Excerpt 1 from The Fever Dreams of Sela Roce (as remembered by Dahira Ruhani)


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    I wept in a room with no walls,


    and my tears carved the shape of a door.


    I walked through it,


    barefoot and blind, into a sky that had forgotten light.


    There, the wind spoke only in riddles,


    and pain wore my face like a mask.


    “Who am I?” I asked the emptiness.


    It smiled with all my broken teeth.


    Excerpt 2 from The Fever Dreams of Sela Roce (as remembered by Dahira Ruhani)


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    My bones remembered something my heart had forgotten.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    A desert.


    A voice.


    A fall.


    I fell for years into myself,


    each breath a prayer I did not believe,


    each silence a song I could not bear.


    At the bottom, I met the one I feared most—


    and she had my eyes.


    Spoken by Ishara (as remembered by Dahira Ruhani)


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    I wandered the desert for a thousand names,


    but none opened the gate.


    I called for the Blessed in every tongue,


    but only silence answered.


    Then came the sign—


    not in thunder,


    not in flame,


    but a hand raised in stillness.


    No word was spoken,


    yet all words fell away.


    No path was shown,


    yet I began to walk.


    I looked to the sky for confirmation,


    but the stars had closed their eyes.


    I looked to the sand,


    and the sand whispered:


    The sign did not point the way—it was the hands of the Blessed, beckoning.