Looking over the dinner table, he saw where the voice came from.
However, he wasn't able to let go of the blade in his palm. Slowly, his feet creaked on the floorboards as he sat in front of her.
The dim light of the stars gave him a clear view of her. She looked as elegant as ever, though her eyes were covered in bandages.
Malik whispered, "Kaya." He turned his head so as not to wake the others.
Then, her mouth opened. "Malik, I'm sorry. I haven't made it up to you."
Raising an eyebrow, he interjected, "What do you mean, Kaya? If anything, I should be the one to make it up to you. I stranded you there. I'm the reason you're in this position."
Continuing, looking down, "As long as you're okay, that's enough to make it up to me," he murmured.
Malik closed his eyes as he tried to de-escalate the situation. He thought it'd be okay as long as she didn't see the events that unfolded at the ritual.
Kaya rocked in her chair. "You don't understand... I haven't been honest with you."
"About what? Not everyone is honest all the time," Malik asked.
. . .
"All I've done is bring out the worst in you. Ever since I went on that ship, everything turned for the worse," Kaya muttered gently.
"You never made it worse, Kaya. You're the reason I get to be on land," Malik struggled to spill his words, as his hand gripped the handle of the bayonet.
Kaya leaned forward weakly. "But what has that done for the crew? Your father? Your once-normal life?"
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced Malik. He made an inaudible gasp as he wondered where it came from. His grey eyes turned bright white as they rolled back in his head.
He panted, then straightened himself. "It broke the cycle."
Kaya sniffed, avoiding tears staining the bandage. "But then we're in a new cycle. A cycle of mistakes." She coughed. "These people are not joyous. They're evil. Only a few seem kind, but they still never stop smiling like the rest."
Malik's eyes widened, and his arms trembled. "They're not evil." He gulped. "They're heading in the wrong direction, that's all." He smiled as if she could see it.
"Malik. I'm tired of keeping things secret from you. Why must you try to keep it secret from me?" Kaya muttered.
He tilted his head, clueless, but hoping she didn't know.
"I saw the ritual," she spoke coldly. "It may not be the crowd, nor the guards, but somebody in there is pulling the strings."
Malik rushed his words without thinking. "I pulled the strings. I'm the reason all this happened."
Kaya laughed lightly. "You can't even pull your own strings. I saw the spears target you."
"But a miracle saved me," Malik asserted.
"...Yeah. A miracle," Kaya uttered.
Under his breath, Malik tried not to laugh for some reason. Yet he kept a blank expression.
"You shouldn't feel any pressure to make it up to me, Kaya. After all, we both have our debts scarred into us. Maybe it's time we forgive our debts, no?" Malik said calmly.
He laid his hand on Kaya's. "My debt was paid with my naivety, and your debt was paid through your ability."
Kaya didn't have the strength to move her hand, but slurred her words. "H-how did you know my injury was from my ability?"
Hesitating, "I made the assumption. I've seen your eyes injured from using it before," he said, slurring slightly.
The room stayed silent as she hadn't spoke for several seconds.
Then, she tensed. "But are you sure it was you who saw it?"
Kaya remembered the old grip around her neck in that red room, and the blood pouring from her sockets. She had met its piercing blade before. Is she speaking to it now?
"It's always me, Kaya." Malik smiled beneath his words.
She eased her breath at his words. She didn't feel golden threads. Instead, she felt a grey embrace hug her tightly, refusing to let go.
"How can I know you aren't lying, Malik? Please, I want to trust you." Kaya gulped. "I can't see your thoughts nor your face, but I hear your words. Please, tell me you mean it."
"If I was lying, then I'd reap what I sowed a long time ago, long before I met you—" Malik's grin curved sharper, but he bit his tongue.
"I hope when I see you again, you'll be the same. I hope they haven't changed you," Kaya smiled.
"The sea never changed me in all those years I spent in it. What can a conniving tribe do?" Malik laughed.
They both laughed, disingenuous.
Kaya shifted the conversation. "Do you see the stars now? What are they like?"
Malik looked out the window. "They're as hopeful as ever, never burning out. And you see the darkness, don't you? What is it like?"
She giggled. "Close your eyes, and you'll find out."
. . . .
Earlier, Malik was going to step forward to Kaya until—
"You've let yourself be defeated."
The voice crept to him as he sat before her.
Then the atmosphere changed. His mind was all he saw. A black void surrounded his body, and over a million blades pinched him from every angle.
"You blame yourself for so many things out of your control. Eventually, you blame them on me. You'll soon learn that blame is a double-edged blade."
What would you know about the pain I've felt? How do you have the right to act like you don't carry one bit of shame in your heart?
Stuck in his mind, he had to spectate through the outside Malik's eyes as he spoke. Both of them did.
"You are fighting against the indifference of this world, yet also fighting yourself. Those are battles you cannot win."
And how do you expect me to win any of them when you like to control me, like everything else?
Malik's eyes widened, staring into the black abyss.
"I never control you, only direct you," the bayonet uttered. "I am the blade that points, but am I the person that stabs with it?"
Yet you're the one who's so fixated on my wrongdoings, and you hide the ones I should know.
"I contain what you cannot bear... If I show you, are you able to bear it now?"
Before Malik could respond—
. . .
Whirr.
Malik's eyes rolled to the back of his head, turning bright white, and an asphyxiating pain consumed his body. Even the Malik on the outside mimicked the motion.
He made no audible sound so as not to disturb Kaya, so he withstood the agony, veiled from her by her bandages.
Malik saw it. He was shouting at the crowd—or was he shouting at everything else? He was watching a prior memory, one he could not alter.
He held his hands up high as the blade in his pocket applauded in the darkness.
Everyone surrounded him. He saw their faces. Their joy of survival. Their fear of death. Their grief for the lost. Their forgiveness of the participants.
Zayne patted Malik on the back, and then the golden borders surrounding the ritual evaporated into the air.
A golden hue of sparkles emanated in the sky as the leather-armored guards waved for the men to come with them.
As the rest went, Malik stayed. Even Zayne looked back, but knew he had made his choice. He remained standing as the crowd dispersed. Time passed.
Then two guards came. They picked up the body, but stared at Malik intensely. Malik pondered endlessly.
The bodies began to rot. Bloated. Red. As if resisting the loss of blood.
At the corner of his eye, he saw it. A chef. Beside the chef, a cart with pots, knives, and utensils.
Until—
"Go." A guard said, his pale head lowered.
His curved grin made Malik move like a piece on the board. He walked away. He saw the smile but not the full face.
It felt like a golden wall had pushed him to walk. Or was it a blue one?
Passing trees, the massive border wall of the tribe, the cold breeze—
What were they carrying the bodies away for? Why were there chefs? Where does the food from this land come from?
Malik read his own thoughts like scripture from the other perspective, unable to change what happened.
He walked the same path the crowd had entered through. It was lonely now. No cheering. Only the distant cackle of a seagull.
Suddenly, something pressed against his back. Something sharp and wet.
Pinching his spine, he arched and clenched his fists. A hand rested on his shoulder as someone whispered in his ear.
"Follow the crowd and forget what you just saw. You are not obligated to eat our delicacies."
Malik saw him in his peripheral.
Guan Sui.
The bloody spear tip pressed against him. Now he was on the receiving end.
Malik obeyed. His empty eyes scanned the scenery as he marched forward.
For how long could he forget?
. . .
Later, Zayne and Malik exited the restaurant of the tribal palace. It was silent for a moment.
Zayne rambled about the delicious meat. Malik stayed silent.
Then—
Gurgle . . .
The sound of something rabid near the restaurant. Even if he looked around, the stars would not show it.
It sounded like chewing.
Zayne hadn't heard it.
Malik did.
Am I overthinking? Did I hear that right? Is there a reason no one is outside?
As Zayne spoke, Malik only heard the sound of flesh being torn by long teeth.
. . . .
The memory flashed past Malik like a flashbang, yet it felt lived.
"You wouldn't forget it, so I took that memory for you, for our sake."
Why would you hide something like that from me? How can you let that be when you know what those people did?
"I wanted to wait for an appropriate time, but there isn't much time left. Do you understand what they did now?"
I do . . .
"Then do what you must. I will no longer have to be the first to pierce it."
Malik's eyes brightened to a healthy gray. And what must I do?
"Cut it down."
. . .
On the outside, Malik stared deeply into Kaya's face, illuminated by starlight.
Suddenly—
Knock. Knock.
A faint knock.
Behind it—
Hiss.
Malik stood as if threads had pulled him to the door.
Slowly, he turned the knob.
Whatever stood outside was not afraid of the night.
But what guided it here?
Did the lights outside lead it?