Life in the cave turned into a weird little rhythm for Malik and Sinbad.
Even though it was tough, having to juggle both survival and constantly taking care of Huda, it was starting to feel like they might have a chance to make it out of this Hellhole in one piece.
They completely cleared the cave by the end of the first day.
They saw it as the first order of business after their little bathing session.
Malik, with Sinbad trailing behind him, ventured deep, using torches they cobbled together from tree bark and fabric scraps.
The deeper they went, the more twisted the space became.
Jagged stalagmites jutted from the ground like broken teeth, and the walls narrowed in places so much they had to squeeze through sideways.
And the smell… it was horrid.
They’ve never smelt anything worse in their lives.
It got worse the closer they got to their destination—like someone wrung out the wet socks of a rotting corpse, threw them into a swamp, let them marinate for a few months, and then set the whole thing on fire just for fun.
They didn’t think about the source much because they could already guess what it was.
Their minds were more focused on stopping their urge to puke, forgoing everything else.
Careful was not even in their dictionary anymore; they just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
Those monsters weren’t there—not yet, anyway.
The Shams’s light hadn’t yet peered into Al-Fawra, so the monsters were off wherever they went during the night.
But their little hideout? Yeah, it was unmistakable.
Bones of all kinds littered the floor, some bleached white and others disturbingly fresh.
Sinbad accidentally kicked something small—what he hoped was just a rock—and stopped when he spotted it wasn’t a rock at all.
A jawbone, tiny and sharp.
He grimaced.
It was a horrid discovery for sure, but it told them a lot.
These things were smart, or at least smart enough to keep their water nearby.
And their meals? Judging by the bones, anything that moved.
Seekers, though…
Malik crouched down, picking up a scrap of fabric torn and bloodstained, the thread embroidered with familiar patterns.
Seekers were their delicacy.
He sighed, standing back up, his face pale but set.
“Alright, this ain’t the best news—” He stepped carefully over a particularly large rib bone. “—but at least they don’t seem to be nesting here all the time.”
A trembling Sinbad shot him a glance.
“Y-Y-You’re acting too optimistic while standing in a monster kitchen.”
“Optimism’s just cowardice with a grin. It ain’t…”
Malik’s words paused as his head jerked toward a pile of funky-looking fruit stacked in the back.
“Huh… Guess some of them are vegan.”
“…”
Sinbad didn’t reply.
No joke, no laugh, celebration, not even a flicker of amusement.
He just stared at his big brother, deadpan.
Shrugging it off, Malik began walking towards the pile.
“Now let’s take a few of those and go back.”
“Thought you’d never say it!”
…
With the cave explored and water handled, they moved on to the “less pressing” matters.
Their nutrient intake.
And so, days two and three mostly involved hunting for different kinds of food.
Huda, as it turned out, was not an easy customer.
She didn’t like any of what they first brought back.
Even later on, when they discovered a few fruit-producing trees at the patch’s edge, bringing back some strange, bulbous fruit, mushroom, or weird-looking berry, Huda would take one bite, make the sourest face imaginable, and mutter:
“I don’t like it.”
The first time, Malik chuckled.
The second time, he rolled his eyes.
By the third time, he groaned.
“Kid, do you like anything?”
“…Mhm… No.”
Huda turned her nose up at the fruit he presented, wrapping her arms around herself.
“I… want… good.”
Malik blinked.
“Something good? You think I’m holding out on you, little idiot? You think I’ve got a secret stash of roast chicken hidden behind that rock over there?”
“…May… be.”
“Ahahahahahahaha~!”
Sinbad laughed so hard he nearly choked on his questionable berry.
Malik groaned louder this time, dragging a hand down his face.
“I hate kids.”
The boy wiped his tears of laughter.
“No, you don’t. You love us.”
“Shut up, berry boy.”
“Hey~… you didn’t deny it.”
Clicking his tongue, Malik broke off a large piece of the fruit and took a bite out of spite.
It tasted like bitter dirt mixed with regret.
“Gh…”
He gagged, nearly spitting it out.
Sinbad’s grin widened.
“Delicious, isn’t it?”
***
{Outside The Projection}
“Was Lady Huda really that unreasonable back then?”
“Sure looks like it.”
“I’m surprised that Sinbad kid is taking it on the chin like that.”
“Same… kinda makes Lady Huda look worse though.”
“It’s a recipe for disaster. You’ve got a kid who barely survived on scraps and a spoiled brat who had everything handed to her.”
“Well, duh. She’s Al-Sayf. What do you expect? Sinbad’s just an outlier.”
“Grew up living like royalty, the life of Sultans—how could she understand the grief of beggars?”
“Oi, shut the fuck up! You guys trying to lose your heads?”
“Idiots.”
“But it’s true; I mean, why bother? He saved her life not once, but twice. I’d say that’s a good enough deed.”
“True. If it were me? No way I’d stick around to babysit some rich kid.”
While the older Magi within the crowd buzzed with murmurs, Huda stayed quiet, keeping her camp in check.
The last thing she needed was another bloodbath.
And honestly? She didn’t feel angry at their words.
They weren’t wrong, not at all.
Instead, all she felt was guilt.
***
{Inside The Projection}
Still, Malik and Sinbad didn’t give up.
They scoured further out in their area, carefully testing each fruit they found to make sure it wasn’t poisonous.
By the end of the third day, they’d built a little stash of edible—but not exactly tasty—options.
“Alright…”
Malik shoved a weird-looking root he’d dug up in her mouth.
“This is dinner. Bon appétit.”
Huda frowned, as expected, but this time she ate without too much complaint.
Progress.
Days four and five were spent mostly mapping the land.
The reason for that was obvious.
Malik had long since noticed it, but only now did he have the energy to address it.
Every time they ventured out beyond the patch of trees, the landscape was different.
What was once flat, grassy hills might turn into jagged cliffs or sandy dunes the next morning.
And as the young Sinbad, on the night of their fifth day, had said:
“It’s like… it’s moving. Like the land’s alive or something.”
It indeed was.
“…Sure, but not just ‘like.'”
Malik muttered.
“It is alive. Likely a result of those Aether Anomalies you told me about… Or something close to it.”
Sinbad blinked at him.
“T-That’s… really creepy.”
“Yeah. Creepier than you thinking roots taste good.”
“H-H-Hey, that root was solid! I stand by my words.”
Malik rolled his eyes but didn’t reply, staring at the seemingly endless jagged rocks surrounding them.
Sinbad did the same, or at least tried to, but got bored minutes later.
“So what do we do? Just stay in our little patch forever?”