Author's Preface
As twilight fell over the settlement, Yahya returned to the tent and told Halima they were leaving on a trip. Caught off guard by a surge of happiness, she threw her arms around his neck without thinking, holding him close. In the weeks since their wedding, they had truly grown attached to one another, so such open displays of warmth and affection were no longer rare. Touched by her tenderness, the future chieftain began telling her every detail of the journey ahead with an uncharacteristic excitement.
The ride on varak-back took two days through the desert's shimmering heat. But when they passed through a narrow rocky gorge and stepped into a cool grotto, Halima went still with wonder. Before them stretched natural thermal pools, steam rising off the water — exactly like the hot springs back on Earth. Faris, remarkably, had outdone himself: soft rugs lay spread over the stone ledges, lamps burned warmly, and cool jugs of water waited in the shade.
Overcome by travel fatigue, they barely reached the soft rugs before collapsing into a deep slumber. Waking hours later, feeling that profound sleep wash away every drop of exhaustion, the couple sank gladly into the stillness of the hidden grotto. Steam rose gently off the thermal pools, bending the warm light of the oil lamps. On the rugs, a lavish meal now awaited them: roasted meat, fresh flatbread, and chilled juice.
Halima popped a ripe berry into her mouth and smiled warmly.
"Faris really is something. When we first met, honestly, he seemed like the biggest bore, completely clueless about romance. And I thought he didn't accept me," she added, a note of sadness slipping into her tone.
Yahya gently took her hand and shook his head with a warm, reassuring smile.
"Don't let it weigh on your heart, Halima. Faris is just cautious; he takes time to open up to anyone who becomes part of our family. But look — today he arranged all of this for us himself. He saw who you truly are and accepted you. And in time, the rest of the tribe will see what I already know: that you will be the finest Seyyida this land has ever seen. But most importantly... I love you. Why trouble your heart with anyone else's past doubts when my love belongs entirely to you?"
Halima laughed softly at his words, feeling the last lingering shadow leave her chest.
As they ate, Yahya set down his bowl and looked at his wife. In the soft glow of the lamps, her features seemed especially delicate. He reached out, touching her hand gently.
"Halima... I would very much like to know you better. If it isn't too painful for you, tell me about your life on Earth. You almost never speak of it."
She went still for a moment. A faint shadow of old memory crossed her face, as if brushing against an unhealed wound. But over these past weeks she had grown deeply attached to her husband, and she knew she could open her heart to him now. He was different from everyone in her past; she could trust him. And, if she was honest with herself, she craved a small piece of his comfort. No one had ever truly cared for her pain before, and she was starved for it.
"Back on Earth, I was nobody special..." Halima began quietly. "It was just a plain, bleak life — nothing like a fairy tale. My father always preferred sons to daughters. In our family, girls were seen as a burden, and we lived under his constant, heavy hand, where every step we took was strictly controlled."
She turned her gaze to the steaming water, searching for words a man whose people had never known advanced technology could understand. "Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of becoming an astronaut. That means... traveling on an enormous iron ship, deep into space, toward distant stars. I used to look up at the night sky and want, more than anything, to break free of my father's control. I thought that out there, among the endless stars, all my troubles, my fears, my old wounds, would shrink down to nothing."
Yahya listened without interrupting, drinking in every word.
"I got into the Academy," Halima went on, a sad smile touching her lips. "To fly among the stars, you had to study without sparing yourself. Those were years of brutal, exhausting work. But in the final stage, during the last exams, I failed. One single step stood between me and my dream, and the door slammed shut right in front of me. I don't want to blame anyone... Maybe someone had connections, someone who spoke a good word for them. Or maybe I just didn't have what it took."
She sighed, but the old bitterness had faded from her voice. "Still, just to be near it somehow, I took a job on the crew as a waste technician. The lowest, dirtiest, hardest work there was. But — it was in space. And you know... I'm glad it ended up this way. Allah brought me to you. After all those trials, relief finally came through you. When you proposed to me, I couldn't believe, for the longest time, that someone as wonderful and noble as you could truly want me as his wife."
Halima reached for his hand, lifting her eyes to his — and stopped short.
On Yahya's face, tears glistened in the warm lamplight. He made no effort to wipe them away. His heart ached with a deep, burning pity for the wounds of her past.
"Yahya...?" she whispered, astonished.
Without another word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close as if to shield her from the whole world, from her memories, from the old pain.
"Forgive me..." His voice shook with emotion. "Forgive me for not being there with you in those hard moments. I'm so sorry, Halima... How could your father not love a daughter so beautiful, so precious? How could that academy of yours choose anyone over you? They were all blind. Completely blind!"
Yahya pulled back slightly, took her face in his broad hands, and looked straight into her eyes. "Remember this, Halima — you are the greatest treasure I have."
Watching his genuine tears and the tenderness burning in his eyes, Halima couldn't hold back a quiet smile breaking through her own tears of happiness. Every old hurt, every unfulfilled dream of the stars, every year of loneliness finally dissolved in the warm water of the grotto.
They held each other close again, sitting for a long while in the quiet sanctuary, warming each other in a tight embrace.
Seyyid Mansur left for the inter-tribal gathering before dawn, his heart light, having approved without hesitation the idea of leaving the oasis's governance to Faris. The old chieftain had decided it was long past time for his younger son to learn the weight of his father's work, to learn how to rule. The elders summoned for the day's council walked in with poorly hidden smiles — none of them took Faris seriously.
But inside the council hall, they were met with an entirely different reality.
Faris sat in the chieftain's seat, his spine perfectly straight, his robes pristine, his gaze cold and sharp. He opened the session strictly by protocol, not skipping a single formal word. When a respected elder from an honored line arrived half an hour late, expecting the usual good-natured pat on the shoulder, Faris didn't so much as blink. He delivered a curt, unyielding reprimand in front of everyone for disrespecting the council's order, leaving the man flushing deep red under his kinsmen's stunned stares. His father and brother had always honored the elders' age — Faris showed no such leniency.
Nor did any softness appear in his handling of the day's disputes. Personal requests, family ties, past service to the line — all of it shattered against the new ruler's unyielding wall. A dispute over water distribution that his father or Yahya would have settled with compromise, Faris resolved with pedantic precision — strictly by the letter of ancient law. No emotion, no sentiment. Only the law.
As darkness fell, the acting ruler's severity didn't ease. Instead of vanishing into the noise of a teahouse as he usually did, Faris pulled on a heavy cloak and personally led the night patrol. Every resident the guards caught wandering the settlement's streets after dark was met by the chieftain's younger son himself. He questioned the latecomers sternly, lecturing them without a hint of a smile on safety and rules against aimless nighttime wandering.
By the end of the third day, all the clans were in genuine shock. No one could have imagined that beneath the familiar mask of a quiet youth lurked such an unbending, hard ruler, one who placed strict order above all else.
Respectful, wary whispers spread through the entire tribe, and the people, with real relief, thanked the Creator that the lawful heir remained Seyyid Yahya — a ruler who was not only strong and just, but who carried a wise, gentle, and compassionate heart, just like their father, Mansur.