Calmness reclaimed Sultan the moment the final trace of the celestial call had passed him. a feeling of heaviness and great importance encompassed the core of Sultan's being, even if he still was clueless about it all.
However, the peace didn't last, and soon, all hell broke loose.
Sultan felt like a drop of water thrown into a heated pan of oil. nauseated, muddled and overwhelmed despite not having a body to reflect these emotions.
Assaulted from each direction without a way to defend himself, Sultan sank into a chaotic sea of change that seemed intent on dissolving his remaining consciousness.
Despite lacking any means of receiving sensory input, as he was currently a sliver of consciousness and all of that, Sultan found himself able to form some mental image of his environment.
He sensed a boiling ocean of beads surrounding him, a world of erratic, shifting dots.
Dots that, at times, were as tiny as the smallest grain of sand, and at others, as enormous as the greatest of stars. Unmoving yet ever-changing, they embodied freedom in its truest form, potential in its purest meaning. And they demanded he join them, to taste liberation within them, and to embody all with them.
Yet despite their alluring promises, their request was far from gentle.
The dots pushed and pulled at him, trying to tear him apart. They pressed and squeezed against each other, intent on utterly and totally crushing him. Revolving around him, they rubbed against him, chipping and shaving away tiny pieces of his being.
Relentless in their efforts, insistent in their pursuit, they gave him no reprieve.
For a fleeting heartbeat, Sultan entertained their forceful invitation.
How wonderful would it be to break free from the last vestiges of his mortal self. Why would he need a body when he has the opportunity to imbody all things? The prospect of it was enchanting. It is the best way of being and an end better than death: A flawless immortal life without burden or responsibility.
NO.
the refusal came like a blade, sharp and final. He would not run from life. Not again. Sultan desired all what the dots promised, he hunger for it. His life had been like that of a barefooted traveler, stones on his back, dragging himself along a thorny road while longingly watching others sprint past him, crushing the thorns beneath their steel boots, leaving him behind.
So Sultan's disinclination was not out of apathy. Rather, it was the way in which the dots presented their supposed freedom.
He did not wish to lay down his burdens; He only needed to become stronger to bear them.
He did not dream of escaping the cage of life, for he had always held the key. All he wanted was for that cage to be large enough to hold everything he loved.
And this was not what the dots offered. They wanted him to cast aside what he had chosen to bear, to reach the end by becoming part of the road itself. But that was not his way, nor his journey.
As though someone—or something—were watching him, waiting for his decision, a bubble suddenly materialized, bobbing into existence around Sultan.
And the longer he remained in this bubble, the more he was able to assert himself, growing increasingly distinct from his surroundings.
Eventually , Sultan started to regain some sense of orientation, at least as much as anyone could be oriented in the middle of a void.
It was an extraordinary phenomenon. Sultan felt like he was drowning and flying at the same time.
The perimeter were constantly shifting, moving, growing, and consuming. If sultan focused on a specific part of it, he could sense enormous, dynamic forces like dots darting, merging, splitting, devouring, and growing all at once.
For a while, Sultan drifted aimlessly in this chaotic sea until something, or someone again, nudged him in a specific direction. Suddenly, he felt as though he had a purpose, a path to follow. Like a ball on a string, he was drawn toward a familiar point in this strange place.
His trajectory rose like a diver swimming toward the air, "The activity of the dots lessened, settling. Their grip over him weakened, and his personal bubble expanded by the moment.
The higher he ascended, the stronger the sense of familiarity grew. Not long after, his destination revealed itself. It appeared to be a collection of islands of sorts, a refuge for him, and of him, in this unmerciful environment.
Then, his consciousness split into fragments. Each fragment followed a different path toward the same goal. Eventually, they converged, merging back together as His original bubble reached the nearest island.
As he landed, , his bubble expanded , blanketing the whole island, his body manifesting outward like a painting redrawn on Invisible lines.
Before he could survey his surroundings or even delight in the return of his body, a clear and familiar voice spoke to him. It seems that Someone was expecting his arrival. What's more, Sultan intimately knew this voice.