The desert by dawn was breathtaking.
The sands glowed soft gold in the early light, the horizon stretching into a faint pink haze. Layla and Malik walked quietly, their footprints trailing behind them like delicate stitches across a vast golden cloth. The heat had not yet risen, but even in the cool of morning, the desert felt alive ... restless, as though it sensed something stirring beneath the dunes.
Layla glanced at Malik as they walked.
He moved with a grace that didn't quite seem human. His bare feet barely sank into the sand. His long black robes, once torn and dusty, now seemed to shimmer faintly, the fabric stitched through with silver threads that caught the sun. But it was his eyes ... molten gold, catching every glimmer of light ... that reminded her most of what he truly was.
Not of her world.
And yet here he was, walking beside her like a companion.
At last, when the sun climbed higher and their shadows shortened, Malik led her to a rocky outcrop where the air shimmered strangely, as though the heat had already become unbearable. But when he stepped through it, the air around him rippled , and then cleared.
He turned back to her, his golden eyes warm.
"Come," he said, holding out his hand.
She hesitated only a moment before stepping forward.
The air felt cool as she passed through it, and suddenly the desert behind her vanished.
She gasped.
They stood in a hidden oasis.
It was unlike anything she had ever seen. Palm trees rose high overhead, their fronds shimmering silver instead of green. Water pooled at their roots .... crystal clear, with faint blue light glowing beneath its surface. Strange flowers with petals like folded silk bloomed in the shadows, filling the air with a heady, sweet scent. And the air itself… hummed.
"This is…" Layla couldn't even finish her thought.
Malik smiled faintly. "The Oasis of Secrets. A place hidden from human eyes."
She walked forward slowly, staring at everything. "It's beautiful."
"It's more than that," Malik said, following her. "It's old. As old as the desert itself. And it remembers."
She turned to him. "Remembers what?"
He crouched by the water, trailing his fingers through it. The ripples glowed faintly at his touch.
"My people," he said quietly. "The jinn. We were born of fire and air, long before humans walked the sands. This oasis is one of the last places that remembers our names."
He looked up at her then. "You've heard stories of us, haven't you? In your village?"
Layla nodded. "Stories of tricksters. Of whispers in the night. Of beings who grant wishes… but always ask for something in return."
Malik smiled faintly. "Half true. Half not."
He stood, his robe swirling around him like smoke.
"We were once keepers of balance. Guardians of the desert. But the Shadow Sultan betrayed that. He wanted more than the sands would give. He broke the pact, consumed forbidden power, and tried to enslave humans and jinn alike. We fought him. And we banished him. But we paid dearly."
He walked to one of the silver palms and laid his hand against it.
"The jinn faded. Many of us bound ourselves into sleep. Some… vanished altogether. And those of us who remained were hunted. Forgotten. Or trapped between worlds."
Layla stared at him, her chest tight. "You're one of them."
Malik turned back to her, his expression shadowed. "I was meant to sleep with the others. But when the stars began to fall and the Sultan's servants woke… I was called. The desert woke me."
He stepped closer to her then, his golden eyes searching hers.
"And you woke me too, Dreamer."
Her breath caught.
"I… what do you mean?" she whispered.
Malik tilted his head slightly, as though listening to something she could not hear. "The desert hums around you. You hear it. You've always heard it."
He lifted his hand slowly, and before she could pull away, he touched her temple with two fingers.
A warmth bloomed in her mind.
Suddenly, she heard it ... the song of the desert, louder and clearer than ever. A thousand voices, soft and low and ancient, weaving together. Whispers of sand and wind, of water hidden deep below, of stars blazing above.
Her knees went weak and she staggered. Malik caught her gently.
When the sound faded, she stared at him in awe.
"What… what was that?"
He smiled faintly. "That was the truth you already knew. You are attuned to the desert's heart. And perhaps… you are not only meant to help me find the shards. Perhaps you were born for more."
She blinked up at him.
"But… I'm just… me," she said, her voice small.
Malik's smile deepened, just a little.
"Everyone begins as just themselves," he murmured. "Until they're tested."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The oasis shimmered around them. The air was warm and cool at once.
Then Malik straightened.
"We should rest here," he said. "Tonight, we leave to find the next shard. It's not far ... but the Sultan's servant is watching us now. The longer we linger, the greater the danger."
Layla swallowed and nodded.
But as she lay later that afternoon beneath the silver palms, listening to the faint music of the desert, she couldn't stop thinking about the way Malik's hand had lingered at her temple. Or the way his golden eyes softened when they met hers.
She wasn't foolish enough to call it love. Not yet.
But something was there, quiet and waiting.
Like the song of the desert itself.
That evening, they set out again. The stars overhead were sharp and bright, and the sands glittered faintly in their light. Malik walked beside her in silence, but once ... just once ... as she stumbled over a hidden stone, his hand shot out and caught hers.
He didn't let go right away.
And Layla didn't mind.
Not at all...