Perfect Cut

Calmness reclaimed Sultan the moment the final trace of the celestial call had passed him. his mental capacity paralyzed by aw and fear. apprehensive that any activity ,no matter how imperceptible, could bring judgement upon him from this Regal and Heavenly entity.

However, the peace didn't last. and soon, all hell proc loose. like a dam unsealed, a tight of change consume Sultan's consciousness.

he was like a drop of water thrown in a hated pan of oil.

Sultan filled nauseated, muddled and overwhelmed despite not having a body to reflect these emotions. He had no idea what is transpiring, yet he felt like being assaulted from each direction without a way to defend himself.

And like the heated oil will fight over consuming the water to cool itself, the chaotic sea of change seemed intent on dissolving Sultan's consciousness,

despite not having any method to receive sensory inputs, since he is currently is a sliver of consciousness and all of that, impressions of his environment began to form.

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 will not run form 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. They ran and crushed 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 presents their supposed freedom.

He does not wish to lay down his burdens, He only needs to become stronger to carry them. He does not dream of escaping the cage of life, for he had always held the key. All he wants was for that cage to be spacious enough to hold everything he loved.

And this is not what the dots offer. They want 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.

Then, He noticed that the longer he remained in this bobble, the more he was able to assert himself, growing increasingly distinct from his surroundings.

Eventually , he 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 lessening, settling. their grip over him weakened and his personal bobble expanded by the moment, giving him a space that he hadn't known that he needed.

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 bobble reached the nearest island.

As he landed there, his bobble expanded , blanketing the whole island, his body manifesting outward like a painting redrawn on Invisible lines. Before he can 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.

The reason, It was his very own voice.