Ahmad found himself sucking for air. It felt as though the musty, woolen layers of an unshaken winter blanket were pressing down on him.

The entire sky had collapsed on top of them like a dismantled circus tent. And rather than merely crushing them—pinning them down with shattered poles and weighed fabric—it had managed to work its way into their lungs and was determined to smother every inch possible.

Then it stopped, just as abrupt, as though his futile struggling against nothing but the atmosphere and Winnie’s weak whimpers beside him had kicked back the covers.

“That’s the last of it,” T.T. said, his voice echoing like he was speaking to them through a long tunnel.

“I find that it helps if you keep your eyes closed for a few minutes,” he continued. “It won’t make a difference in some ways. There’s a tenderness behind your lids that won’t be shared with the rest of the shadowed world. Take advantage of it for the moment. Breathe.”

Ahmad felt calloused, warm fingers clasp his. Winnie. He squeezed two beats—I’m here—and felt her squeeze back—I know.

They both breathed. Ahmad could hear Vijay Bhai, too, exhaling heavily behind them.

“Wow,” he rasped. “I don’t remember that from before.”

Ahmad could feel the heaviness leaving his lungs. He sucked the air greedily, letting it fill him up like a balloon.

“That suffocation? Remember that feeling,” T.T. said. “This is how it will feel if you lose. And now, stick together and hold hands. The path is getting narrower here.”

They walked on in silence.

After a few moments, though, Winnie gasped.

“Wait, what is that up ahead?”

There was a gradual but increasing shimmer of light. As they moved toward it, it expanded outward, and by the time they stepped into the middle of it, it was as though they were in a diamond mine.

“Wow,” Ahmad gasped, throwing his hand up in front of his eyes.

They were in what appeared to be a large, empty room. Every side was a blindingly white wall, and there were white tiles underneath.

Winnie clung to his arm. “What is this?”

T.T.’s voice echoed from ahead of them. “Keep coming, right up to here. It’ll be easier in a moment.”

Ahmad squinted as they moved through an archway. For a moment, the light was directly in his eyes and he couldn’t see a thing.

And then, he gasped, stunned.

“What is this place?”

“What remains of Lailat,” T.T. said hollowly. “The district of dreams.”

Vijai Bhai stopped and stared, his face shattered like a broken mirror, his breath ragged and torn.