Sheera caught glimpse of a star streaking across the sky over the cooling desert sands. “Look, a shooting star. Make a wish.” Her eyes were wide, staring up in astonishment.
Alnabar didn’t bother looking up, “I don’t need wishes.” He walked to the hut on the shores of the G’desh lake, fists clenched.
“That’s no fun. You were much more fun before.”
“That’s when I dreamed like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” They arrived at Sheera’s home, a small and makeshift place. Every time the rains came through it was washed away and her family would live with Alnabar for a few months until they could rebuild.
“It means I understand dreams. You can’t just wish for them.” He looked her in the eyes, and she shivered lightly under his predatory gaze. “You have to reach out and take them. And I will take all my dreams and make them real.” He kissed her hard, his arms wrapping around her. She struggled at first, then melted into him, a light moan reverberating through her lips and into his. Alnabar pulled back, letting her go. His warm arms left her, and the cold winds embraced her body. “My dreams shall be made flesh, and when I’ve accomplished all I wanted, I’ll have no need to dream.” He touched her cheek, “Sleep well, Sheera. May your brow stay cool.” He kissed her forehead and turned away.
Sheera watched as the man walked away from her quickly. There were words she wanted to speak, but the words remained in her throat, never taking form. When he was a good distance away, a figure hard to make out under the half-moon, she reached out and whispered his name, then touched her lips and went into her family’s shack.
Fantasy Writer and Cartographer
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I have people to kill, lives to ruin, plagues to bring, and worlds to destroy. I am not the Angel of Death. I'm a fiction writer.