The sands were colder tonight.
Colder and heavier, as though something vast and old had awakened beneath them, shifting restlessly in its sleep.
Layla stood at the edge of the dunes, her lantern trembling faintly in her hand.
This was her third night here since she first saw the Door Between … and though it had not returned, the winds insisted she keep coming.
She obeyed.
Because his whispers still clung to her like a second skin.
"Find me."
"Call me. I'll come."
The words lived in her ribs now, thudding with every breath.
But tonight, he was silent.
Not gone … no, never gone … but quieter, as though even the effort of whispering through the darkness had grown too heavy.
Instead, the wind guided her.
It curled around her ankles, urging her forward into the deeper dunes, where no one from Qamar dared to walk.
The lantern glowed brighter as she went, and for the first time she noticed faint shapes in the sand … spirals and sigils and lines carved as though by some ancient hand.
They glimmered gold under her feet.
She followed them.
The sands began to rise steeply until they became a wall of glittering silver-gold, and at the top stood an arch of stone she was certain had never been there before.
A faint sound came from beyond it … not wind this time, but something stranger.
A chorus.
Whispers layered atop one another, so many voices she couldn't tell if they wept or sang.
Layla climbed the final ridge and stood before the arch.
And there, leaning against it, was a figure.
He … or it … was tall and shrouded in a robe of thin white sand that flowed like smoke, and though no face showed beneath the hood, two pinpoints of light shimmered where eyes should have been.
"So the Dreamer has finally come," it said.
Its voice was neither male nor female … just a faint echo that belonged to the desert itself.
Layla tightened her grip on the lantern but didn't back away.
"Who are you?"
"I am the Keeper of Echoes," it replied. "I tend the place between dreams and stars. And you… do not belong here."
"Then why do the winds call me here?" she challenged.
A faint, hollow laugh drifted from its hood.
"Because you are already leaving your world, little Dreamer. Piece by piece, grain by grain, you're becoming what you were meant to be."
"And what is that?"
"A creature of between."
Her chest tightened at the words, though she didn't understand them.
"Malik is here, isn't he?" she pressed. "Beyond the Door Between?"
The Keeper's pinpoints of light flared faintly.
"Ah. Him. The boy who speaks through stars."
"He's not just a boy," she shot back, fiercer than she meant.
"No," the Keeper agreed. "Not anymore. Not since he chose you. Not since he began fighting the darkness for you."
Layla's throat tightened at that.
"You know him?"
"I know all who are lost," it said simply.
"Then bring me to him."
The Keeper tilted its unseen head.
"And pay the price?"
Layla stiffened.
"What price?"
The sands shifted beneath her feet, and the whispering chorus beyond the arch grew louder, more mournful.
"There is always a price when you walk between," the Keeper said. "The winds remember what you give them. And they do not give it back."
"I don't care," she said.
"Don't you?"
"No," she whispered, and her voice broke into something that almost sounded like a prayer. "If he's there, I'll go."
The Keeper studied her in silence for a long moment.
Then, softly:
"Do you even know what he is becoming?"
"He is Malik," she said.
"He was Malik," the Keeper corrected. "Now he is only whispers and light and madness. Every time he reaches for you through the darkness, he tears himself further apart."
Layla's hands trembled.
"And still he does it," she murmured.
"Yes," the Keeper said.
And then, almost gently:
"Because you make him mad."
A faint sob slipped from her lips, though she didn't look away.
"Then let me go to him."
"The Door Between will open for you when you are ready," it said finally. "But you must know: when you cross, you will never truly belong to your village again. To your world.
You will carry the winds in your blood, the stars in your eyes, and the sand in your bones. And they will hate you for it."
"They already do," she said quietly.
The Keeper's pinpoints of light dimmed.
"Then you are closer than you think."
That night, as she lay on her bed in Qamar, she heard Malik again.
Weaker than before. But there.
"Dreamer…"
She closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her chest.
"I'm here," she whispered.
The words that came back to her were ragged, torn from him, but still beautiful:
"The darkness fights me tonight… it hates you, my light… but I will not stop… not even if it devours me whole."
"You sound hurt," she whispered, her voice thick.
A faint laugh.
"Hurt? Perhaps. But it is worth it. For this. For you. To hear you breathe my name."
"Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"
A long silence.
Then his answer came, soft and impossible:
"Because even if it kills me… I want you mad with my love."
Her tears slipped hot onto her pillow, but she smiled through them, whispering back:
"You already have me mad, Malik. Always."
A faint sigh of wind curled around her, warm and golden.
"Then call me soon, Dreamer. Before there is nothing left of me to come to you."
The next morning, the village was waiting.
A crowd stood at her door. Angry. Afraid.
"We've seen the lights in the desert,"
someone shouted. "We've heard you at night. You've brought this curse upon us!"
"Witch," another hissed. "You are not one of us anymore."
Layla stepped out barefoot, her scarf loose, her lantern steady in her hand.
And though her knees shook, her eyes burned steady gold.
"You're right," she said softly, her voice carrying like a prayer. "I'm not yours anymore."
They gasped. Someone spat at her feet. But she only walked past them, into the sands, leaving their shouts behind her.
The winds rose, singing her name.
The sigils glimmered faintly in the dunes.
And in the hush of the morning light, she whispered back:
"Soon, Malik. Soon I'll call you. And you'll come."
Somewhere, faint and far, the Keeper's hollow voice drifted through the wind:
"When you are ready, Dreamer… the Door Between will open."
And her heart answered, fierce and wild:
"I am ready now."