Author's Preface
Over the past few weeks, a quiet suspicion had taken root in Halima’s mind. She had missed her cycle two months in a row, and lately, the sight of ordinary food had begun to turn her stomach for no clear reason.
She remembered these symptoms well—her mother and aunts had spoken of them often back on Earth. That was how new life always announced itself.
Don't get ahead of yourself, she cautioned herself, recalling the false pregnancy scare months ago and the wave of relief she had felt back then when it turned out to be nothing. But things were different now. Still, she needed to know for certain.
After lunch, Halima made her way through the settlement to the home of Fazia—the tribe's most experienced midwife. In their world, women served as teachers, healers, and midwives, tending to the community directly from their own homes.
Fazia welcomed her with a warm smile, offering her a cushioned seat. "What brings you to my threshold, Seyyida?"
"My period hasn't come in two months," Halima replied directly.
Fazia looked at her in surprise. "Two months? But that is perfectly normal."
Halima paused, realizing another fundamental difference between their peoples. "Women from Earth have a monthly cycle," she explained gently.
Fazia’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. "So you are capable of conceiving every single month?"
"Yes," Halima confirmed with a faint nod.
"Your people must be blessed with countless children then," Fazia marvelled, a soft light kindling in her eyes. "Then the rumors are true... Through you, the gift of daughters will finally return to our people."
Halima smiled softly. In this world, daughters were cherished as a rare blessing and a divine gift to the family—a stark and comforting contrast to the life she had left behind.
Fazia leaned in, gently taking Halima’s wrist to check her pulse. She closed her eyes, listening intently to the rhythm of her blood before looking up, pleased. "The signs do point toward pregnancy. A swift pulse can stem from many things, of course. But if your women bleed every month and yours has stopped for two, the likelihood is strong."
She paused, adjusting her shawl. "How long do women of your world carry a child?"
"Nine months."
"Nine?" Fazia pressed a hand to her chest. "Oh, that is so short! Here, a mother carries a child for a full, turning year."
A full year? Halima absorbed the words, struck by how much her body would have to adapt if this were true.
"Have you felt anything else?" the midwife asked.
"A lingering nausea."
"I see," Fazia nodded thoughtfully. "It certainly sounds like a child is taking root. Still, it is too early for me to say with absolute certainty."
"I understand," Halima said, rising from her seat. "Thank you, Fazia."
Before she left, the midwife promised to prepare a gentle herbal tea for the morning sickness, advising her to rest, eat lightly, and take calm evening walks.
So still no definitive answer, Halima thought as she stepped out into the bright sunlight. For a brief moment, she felt a wave of homesickness for Earth's technology—a simple pregnancy test would have settled the question in minutes. She shook the thought away, taking a deep breath of the desert air.
It’s too early to jump to conclusions, she resolved. There’s no point in speaking of this to Yahya or the family just yet.
While Halima walked back toward her tent wrapped in quiet contemplation, elsewhere in the settlement, Faris could think of nothing else.
All morning, his mind had been replaying the vivid dream from the night before—the Sacred Lake at Mount Nur-Sabil had finally summoned him. For weeks, a figure had appeared in his sleep, her features always obscured by mist. But last night, the waters had signaled that it was time.
His pulse quickened as he made the trek up the mountain paths. Questions raced through his mind with every step. Would she resemble his sister-in-law? What kind of spirit would she possess?
Stepping into the cool sanctuary of the cave on Mount Nur-Sabil, he approached the edge of the glowing water. The cavern walls were studded with vibrant, bright blue stones, casting an ethereal glow across the pool. The quiet majesty of the place held him spellbound, just as it had once held his brother.
Remembering Yahya's counsel—that the vision revealed itself only when one was fully submerged—Faris took a deep breath and dived into the crystal-clear depths.
And there she was.
Faris froze, transfixed beneath the surface. Her hair floated around her like spun gold—a shade he had never witnessed on any woman in his land. Yet her eyes, deep, dark, and impossibly warm, belonged entirely to the daughters of his own people.
She is breathtaking...
He couldn't tear his gaze away. But just as he reached out toward her in the water, her face dissolved into ripples.
Startled, Faris broke through the surface, gasping for air. "Wait!"
A sharp, hollow ache of loss washed over him.
He forced himself to calm down, recalling his brother’s words: the visions were fleeting, appearing only for a brief moment before vanishing. It was normal.
Yet as he pulled himself out onto the stone ledge, he couldn't shake her image from his mind—that brilliant golden hair, those warm, dark eyes.
How long will I have to wait for her now? he wondered, touching a hand to his chest. His heart burned with a fierce, sudden longing for a woman whose name he did not even know.
Will I be forced to wait for years, just as my brother did? Wandering with this ache in my heart?
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