Dawood blinked. Tried to inhale. Tried to form a thought, a prayer. Allah, what is this? What path is this? He’d put his faith in Allah, in the path he had to walk, had clung to his determination in the face of everything. In the face of Kris, the other half of his soul. His jihad had always been about the soul, about keeping to the path of his life, holding fast to Allah, like his father had begged him to so many years ago.
