The stars above Qamar Village glowed brighter than she remembered.
When Layla crossed back over the familiar dunes and the rooftops of her little home came into view, it felt as though years had passed since she'd left though it had been only weeks.
The night she had fled into the desert, she'd been scared, unsure, burdened by whispers she didn't understand.
Now she was someone else entirely.
The villagers stared as she walked through the square … some in awe, some whispering, some just watching in silence. No one had seen her since the night of the starfall. Many had assumed she'd never return.
But here she was.
And she carried herself like someone who belonged not just here… but to the whole of the desert itself.
Her mother was the first to reach her.
The woman's hands flew to her mouth in shock as she saw Layla step into the courtyard … sunburned, sand-streaked, but alive, her eyes brighter than ever before.
"My daughter," her mother whispered, and then she was pulling Layla into her arms, weeping into her shoulder.
Layla held her tight, closing her eyes and letting herself simply feel the warmth of home for the first time in what felt like forever.
"I'm here," she murmured. "I'm home."
Later that evening, after the tears and questions had faded and the house grew quiet, Layla sat on the roof alone.
The desert stretched out before her … golden under the moonlight, endless, alive.
The shard still hung around her neck, faintly glowing, as though even now it whispered to her.
She didn't yet know what came next.
She didn't know if she'd ever see Malik again … not in the way she had known him on their journey. When the Sultan fell and the curse was lifted, the jinn had become something… different. Light and wind and fire, impossible to touch. She had watched him disappear into the starlit sands at dawn, his golden eyes soft as he said goodbye.
But even then, his last words had stayed with her.
"You'll never truly lose me, Dreamer. Not while you carry the desert in your heart."
That night, she lay in bed under the open window, staring up at the stars.
And she dreamed.
She dreamed of the desert … vast and alive. Of stars falling and wings of light.
And of Malik.
He stood at the edge of her dreams, the same quiet smile on his lips, his golden eyes warm as firelight.
"You still watch the stars," he said softly.
She smiled in her sleep. "Always."
"Good," he murmured. "Because the desert still watches you."
She reached out, and though she couldn't feel his hand, she felt his presence — steady and comforting, like the whisper of sand on the wind.
"Will I see you again?" she asked quietly.
Malik tilted his head, his smile faint but kind.
"You already do," he said. "Every time you close your eyes."
When she woke at dawn, she felt lighter somehow.
The shard glimmered faintly against her chest, and though her room was quiet, she could almost hear his laughter on the morning breeze.
She rose and stepped to the window, watching the desert wake.
Somewhere out there, a thousand stories still waited to be told … hers among them.
And though no one in the village would ever truly understand what she'd seen, what she'd done, some quiet part of her knew her story would live on.
It would live in the whispers of the dunes.
In the sparkle of the stars above Qamar.
And in the hearts of those who still dared to dream.
Because she had learned the greatest truth of all:
Courage doesn't end when the journey is over.
The dream doesn't die when the dreamer wakes.
It only changes shape.
And it lives on....
"An untold story lives in the eyes of dreamers."
To be continued….."