The desert sang at night.
To some, it was the sound of wind curling between the dunes, whispering secrets in a tongue older than words. To others, it was the faint hum of insects and distant howls of jackals. But to Layla of Qamar Village, it was a song , a real song , quiet but shimmering, as if the sands themselves had a voice.
On most nights, she would climb the crooked steps to the flat roof of her family's small mudbrick house and lie on her back, staring up at the endless sea of stars. The sky above Qamar was like no other sky in the world: it seemed closer here, heavy with constellations and moonlight, as if you could stretch out your hand and pluck a star right from its place.
Tonight was no different.
Layla curled her knees to her chest and rested her chin there, eyes fixed on a cluster of stars shaped like a scorpion. "Someday," she murmured to herself, "I'll leave this village. I'll see what lies beyond the dunes. Maybe even find where the stars fall to earth."
She imagined walking barefoot across some faraway stretch of sand, the moon lighting her path, and stumbling on a glittering oasis no one else had ever seen. She'd drink from its waters and meet… who? She didn't know. Someone magical, perhaps. A prince of stars. Or a wandering poet who spoke the language of jinn.
Her best friend Afiya always laughed at her when she said such things. "Layla, you're hopeless," Afiya had scoffed just that morning as they carried clay jugs from the well. "No prince is coming for you out of the stars. And no oasis is going to appear out of nowhere. This" she gestured to the dusty streets, the grazing camels, the ring of flat-topped houses "this is what we have. This is Qamar."
But Layla only smiled in her quiet way. Because even if Afiya couldn't hear it, Layla still heard the desert's song.
Tonight, the village was asleep. Lamps were doused; doors latched. From below, she could hear her father's snoring and the faint creak of her mother tossing in her sleep. The scent of warm spices and baked bread clung to the air from the evening's meal.
And then something strange happened.
A streak of silver light cut across the sky.
Layla's breath caught in her throat.
It wasn't just any shooting star. It was brighter. Bigger. Its tail flared green, then gold, then vanished as the star plunged beyond the dunes to the south. The desert went quiet. Even the wind stilled, as if holding its breath.
Layla scrambled upright.
Something in her chest fluttered. It wasn't just a star. It was a sign.
The next morning, Qamar Village awoke to the same routine as always. Children ran barefoot through the alleys, merchants shouted prices in the bazaar, goats bleated in the heat. But Layla couldn't stop glancing southward. Beyond the houses, past the date palms, past the fields of barley and fig trees, the desert began. It rolled away in waves of gold and bronze, into the unknown.
"Layla!" Afiya's voice broke through her thoughts. Her friend stood at the edge of the well, hands on hips. Afiya was tall and graceful, her thick black braid swinging as she motioned impatiently. "If you're going to dream, at least carry the water while you do it."
Layla flushed and hurried to join her. Together they filled two clay jugs and balanced them on their shoulders. Afiya squinted at her sideways. "You're thinking about last night, aren't you? I saw it too. Just a star. Nothing more."
Layla opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. Because how could she explain? How could she put into words the strange tug she'd felt deep in her heart when the light fell to earth?
By midday the air shimmered with heat. The village baked under the sun, and everyone retreated indoors for rest. But not Layla.
When her mother's back was turned, she slipped out of the house with a small leather satchel slung across her chest. Inside were a waterskin, a round of flatbread, and the little bronze dagger her father had given her on her twelfth birthday.
She didn't plan to go far. Just to the ridge of dunes south of the village. Just to see if the sand held any trace of what she'd seen last night.
Her sandals sank into the hot sand as she climbed the first dune. Wind tugged strands of her dark hair loose from her scarf. Sweat gathered at the nape of her neck. But she kept going, one step after another, heart pounding with the thrill of it.
After half an hour of walking, she reached the crest of a tall dune and froze.
There was something there.
Half-buried in the sand below was a shape dark, curved, and faintly gleaming in the sunlight. At first she thought it was a strange rock. But as she slid down the dune and came closer, she realized it was not a rock at all.
It was a figure.
A young man lay sprawled in the sand, his clothing torn and streaked with dust. His skin was pale as moonlight, and his hair shimmered black with a faint silvery sheen. One hand was outstretched, fingers half-curled, as if he'd been reaching for something just before he collapsed.
Layla's breath caught.
He didn't look like anyone from Qamar , or any village she'd ever heard of. His robes were stitched with strange symbols, and a faint glow seemed to cling to him, like the afterglow of a falling star.
She knelt cautiously, unsure if he was even alive.
"Hello?" she whispered.
No response.
She reached out and touched his shoulder.
The boy's eyes flew open.
They were the color of molten gold.
Layla yelped and scrambled backward, heart thudding. But the boy only blinked at her, dazed. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up on his elbows, wincing.
"Where…?" His voice was low and hoarse. He scanned the desert around them, confusion clouding his golden eyes.
"You're in… the dunes," Layla managed to say. "South of Qamar Village."
The boy frowned, as though trying to remember something. Then he looked at her, really looked at her, and something like recognition flickered in his gaze.
"You saw me," he murmured. "Didn't you? You saw the star fall."
Layla hesitated. Then nodded. "Yes."
For a moment, the boy closed his eyes, as if relieved. Then he sagged back into the sand, breathing hard.
She stood there, uncertain what to do. Finally she said, "Who… who are you?"
The boy's lips curved faintly, though it wasn't quite a smile.
"My name is Malik," he said. "I am… not from here."
Something in the way he said it made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Not from here. Not from the desert? Not from the villages? Or… not from this world at all?
"What happened to you?" she asked softly.
He opened his eyes again and gazed at her with that molten-gold intensity.
"I fell," he said simply. "And now… I need your help."
It was late afternoon by the time Layla coaxed Malik to his feet. He was weak but surprisingly light, as though his body were made of something less than flesh and blood. Together they made their way back toward the village.
"Why me?" she asked at one point, unable to hold back her question any longer. "Why did you fall here? Why did you come to me?"
Malik's gaze stayed on the horizon.
"Because," he said at last, his voice low and distant, "you're the only one who heard the desert's song."
Layla froze.
No one else had ever said those words before. Not even Afiya.
He glanced at her then, and this time he did smile , faint and tired but real.
"And because," he added, "you're a dreamer. And dreamers… can still see what others have forgotten."
Something warm bloomed in her chest at his words.
Maybe, she thought, just maybe, her dreams weren't so foolish after all.
By the time they reached the edge of Qamar Village, the sun was sinking low, painting the dunes in hues of amber and rose.
"Where will you go now?" Layla asked softly, as they stopped beneath a lone palm tree. She wasn't sure why, but the thought of him leaving already made her chest ache.
Malik turned to her, his expression unreadable.
"I cannot stay here," he said. "But I must rest tonight. And then… I have to continue my journey."
Layla swallowed. "What kind of journey?"
His golden eyes locked on hers, and for just a moment, she thought she saw something ancient and lonely in their depths.
"To stop something very dark," he said. "Something that has been sleeping beneath the sands for too long."
A shiver ran through her, though the evening was warm.
"And… can I help?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.
Malik blinked. Then, slowly, he inclined his head.
"You already have," he said softly. "But if you wish… you can come with me. You may regret it. But you won't be able to forget it."
Layla's breath caught.
She looked up at the stars that were just beginning to appear, one by one.
The desert's song was louder than ever.
And for the first time in her life, she knew exactly what it was saying.