Time passed.
It passed quick.
Because time didn't give a damn.
Time never did.
It didn't stop for grief.
Didn't slow down for broken hearts.
Didn't care for shattered souls.
The world had just ended for someone, yet everything kept on moving.
The Shams still dragged itself across the sky.
The Twelve Moons still traded places with their light's origin.
No grand pause. Just… moving forward. Because that's what time did.
It dragged you with it, whether you wanted to go or not.
And the caravan?
The caravan didn't stop either.
One Thousand Nights had to go on.
That was the way of things.
Malik followed, keeping his distance, a ghost trailing behind the living.
After ensuring the village paid up what the caravan was owed, he hunted.
Not for coin, not really. Coin was just a byproduct, a necessity for his goodbye.
What he hunted for was purpose. Something to keep his hands busy. Something to keep... them from sinking into his bones and dragging him down under.
