruel to you, cruelty is just another form of mercy out there," he added.
Cyrus began to mumble, "I cannot bind that which unbounded itself. Take my dying words into consideration, son."
Suddenly, Malik's half-smile became a full one.
He nodded as he turned his back on his father. He closed the door as his dull blue eyes stayed planted on his back.
As his father stared at the closed door, a frown sank into his face.
He sniffed, slurring to himself, "Maybe he wasn't made to be tainted. I made him that way, and I can't take it back. If the truth tells him his paradise, then I will oblige. No matter how deep it cuts."
Cyrus stared out, alone.
He faced the wall again, as he couldn't tap his foot any longer.
Meanwhile, Malik frolicked. He strolled in the sunlight as the rest of the crew prepared to settle a dock to finally feel it.
Land.
Malik saw the golden sands simmer in the baking sun, and he wished to bathe in its grace.
A surge of tranquility flooded his heart as the sand lathered in azure swash on the shoreline. The backwash left a darker tone, but the sand appreciated it.
Beyond it, a vast greenery lay in a mystical forest. There was a separation between the brink of sand's sympathy and the dirt's delight.
Malik gave an ear-to-ear grin whilst the crew noticed his excitement with faces of stone.
I remember laying on my bed, crying tears not even the people closest to me would see. But now, it feels like I'm okay with forgetting it for now.
Could waiting for this be worth all the years I spent here? Even the sight of it makes me consider it.
Zayne stood beside him and laughed. "Hah. I haven't seen you smile that bright since she came on board."
"I smiled?" Malik asked. His grin didn't falter. It looked almost forced.
"Ah. You probably don't remember. That was a couple weeks ago. Maybe months, I'm not sure," Zayne said.
As they spoke, the rest of the crew managed to activate a steel plank with a mind of its own. It slowly dropped and aligned itself with the shore, like a divider between the land's sand and the sea's pleas.
The second the plank made contact with the shore, Malik shoved everyone else aside.
He danced on the plank, balancing effortlessly as he held his arms up high. He knew he looked childish, but no insult could corrode his smile.
I can feel it welcoming me. I've finally reached it. No dream can cut it short any longer.
Then—
He leaped, elegantly.
The consoling air embraced him as his body was ready to meet it.
Grains of sand open wide to catch him.
Malik welcomed the golden grains as the amber sun grazed his skin.
His body felt the warm hug of sand consuming all his doubt.
I don't know how long it's been. And I don't mind being ignorant of it. The fact that I'm alive here, despite days, weeks, months, and years, proves that it all came to something. I wouldn't mind if my regular life ended here. I could get used to this.
Swaying, his arms and legs made sand angels. When he got up to see how it looked, he laughed to himself.
It didn't look like an angel at all. In fact, it looked like the shadow of a figure he had seen before, one made of white robes, or was it white hair? It didn't matter. He was in a place where his thoughts didn't need to hurt him anymore.
He decided to continue making another sand angel beside it. As his body danced, a shadowy figure stood above him.
"So is it what you hoped it to be?" Zayne said. His feet loosely gripped the sand as if it burned his heels.
Malik smiled brightly. "My delusions have made it worthwhile in the long run."
Zayne laughed, and he scurried across the sand, racing to reach the dirt of the forest.
From afar, Amaya yelled, "Idiot! Why would you go out there barefoot? Are you hoping to leave this hellhole all scarred?"
Malik heard a good portion of the crew carefully walk on the beach. They walked as if a wrong step would bite them from under.
Hearing them pass him, he opened his eyes.
He saw the azure sky while something warm pressed on his back. Never had he thought that he would see such a beautiful sky with his back meeting something other than a cold steel floor.
When he tilted his head upward, he saw the low seas and the high skies. Such beauty that hurt him in waves, and such wonder that brought hope in clouds.
One day, he would hope to see it all.
But to see all spectrums would be a cost. Would it be a cost he's willing to pay?
. . .
Malik stared out as he slowly got up.
He hadn't looked at the sand angel he just made. He only looked around.
Taking it all in, he exhaled.
. . . I think I'm okay with this.