In his mind’s eye he saw Moyad still bowing to their God before him those many years ago, at a time when life made sense to Illaam, when Illaam did not think to question freedom. But how could he have allowed himself to be here, to sleep, to dream?
He made his way to the sink. Curses escaped his lips, fear took hold once again. Cold water splashed several times on his face, a rivulet making its way through his thick, black chest hair down to his navel and then beyond it through thick black hair once again. With a shiver, he straightened and looked into the mirror. Two faces looked back. Then came the familiar voice, "Illaam. You were not so easy to find, my friend."