I want Kaius and Rowan.
Some nights, I long for them so bad that I swear I can hear their voices on the wind: Rowan’s velvet-smooth purr and Kaius’ soft accent whispering sweet nothings into my ears. Other nights, I can feel them holding me…only to wake up and find that heavy sand has simply gathered on my body after I fell asleep outside on a windy night.
I’ve come to regretfully accept this as my life now. That no matter how many times I close my eyes and reach for them, all I have is sand and emptiness. Half-alive. Half-devoured. If there’s anything left of me at all, it belongs to Eternity, and she will not give it back to me. A punishment for defying her will.
Two Goddesses, forced to share the same heart, the same soul, the same mind. Two estranged sisters.
Twomonsters.
At night, when the desert cools instead of burns, and the winds bring the whispers the songs of the al-Abadi people across the sand, I sit atop the highest dune overlooking the town and let myself come undone.
I cry until my cheeks are wet and the sand under me turns damp, until my chest is unable to stop aching.
Tonight is no different. The stars are endless above me, a mist in the air from the tears in my eyes, and I hear footsteps in the sand behind me. I turn to find Saddiq climbing the dune, pausing for only a breath before taking a seat in the warm sand with me.
He knows that silence is the only language I can speak now, and so when he takes a seat, he simply begins talking, never expecting a response in return.
“You remind me of a Cambouri legend, of a queen that once ruled these sands. When the men from the West came to conquer the desert, they thought us inferior because we led simpler lives than them. They tried to impose on the Cambouri people a new order, to govern us in the ways of their lives instead of allowing us to live ours. There was a woman, named Abadi who stood between our sands and the western soldiers, refusing to let them enter our homes and churches and markets. They pushed past her at first, even so much as imprisoning her. But instead of giving up, she helped the prisoners escape and established her own rule, challenging the western ways of life. She learned their languages and war strategies, she enriched herself with philosophers and scholars from across the desert and stood unmoving in the sands with her people at her side. With the exception of a few small battles, Abadi never fought for her people with violence, but was silent and listened where others spoke. Eventually, through her endurance and patience alone, the westerners eventually left to cross the Endless Sea insearch of new lands to conquer. That is why we are called the al-Abadi people. Because we endure.”
When he finishes his story, I pull my headscarf to the side and look at him. “Why does that remind you of me?”
He gives me a soft smile and reaches for my hand, still touched by Eternity’s rot at my fingertips that I hide with black Henna paint and intricate designs on my palms and wrists. “Because here you are, enduring.”
A few more tears escape my eyes and I turn away again, because this feels nothing like endurance.
The only reason I still live is because Eternity will not let me die. I’ve tried, more times than even Saddiq knows, to chase my lovers into the afterlife.
But I can’t.
So this isn’t endurance. It’s…a pathetic attempt at survival.
But how can someone survive without a heart?
Thirty-Six
Adelasia
The desert breathes differently beneath the stars, with the vast silence filling the hills and valleys of the sandy dunes. Once upon a time, the constellations that fill the night sky were beautiful and alive, and I wished on the ones that fell like all girls do. But now I only see them as reminders of things that are too far away and untouchable.
Tears slide down my cheeks and I press my palms into my eye sockets until it hurts, trying to get them to stop.
A sudden harsh wind pulls loose strands of my hair into my mouth, and on that wind, a soft voice–
“Adelasia.”
I gasp and spin in all directions. “Rowan?” I croak out. His voice seems so distant, yet I swear it was right behind me. I hear my name again, but no one is there.
I look down at my arm, where a glimmering golden line used to decorate my skin and show that my heart found a place where it belonged–but now it’s faded into a lifeless, dull black. My mating bond tether used to feel alive in its own way, thrumming with the energy of the two men I love that always led me back to their arms. But now, when I reach inward to find Rowan or Kaius, there’s nothing.
Where our bond had once burned brighter than the sun itself, it’s now dead beneath my fingertips.
Just like them.
And yet, there is a naive part of me that refuses to believe it.
I hear my name again, but instead of Rowan’s voice, Habiba stands, looks up, and tugs on my skirt.
“What are you doing awake, little one?” I whisper to her. “I thought Baba put you to bed?”
