The priest returned with the map, carefully unfolding it on the table.
“All the children vanished three days after their baptism, always at night.”
His fingers smoothed out the worn parchment, revealing a detailed depiction of the region.
“No one ever saw the culprit. Whoever it was snuck in without a sound, left no clues, and took them away like a ghost.”
Layla frowned.
“That’s ridiculous! No footprints? No dragged furniture? No one sign of forced entry?”
The priest shook his head.
“Nothing. It was as if the kids just ceased to exist. As you know, we reported this to the Faraja, but they refused to help. Claimed the children must’ve run away… that we weren’t taking good enough care of them.”
Malik let out a snicker, shaking his head.
“That’s almost hilarious… So the church is just telling you to shut up, huh?”
The priest sighed, his shoulders slumping.
“That’s what it seems like.”
“Hm. A Templar bigwig has their hands on this, don’t they?”
Malik continued before they could answer his question, his eyes narrowing:
“This bigwig doesn’t have their men do the kidnapping themselves, but they pass on the information after the baptism. The… menu gets distributed to those interested. So the buyer gets to pick their merchandise. If they find a kid worth the trouble, they ask for them, and their friends come to pick them up.”
Layla slammed her hands on the table.
“That’s sick! I swear if I ever get my hands on one of these bastards—”
Malik raised a hand.
“Easy. We’re dealing with a crafty fucker. Gotta be smart about this.”
He leaned in, studying the broader geography of the land.
At the center was a colossal dark sphere—Al-Fawra, the Maw of the Devil.
Surrounding it was the Markaz, where the Holy Kingdom sat, taking most of the southeast.
It was a land populated by grand houses, mansions, manors, towns, and cities, all surrounding the Holy Palace.
Below that was what they were currently traveling through. And further below that was endless desert—Dawaha, an unforgiving wasteland filled with dunes, canyons, and towering glass monoliths, remnants of a forgotten war, jutted from the sand like jagged teeth.
To the east lay the Dark Continent, Layla’s home, separated by vast bodies of water. The Ten Seas. A stretch so treacherous that even the most seasoned of sailors hesitated to cross.
There, towering ziggurats were common, houses of worship of all kinds, and tombs, all were under the cover of a gigantic forest, likely a result of divine intervention.
Those lands were commonly known as the first to house humankind.
The north mirrored the south—except instead of desert, it was a frozen wasteland, an abyss of eternal night. An unfathomably large storm sat in its center, a never-ending one.
To the west, however, were relatively lush grasslands, where most of the planet’s population thrived. The only place untouched by the planet’s cruelty, making it quite curious… wanted.
Many had fought over that land, and an empress took hold. Scheherazade.
That too was common knowledge, yet that wasn’t what Malik focused on.
Next to the main map was a much smaller one. It originated from a dot in the southern region, one that indicated their current location.
This map focused entirely on the village, displaying its buildings in detail.
Malik tapped it.
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“Quite remote for a trafficking operation. Hm. Before I start, you got questions to ask?”
The priest flinched but nodded.
“I… I do… why us?”
Malik glanced at Layla before answering.
“Ain’t it obvious? Like those from the East, you’re seen as a liability. For them, it’s just because they look different or were born in a different land. With you? It’s because you messed with their money. The taxes they pay end up reaching you, no matter how little, and that erks them. Instead of hating the village Caliph, the one cutting into their profits, they hate you, knowing their heads would be cut otherwise. And they do so even though they all know that you’re doing a great thing.”
Layla smiled at him while the priest exhaled shakily.
“I understand… But what does that mean for us now?”
“Since the disappearances began, how many caravans have passed through? Besides us, of course.”
The priest furrowed his brows, thinking.
“None that I know of.”
Malik nodded.
“Then the kids are being stored somewhere nearby.”
Layla raised a brow.
“Couldn’t they have just sold them right away?”
He shook his head.
“Depends. But I wouldn’t bet on it. Judging by the state of the orphanage, even the best-looking kid here isn’t high-value. They wouldn’t be worth selling one at a time. The slavers need to move them in bulk to make a profit. That means they’re stockpiled somewhere, pretty secret but accessible, waiting for a carriage.”
Layla and the priest stared at him in disbelief. Huda too looked thrown off, almost twice as much as them.
“Why do you… know so much about this?”
Malik shrugged.
“Had slavers as roommates once. You pick things up…”
“Ha~ guess you never know when things might be good for you.”
The priest softly nodded at Layla and cleared his throat, clearly unsettled.
“In that case… there are some abandoned buildings around. Here, here, here, and here.”
He pointed at four different locations on the village map.
“There are more, but those are regularly used by the homeless.”
Malik’s eyes lingered on the spots, then he pointed at a building slightly northwest of the cluster.
“This is the church, right?”
“Yes.”
The priest confirmed and Layla suddenly perked up, eyes lighting with realization.
Before Malik could, she pointed to the closest building near the church.
“Then it has to be this one!”
The priest looked at them, confused while Huda seemed… shocked, gasping.
Ignoring their reactions, Malik simply gestured towards Layla, giving her the chance to explain.
“It’s obvious, no? Halling cargo makes a lot of noise, and in this case, it’s kids. They aren’t exactly quiet. Even if they’re knocked out, they aren’t easy to move. As he said, if they’re stockpiling them, it has to be somewhere close enough to get them out quickly but also somewhere people wouldn’t question odd noises. And what better place than right next to the church?”
Malik stood up, cracking his neck.
“We’re hitting that place tonight. Get prepared… oh, and go get me your pouch. I ain’t doing this for free.”