The Desert & the Dreamer.

The moon rose like a silver sail over the dunes.

It was the same as every night .... and yet Layla could feel something different in the air.

The whispers started sooner this time.

"Dreamer…"

She felt them before she even left her room ... faint, but insistent, threading through her mind like golden thread pulling her toward him.

"Dreamer, tonight… tonight the stars burn for you."

Her hands trembled as she clutched the faintly glowing crystal lantern, still nestled on her table. Its light was weaker now, a pale shimmer compared to the bright gleam it had when he first gave it to her.

She whispered his name to the darkness: "Malik…"

The wind outside seemed to answer.

"Come to me. Come where only we belong."

And she went.

She left the house quietly, her mother asleep in the next room, the courtyard silent except for the restless rustle of date palms in the breeze.

The desert opened before her, wide and silver in the moonlight, and she hurried barefoot into its embrace.

Each step into the dunes felt like shedding another layer of herself ... the tired, restless girl of Qamar left behind, until only the Dreamer remained.

And then the world shifted.

The glass dunes glittered under the stars. The indigo sky widened above her, glowing faintly silver around the edges. And Malik stood at the crest of the nearest dune, his robe fluttering, his golden eyes catching hers instantly.

But tonight… there was no quiet smile on his lips.

Tonight, his gaze burned.

She climbed to him as quickly as she could, her breath catching when she reached him.

"Malik," she gasped.

And without a word, he pulled her into his arms.

The wind swirled around them, warm and alive, and for a moment she could barely breathe .... not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of his presence.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough with feeling.

"Dreamer…"

His hand came to rest against her cheek, his golden gaze drinking her in as though he hadn't seen her in years.

"Do you know what you do to me?"

Layla's chest tightened, her own breath uneven.

"Malik… what's wrong?" she asked softly.

His fingers tightened slightly against her cheek, though his touch remained impossibly gentle.

"Everything," he murmured, his words falling into short, desperate fragments.

"You make the sands shake… the winds break… the stars weep for envy."

She reached up, her fingers wrapping around his wrist.

"Malik… you're scaring me," she whispered.

At that, his lips curved faintly ... though it wasn't quite a smile.

"No," he breathed. "Not you. Never you. Only myself."

And then, softer:

"Because I want… more than I should."

The words sank into her like a stone dropped in still water.

She didn't know what to say ... not when he looked at her like that, his golden eyes fierce and yet so unbearably tender.

He released her slowly and turned, leading her down the dune into the dreamland below.

But tonight, the land was different.

The spiraling glass dunes still shimmered, but the sky above burned brighter .... streaked with long trails of falling stars, like sparks from some unseen fire.

The sands glowed faintly red in places, warm under her feet, as though the desert itself had come alive.

Layla stared around them, her heart racing.

"What… is happening?" she asked.

Malik glanced back at her, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable.

"The land… reflects us," he murmured. "And tonight…"

He stopped and turned fully to her, his gaze dark and bright all at once.

"…my heart is a storm."

The words shivered through her.

And then he reached for her hand, pulling her close once more.

"But you…" he whispered, his forehead lowering to touch hers,

"you are the calm. You are the moon to my flame."

Layla's breath caught in her throat.

The wind picked up around them, scattering fine, glowing sand into the air ... a quiet storm of starlight swirling in their wake as he led her deeper into the glowing dunes.

He brought her to a canyon she'd never seen before ... its walls lined with jagged crystals that caught the moonlight and flared in a dozen colors. The ground beneath their feet shimmered with faint golden veins, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

Here, Malik stopped, his fingers lacing with hers as though he'd never let go.

"Do you feel it, Dreamer?" he asked softly.

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "I do."

"This land was made… by you. By me. By what we are."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "What… are we, Malik?"

At that, his smile returned at last ... soft, but sad around the edges.

"Hearts like wind and flame," he murmured. "One longing for stillness, the other aching to burn. And yet… we find each other anyway."

Her throat tightened painfully.

Because she could feel the truth in his words.

She could feel the strange, fragile connection between them pulling tighter ,... like silk about to tear.

And she could see it in him too.

Tonight, his light burned brighter .... but less steady, flickering faintly at the edges like a candle fighting the wind.

She reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand.

"You're hurting," she said quietly.

For a moment, he only stared at her ... his golden eyes searching hers.

Then he leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Not when I'm here," he whispered.

"Not when I'm with you."

She felt herself melt into him, into the faint warmth of his breath against her skin, into the quiet poetry that lingered in every word he spoke:

"You are my moonlight."

"My peace when the winds rage."

"My dream… even when the stars wake me."

Her heart ached with the beauty of it, with the weight of how much he meant each word.

And she ached with the fear of what it was costing him to say them.

They stood together in the canyon for what felt like forever ... his arms wrapped around her, his voice quiet and full of fire and longing all at once.

The winds rose higher, scattering more glowing sand into the air. The falling stars above streaked the sky, lighting the crystal walls with bursts of color.

And she knew.

She knew, even if he wouldn't say it, that this couldn't last.

That he was fighting something she couldn't see.

That he was burning too brightly.

When he finally pulled back to look at her, his gaze softened.

"If I am flame, Dreamer… then let me burn only for you."

Her tears fell before she could stop them.

And he caught each one gently, brushing them away with fingers that trembled slightly now.

"Don't cry," he murmured. "You are the calm. The moon.....

The dream that keeps me alive."

And then, lower, almost to himself:

"Even if I cannot stay… let me love you like this."

Layla couldn't speak.

So instead she pressed her forehead to his and let him hold her as the desert flared and flickered around them .... a fragile, burning dream clinging to the edge of night.

When she woke in her bed the next morning, the crystal lantern still glowed faintly.

But its light was weaker.

And for the first time… she wondered if one night soon, it would go out entirely.....