#islamic short

[lightedpath]

In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

All praise is due to Allah, Lord of all the worlds.

The Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

Master of the Day of Judgment.

You alone we worship, and You alone we ask for help.

Guide us on the Straight Path,

the path of those who have received Your grace; not the path of those who have brought down wrath upon themselves, nor of those who have gone astray.

[dom-archetype]

Gender Equality in the Caliphate of India

As more and more Muslim men acquired their personal hsluts, there was a sense of jealousy amongst some Muslim women. To take out their anger and make sure that the dynamics of the relationship stay clear, they would often resort to using and abusing the hslut themselves.

Several hsluts reported that Muslim women were much more cruel than the men and would happily torture each part of their body until they become unusable. "They wanted to teach us a lesson that we are inferior to them and will always be", said Anjali, a victim of unimaginable torture at the hands of her Muslim mistress.

The Caliphate hasn't announced any legal protection for them and instead insisted that gender equality is central to their culture and so Muslim women have the right to use hsluts just as much as Muslim men.

[azeemarahman]

It is the first night of Ramadan. Ali makes the same journey that he has for the past 22 years. He walks down the same streets, once filled with the night sounds of children laughing and women chatting, the scent of coffee wafting from cafes that stay open for suhoor, the sight of streetlights and dainty lamps and scattered stars, the feeling of moving along with the hustle and bustle of men rushing towards the call of the adhan. The same streets are now eerily silent, whispers of du’a barely audible, no sound of women or children, not enough men to form a crowd, no electricity to fuel the lights, the cafes and buildings crumbled to rubble and dust, the graveyard of a city that once came to life at night.

Ali prays Tarawih on the ruins of the mosque he grew up in.

It is the fifth night of Ramadan. Ali thinks back to the time he first entered this mosque. At four years old, he walked through the doors, his excitement contained within four stone walls. Rays of sun bounced off of tall windows, casting light onto Ali, running around in circles as his father prayed Asr. Ali remembers climbing onto his father’s back as he went down into sujood; he remembers his father putting his head down slower the second time; he remembers standing in front of his father, poking his head and waiting for him to finish; he remembers his father smiling at him and taking Ali into his arms as he completed his du’a; he remembers his father blowing the barakah of his du’as into his hands and blanketing Ali in that same barakah. He remembers his laughter as he did the same back to his father. He remembers the laughter of the other children ringing through the mosque’s four walls.

There are no longer walls to contain the sound, no longer children with any laughter.

It is the 12th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being 15, in a circle of his friends as they learned the Qur’an. He remembers the giggles and whispers that passed when the teacher’s head was down. He remembers his cheeks flushing as the teacher caught him talking to his friends. He remembers every mistake he made when he first recited Surah Mulk by memory. He remembers his teacher’s sigh when he gave the same lecture for the hundredth time that day. He remembers seeing his teacher smile for the first time when he recited the Surah with no mistakes.

Ali attended the Janazah prayer of his teacher in this very mosque only three Ramadan’s ago.

It is the 14th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being only 21 when he had his Nikkah. He remembers his cousin sisters decorating the entrance of the mosque. He remembers his mother cooking enough to feed an entire masjid full of worshippers. He remembers his father sitting him down and lecturing him on the responsibilities to come. He remembers the laugh that came after as he told him the blessings that were to follow. Ali remembers the smile that broke as his father told him how proud he was of him. He remembers his father blowing the breath of his du’as on him once more, just like the day he first entered the mosque. He remembers Fatima entering the mosque and thinking they were destined for one another, right down to their names. He remembers lifting her veil the moment they were officially wedded. He remembers their first hug, shy and small and sweet; he remembers wrapping his thobe around her; he remembers the first Salah he led her in and taking her by the hand to lead her out of the mosque, together this time.

Fatima hasn’t entered the mosque since she witnessed her sister being shot on the musallah that their mum gifted her.

It is the 17th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being 23, rushing into the mosque with a smile just before Isha, exclaiming how Fatima had blessed him with a daughter. He remembers that despite the ongoing attacks, the hugs and smiles and tears and du’as were abundant among the brothers he prayed beside. He remembers looking forward to the day he could bring his daughter into the mosque and she could climb on his back the same way Ali used to climb on his father’s.

Ali’s daughter went missing from the mosque only two nights ago.

It is the 20th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being 24 and opening his fast with his brother-in-law beside him. He remembers not having much for iftar, but at least having enough dates and bread to feed all of the worshippers that day.

The worshippers lessen as the genocide continues, and yet there is not enough bread to go around.

It is the 27th night of Ramadan. Ali remembers being 25, watching and being part of all the brothers immersed in their prayers and du’as during what may have been Laylatul Qadr. He remembers brothers praying for safe returns, for the healing of loved ones, for the protection of their Lord.

Ali was reluctant to lift his head from the rubble as he prayed for his daughter to come home.

It is Eid day. Ali enters the mosque to pray Eid Salah. He remembers how Ramadan always passes in the blink of an eye. He contemplates the first Ramadan he spent praying on the ruins of his local mosque instead of within its four walls. He ruminates over how the worshippers lessened and lessened from that first night of Tarawih. He remembers attending the Janazah of the ones who were at least blessed enough to be found. He dreads how this Eid prayer will be followed by Janazah prayer, after Janazah prayer, after Janazah prayer.

Ali begs Allah that none of those prayers are reserved for his daughter.

-azeemarahman

*please note this story is fiction.

[Translations:

Ramadan - the month when Muslims fast from the time of the dawn prayer to sunset.

Suhoor - the pre-dawn meal.

Adhan - the call to prayer.

Dư'a - supplication.

Tarawih - Sunnah prayer performed in Ramadan.

Asr - afternoon prayer.

Sujood - an action during prayer whereby the forehead is lowered to the ground.

Barakah - blessings.

Quran - the Holy Book of Islam.

Surah Mulk - 67th chapter of the Qur'an, meaning 'The Sovereignty'.

Surah - a chapter of the Qur'an.

Janazah - funeral.

Nikkah - Islamic marriage ceremony.

Masjid - mosque.

Thobe - traditional garment.

Salah - prayer.

Musallah - prayer mat.

Isha - night prayer.

Iftar - the meal in which Muslims open their fast.

Laylatul Qadr - the Night of Power.

Eid (ul-Fitr) - celebration at the end of Ramadan.]

[yourimagines]

can you write more about islam makhachevmaybe nfsw maybe softwhatever you want

I’ll go with fluff today, enjoy ☺️

Mornings with you

*English is not my first language I apologise

*Triggers: Fluff

Y/N POV

Mornings with Islam were always the same, his alarm goes off at 5, he gets up, goes for a run and comes back at 7 to take a quick shower before joining me for breakfast and so was today as well.

I woke up from his alarm, that he quickly turned off before getting out of bed. He was quiet as he walked around the bedroom, gathering his clothes to get ready for his morning run. I was still sleepy, trying not to get fully awake as he sat down on my side of the bed. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be back in two hours.” He gently whispered as he placed a soft kiss on my forehead before getting back up. I nodded at him and closed my eyes as he walked out of our bedroom, slowly drifting away into a dreamless sleep.

“How was your run?” I asked him as he walked up to me as I was making breakfast for us. “Good, did you sleep well?” His hands slowly moved around my hips, gently squeezing them as he placed a kiss on my shoulder. “I slept well.” I answered as a small giggle escaped from me as his beard tickled my neck. “Sorry, my beautiful wife.” He pulled me by my hips closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around me, locking me in his embrace. “What are your plans for today?” I asked as I gently touched his arms, tracing them softly. “Nothing, I have a day off today.” He was smiling against my shoulder as he softly placed a few kisses on them. “Really? Do you maybe want to go out shopping with me?” A soft hum and a few more kisses were enough for me to smile. “Thank you.” I gently squeezed his hands and tried to continue to make our breakfast. “Always for my beautiful wife.” He whispered against the back of my head as he slowly released me from his embrace.

Islam POV

I took a seat as she was finishing up our breakfast. “I actually need some socks.” I said as I was admiring her, she always looked so soft and beautiful. “We’ll get you some new socks.” She turned around and placed two plates down on the table. “Looks good.” She smiled and sat down as well. “Thank you.” A small blush was on her face as she shyly looked away from me. “3 years of marriage and you’re still so shy around me.” I found it adorable. “Oh please stop it.” She playfully nudged my arm and giggled. “I like it, so don’t worry.” I grabbed her hand and placed a soft kiss on it. “I love you.” She whispered softly. “I love you.” I whispered softly back at her. We both were smiling like idiots as we continue to eat our breakfast together, she was rambling about the things she needed from the store as I was listening very carefully to her, adoring her secretly.

[en-scribed]

CENTER OF THE WORLD [fantasy short story]

Personified immortal Stars have lived secretly on Earth throughout history. This piece takes place in 16th century Florence, right at the brink of the Copernican Revolution. Sol, the beloved sun king, is presented with an endless battle and an impossible choice. The Stars' world was created by myself and @heirmyst. Previous post: [THE THREE BIRDS] [ORION'S FINEST] [GATHERER OF GRAIN] Word count: 4,453

The air grew colder by the moment as the sun set. Sol, soaring through the overcast sky, had to stamp down the instinct to burn brighter. Instantly, as daylight faded, the flight grew tedious, but not because of the cold. Sol hastened his wingbeats to reach his destination sooner; anything to stop having to dim his flames.

Finally, he descended into the old Medici palace’s chapel, only letting the protective cloaking field drop once the walls securely surrounded him.

Beaming, he spread his arms, ready to receive his fellow Stars. “I am here!” 

His flight-blurred vision cleared, only to reveal… nothing. The cavernous space of the chapel only echoed back his own words.

And the sound of a loose page turning. 

Sol walked toward the steady, calming light that radiated from an opposite corner. Cann sat alone, hunched against a wall in a way that couldn’t have possibly been comfortable for their wings and engrossed in a bound tome.

“I said,” Sol repeated, with greater enunciation, now that he spoke only to one fellow Star. “I have arrived!” 

“I can see that, my king,” Cann said mildly, without looking up from their book. “I heard you the first time, and knew you were coming well before then.”

He stiffened. “Did I fail to disguise my light enough?” 

“Oh no, it was more than enough for the mortals,” Cann said with a laugh, their eyes glowing with lavender flame to make the point. “But there’s no hiding from me.”

Sol sighed. He folded his wings back down and leaned against the pillar facing the other Star. “Where are the others, Canopus?”

Cann shushed him, impatient. “I’m almost done!” 

“Is it truly that riveting?” Sol asked flatly. “You read too much.” 

Cann didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding to the remark, or even acknowledging that they heard it. They simply flipped through the last fifty pages in the span of a few minutes and put it aside. Finally meeting Sol’s eyes with the utmost seriousness, they said, “No such thing as reading too much.”

“There is for you!” Sol argued. “You can know anything without lifting a finger. What use would you have for mortal books?” Absently, he picked it up, ready to cast it aside before the words on the cover caught his eye. It read, On the Revolutions of the Heavenly Spheres.

“For one,” Cann said, smiling, “It’s an invaluable resource on keeping up with the mortals. I know what I know, but it’s useful to keep a finger on the pulse of what they know.”

Sol found himself leaning forward. “And… what do they know?”

“It appears that one of them has taken a shot in the dark.” They held a palm out and produced a small pocket illusion; two spinning orbs, one large and golden, the other small and blue. “He has come to the revelation that the Earth revolves around the sun, not the other way around.” 

Before Sol knew it, he was perusing the book. The words blended together, but the diagrams scattered throughout held his attention. He vaguely remembered secret keeper al-Tusi and the rest of the observatory students in Iran shoving quaint pictures in his face, some near identical to the ones in this tome. Somehow, their legacy had carried itself to a mind several lands away.

“How did the astronomers of the caliphates never come to this?” Sol asked.

“A misguided question,” Cann said, ending the illusory demonstration. “You cannot judge them by the standards we have because of what we know, especially because they were brilliant on their own terms. I believe you would be better served asking why this man did make this departure.”

But Sol’s mind did not have the space to ponder Cann’s philosophical proposals. Basking in the satisfaction of finally having his centrality out in the open, no matter how fringe this mortal’s reach might have been, was too momentous to be disrupted by anything else. 

He caught Cann’s wry, knowing stare and tossed the book back to them. “As if I needed the humans to tell me what we’ve always known,” he said, trying his best to wipe the smile off his face. “Well, leaving that… why have I returned to an empty palace tonight?” 

Cann stood, smoothly snapping to attention. “Hauntings have decided, very unwisely, to camp outside the city walls. A show of force, I gather. The others have flown out to neutralize the flock.”

“All of them?” Sol asked, surprised. “Even Sirius?”

“Especially Sirius,” Cann corrected. “Vega insisted upon having him. You know how they get when the other side of fate’s scales tips even an inch downward.”

Sol nodded proudly. “North Star V never misses,” he said. “Still. How have they not asked you to join?”

“We aren’t that desperate just yet,” Cann said lightly. “Some blasts need to be held close to the chest.”

On cue, colorful flames lit up the chapel’s entrance. As Sol hastened to adjust his crown and take his place on the steps, Cann strode forth to meet the Stars. The group, freshly out of battle, frantically scrambled to make their various reports known. V shoved their way to the front of the group, buzzing with urgent blue lightning, but at the sight of Cann, considerably relaxed. 

Placing a sympathetic hand on Cann’s shoulder, V said, “I wish you only the absolute best of luck.”

Cann only blinked at them, confused. “For what?”

“My king!” Alpha Pavonis’ cry rose above the other Stars’ chattering, catching Sol’s ear. “May I have a word?” 

Before Sol could open his mouth, Cyon sprang to hold Alpha Pavonis back. “Oh, don’t you dare!” she yelled. “You do not get to skip your way directly to the king, Pav. This is unacceptable!”

The two continued to struggle against each other, the arguing punctuated by warning blasts. V turned to Cann. “Enjoy dealing with that,” they said. “I’m going to do away with the debris from the latest flock.”

“Wait, the latest flock? Vega!” Cann protested, grabbing for their hand, but V was too fast, making a quick exit in a flash of lightning. Cann gestured wildly in Sol’s direction. 

“Stars, silence!” Sol commanded. Instantly, the room quietened. Cyon had managed to pin Pav to the marble floor, before she was pulled to her feet by Sirius, who whispered calming words to her. Satisfied, Sol made his way down the steps. “Bring forth your reports one at a time.” 

“Affirmative,” Cyon said, dropping Sirius’ gloved hand and walking toward Sol. “You see, the matter at hand is that Alpha Pav—”

Sol held up a hand to stop her. “Now, if you will begin by recounting a fellow Star’s argument, I would rather hear it from the source themself.” He glanced at Pav, who was getting back on their feet. “The sky is yours, Alpha Pavonis.”

“Ah… thank you?” Pav stammered out. Quickly regaining composure, They stood tall and trailed their peacock hued robes behind them. “My king, as I’m certain you have gathered from the North Star’s words, we have not one Haunting flock on our hands, but a ready, almost endless queue. Every time we neutralized one at the walls, another rose to take its place. We slowed it down, and even then, Vega might meet another while they’re gone.”

“Are you implying we are low on firepower?” Sol asked. “Has Sirius’ deployment not eased any such concerns?”

“Yes, but—”

“Yes, and,” Cyon corrected sharply. “Show some respect.” Beside her, Sol could have sworn he saw Sirius grinning under the cover of his mask. 

Pav glared at the two, but went on undeterred. “Why continue the grueling task of taking them out one by one, when we have what it takes to frighten them off for good?”

They paused, as if their implication was obvious. Sol glanced back at Cann, who only shrugged. They were as confused as he was. 

“Explain yourself,” Sol said. 

“Why… we have you, my king.” Pav said. “If you send a warning using the most magnificent celestial body in the sky, they’d be forced to take heed, yes?”

“Sol,” Cann began, warningly. “This proposal is too ambitious for its own good.”

“You’ve spoken above your station more than enough, Pav!” Cyon piped up. 

“Sirius,” Sol said. “Please restrain your wife.” 

“Of course, my king!” Sirius’ constant flames brightened as he reached for Cyon’s arm. “Regardless, for the benefit of the court, Pav’s suggestion would be a severe violation of our arrangements with the Medici. Any unforeseen celestial events here will be seen by the entire population of Florence, and we could be—”

“Cyon,” Sol cut in, already tired. “Please silence your wife.”

“Heard loud and clear, my king.” But she was still glaring daggers at Pav, who was looking back at her with presumptuous, smug satisfaction. Sirius was barely managing to hold her back from attacking again.

Sol decided he had no time for this. “Cann!”

Cann stepped forward, wings and arms spread to usher everyone out of the room. “Say no more. Because no one here is my wife.”

“Your loss,” Sirius said, and collective airy laughter echoed around the chapel.

Sol let himself breathe, relieved by the tension dissolving. Sirius laced his fingers through Cyon’s and led her out of the room. The other Stars swiftly followed them, their conversations now far more lighthearted. Only Pav lingered behind, slow to budge. Sol took a tentative step toward them.

“That means you too, Alpha Pavonis!” Cann ordered, cutting any action short now that Pav had no choice but to listen. “Move!” 

“All of your concerns have been heard!” Sol promised the exiting Stars. “Allow me until the next sunrise. We will proceed only with what is best for you!”

“You heard him, next sunrise!” Cann repeated for emphasis. “For skies’ sake, don’t let me catch any of you out of your quarters before then. I will know!” 

Once everyone else left the hearing range, Sol sank into the altar seat, gripping the crown on his head tightly between his hands. He only had some hours to figure this out, and failures awaited him in every direction; which of them would be less shameful to bear? 

Cann cleared their throat. “Is everything alright?” they asked, the calculated performance of the king’s advisor flawlessly shifting to the softness of a friend. 

Sol tried to smile back, but it felt hollow. It always did when he was with Cann. And yet, even as he knew there was no use, he found himself saying, “Yes. Hauntings and mortals have never stopped us before. This is an inconsequential matter.”

Cann raised an eyebrow. They both knew full well nothing involving the sun could ever be inconsequential to Stardom. 

“I… must think this over,” Sol said. “Alone.”

“If you say so,” Cann said easily, no trace of accusation in their voice. Sol watched them gratefully as they marched out of the chapel without another word. He loved it when they played along this way; it almost lulled him into the false comfort of thinking something could get past their sharp, all-seeing eyes. 

With no one except his own light for company, Sol mulled over the decision, thinking about every angle hard enough for flames to rise his fingers, carelessly scorching the wooden chair. Skies above, fragile human furniture was a pain.

He stood, hating how he couldn’t even claim ownership to the walls around him. Resentfully, he let his gaze drift over the painted frescos surrounding him, scenes of mortal processions and hunts. He’d find the pomp endearing if it wasn’t so offensive right then. These were the beings he and his people had to hide from? When would they wake up to the truth that the Stars outshone them in every way?

Except… His stroll through the hall finally came to Cann’s forgotten pile of books. On top rested the one that spoke of the sun’s centrality. 

Some already had woken up, hadn’t they?

Coming to a decision, Sol walked out of the chapel, steps as delicate as air. He could not sit idly. The lurkers thought they were out of reach, with their clever queue rotation, but Pav was right; they’d run at the first sight of Sol. He weaved through the palace corridors and bypassed the nearest window in a flash of light. 

Veiling his fire as well as he could given the stark contrast against night, he fluttered carefully into the air. 

Lightning struck the palace roof; V had arrived, landing unsteadily against the rough masonry. Sol moved instinctively, backing himself against the nearest wall to hide. Did they have to return just as he was leaving?

“Vega?” Sirius’ voice floated in, his footsteps rushing to join them. “Did you manage the mess? The wall remains untouched, yes?”

Catching their breath, V laughed. “Managed,” they repeated bitterly, with a break in their voice that made Sol worry. Were they hurt? “Guess who came to taunt me when I went to clean up?”

Sirius sighed. “Another encampment?”

“I don’t know where they keep coming from! It’s as if they can’t leave the walls unoccupied for even a wingbeat, the stubborn fucks.” 

“We outdo their stubborness, then,” Sirius said, his voice far less confident than the words. Sol’s heart sank; his strongest soldiers were battling themselves to exhaustion, all for the feeble, sheltered minds of this city’s mortals. “We need a plan of action. Between Pav and Cyon, whom do you think—” 

“Stop,” V cut in, irritated. “Your nonsense infighting can wait until sunrise. We aren’t even supposed to be out of our quarters. In, now!” 

Their footsteps and further conversation faded. If Sol’s resolve ever faltered during his exit, this hardened it beyond return. The Hauntings’ intimidation tactic could not be allowed to stand anymore.

Letting the anger fuel him forward, Sol set a course straight for Florence’s walls.

The closer he flew to the edges of the city, the murkier the sky became. Too soon, every precious star adorning the cloak of night disappeared, and he had nothing to glance up at for strength.

Enough, he thought to himself, steeling his nerves. It is I who must give them strength now. 

The weight of the blotted sky burdening his every wingbeat, Sol arrived quietly to the scene of the northern gate. Below, three Hauntings lay in wait on burned grass. Sol didn’t know it was possible to make nighttime even darker; these sentient black holes masquerading as earthly creatures always proved him wrong. He set his feet down on the wall’s brick facade, stepped off the end, and let his light burst forth. 

“Leave these walls!” he yelled.

Immediately, high whistles rang out as the Hauntings rushed into formation. One of the quicker front soldiers, clam-like in shape, launched a black-stained pearl the size of a boulder. 

Sol braced himself, burning hands ready to intercept it… but the hit never came.

Just as the cannonball corralled to knock into Sol, he was on the ground, untouched, the pearl dropping unceremoniously a few feet away from him. The Hauntings froze, confused, inadvertently allowing him a moment to regain his bearings. 

Enough to see that the stained pearl now glowed lavender.

Keeping a flame at the ready to ward off the Hauntings, Sol looked up at the wall behind him and yelled, “Cann!” 

On command, a head emerged at the top. Cann peeked down. “My king,” they greeted, not bothering to sound the slightest bit chastened. 

“What are you doing here?” Sol asked. The clam Haunting unwisely decided to rush him. Sol’s flame cut him down in an instant. “Out of your quarters, at this hour?” 

“I could be asking you the same thing!” Cann swooped down at the last word, tackling both remaining Hauntings at once. “Did you think you could hide from me?” Even as they punctuated each word with a calculated strike, Sol got the feeling the anger in their voice was not for the creatures. “Or did you want me to graciously look away, as you crept off to this endless fight?”

Successfully, Cann brought a frail reptilian Haunting flat onto the ground. The companion, an armored, plump one, continued to trade blows with them.

Sol rushed to their side, knocking the Haunting off course with one fatal punch to the head. He shook off the flame, triumphant. “That will teach you.” 

“Sol…” Cann whispered warningly.

“Don’t… think this is over,” a new voice said, wet and halting. The clam Haunting was still on the ground, a hole burned into his weak internal flesh. That did nothing to compromise the smugness of his declaration. “You can’t take us all.”

Sol’s fist burned, but Cann touched his arm, silently telling him to save it.

“Wonderful,” Cann muttered. “Another entry in this queue will be here any moment.”

“Oh, don’t act as if this was wrong of me!” Sol shot back. “Would you rather I sat comfortably in the palace while this went on? Pav said—”

“Pav is a showboating windbag,” they said drily. “Why are we listening to them?”

“It is our only option,” he said. “These Hauntings need to be cleared out, and if the cost is some inconvenience to the mortals—”

“The cost is you, Sol!” Cann’s voice rose to a volume Sol had never heard before. Softer, they went on, “You don’t have anything to prove to mortals, or Hauntings… anyone.” Desperate, they reached for his hand. “The sun’s face is all the more precious because it’s our secret. Why would you throw that away?”

“Cann…” Sol’s words died in his throat. He never considered what he’d be giving away. Even if he frightened the Hauntings, what would become of the Stars if they were unveiled to the mortals thanks to his carelessness?

He was the center of the world. For the first time, he hated that truth.

A dark mist closed in, followed by quick feet hitting the ground. More Hauntings were coming. Sol’s heart raced. What was he going to do, surrender to the enemy, or betray the secret? He racked his brain, at an impossible loss.

Until he locked eyes with the Star beside him, and everything fell into place.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” he asked.

Cann’s smile shone even brighter than their burning eyes. “I know everything.” 

Without having to say anything else, the two of them parted, Cann holding their ground against the incoming flock as Sol took to the sky. Trusting Cann to keep the Hauntings busy, Sol watched the horizon, waiting for the perfect moment. 

The smallest glimmer of the coming dawn’s fire was all he needed. “Now!” he yelled. 

He glanced down, only to realize with horror that he’d distracted Cann at a crucial juncture. A well-toned amphibian Haunting seized the opportunity, wrestling Cann to their knees as the force of the flock descended on them. Sol hovered uselessly on the spot, paralyzed by the sight, his eyes darting between the battle below and the sunrise. 

He could not fail. Not like this.

Then, the sky cleared.

A concentrated beam of lavender light had cut through an opening between the Haunting’s limbs and shot into the sky like a beacon. It reached its zenith and dispersed, sending a dome of thin, shimmering illusion descending onto the battleground. 

A curtain. They were safe from outside eyes.

Cann brushed their horrified assailants off and struggled to their feet. They looked up at Sol. “Do it!” 

The sun was now painting the sky red. Sol caught hold of its fire and, working like a strategically placed glass, focused its wrath on the toad Haunting who had led the latest charge. The skin ignited. High-pitched screams pierced the air, from the toad and the rest of the flock alike. Sol glared, unblinking, making his silent threat clear. The sounds faded mercifully fast into the distance as the Hauntings made their escape, away from the walls of Florence. Cann joined Sol in the air, wasting no time in putting distance between themselves and the retreating flock.

“Are there more coming?” Sol asked.

Cann briefly scrunched their face in concentration, then relaxed. “No,” they said, satisfied. “All of them are retreating.”

The weight of the sky seemed to be lifted off Sol’s shoulders as the two Stars made their way to the wall. They’d done the impossible, put an end to the endless fight. 

Sol landed on a higher palisade of the wall, and beamed at Cann when they followed suit. “Let it never be said you don’t deliver, Canopus.”

“Never be said?” Cann asked. “Even by you?”

The joke lacked their usual flair. Still, Sol didn’t let that chip away at the euphoria of a hard-won victory. “You’ll catch me saying no such thing.” He clapped Cann on the shoulder. “Truthfully, I don’t know how you—”

The force of the playful hit made Cann stumble a step forward. They caught themself in time… but that slight gesture shouldn’t have fazed one of his strongest Stars at all. Sol noticed too late that they were clutching their robes pointedly to the side with both hands, as if to cover something.

He stood at attention, now alarmed. “Cann…?”

“It’s alright!” they managed through shallow breaths, smiling so genuinely that for a moment, Sol fully believed the words. “We won.”

They collapsed at his feet, and the protective dome above faded to nothing.

“No!” Sol sank to his knees beside them. He turned them over to reveal viscous black staining their robes. The lead Haunting had poisoned them in the scuffle; it had corroded deep enough to graze their skin. He brought a flaming palm to the sizzling wound. Even in the warmth of his arms, Cann was shivering. Their eyes did not open. “Fight it,” he begged.

He couldn’t win this way. This cost was too much to bear. 

“Over there!” a voice called from the sky. V led Cyon and Pav to the wall, their excitement and relief palpable through the wind. As they flew closer though, V’s smile instantly fell. The three Stars landed on the top of the wall.

“Cann, you idiot…” V cursed under their breath. “What happened?”

“I used the sun to drive them out,” Sol said, not taking his eyes off Cann.

“Oh?” Pav asked, with barely restrained glee.

“But I made certain no one would see it.”

“Naturally,” Cyon said, pointedly glaring at Pav. “Because how thoughtless would the alternative have been, right?” 

Sol’s face burned with embarrassment. As if he needed to be told now.

“Both of you need to shut it!” V took it upon themself to say. “Make yourselves useful and get them to Sirius, before the Haunting venom spreads too far.”

The Stars gently pried Cann away from Sol’s grasp. Still continuing their debate wordlessly with their eyes, Cyon and Pav flew off, supporting Cann’s weight between them. Sol watched after them, only snapping out of his thoughts when V spoke.

“The old ‘illusion of safety’ curtain trick, yes?” V asked, impressed. “Why didn’t I think of that?” 

“Would it have ended better if you had?”

“Don’t say that, it ended well enough! If the Hauntings have even half a brain between them, you scared them off for good!” V argued. “And Cann will be fine. It’s Cann, for skies’ sake.”

“They better be.”

V sighed. “I’m going to clean up this mess.” They gestured vaguely to the fires and black puddles. “Go back to the palace. See how they’re holding up.”

Sol was off to the palace practically before they finished speaking. To mask his flight, he followed a sunbeam; it was, thankfully, much easier to disguise himself in the daytime.

He practically kicked down the ornate door to the chapel. 

“Come now!” Sirius was saying. His gloves were off, and his constant flames were uninhibited as he tried to hold a struggling Cann down to the altar. He was succeeding, but only barely; Cann almost matched his strength. “Would it end to you hold still for—”

Sol cleared his throat, and the two of them snapped to attention. “Everything is in order, I assume?” he said.

“Yes, my king!” Sirius said. “But I need to attend to them at least until noon. It’s simply Haunting wound protocol.”

Cann scoffed. “Spare me the protocol, Sirius. The poison barely even took.”

Sirius crossed his arms. “And whose fire is to be credited for that?”

“If I may,” Sol said, amused. “Sirius, allow me a word with Cann. Protocol will be followed unfettered after this.”

Sirius bowed his head and stood. “As you wish.” Leaning closer to Sol, he whispered, “Make sure to dedicate at least some of your time to telling them to stay put.” He vacated the chapel, leaving Sol and Cann alone and shutting the door securely behind him. 

“Ironic,” Cann remarked. “That he believes you can tell me anything about staying put.”

Sol didn’t return the humor. “Do not deflect from the matter at hand.”

“Oh, are we doing this? Fine,” Cann said with a roll of their eyes, like they were being asked to perform a menial chore. “Yes, I’m perfectly intact and will be back to fighting shape by next sunrise. No, the poison is not your fault, and if you even try to insist otherwise, you fundamentally misunderstand why I followed you. And don’t worry, as far as the other Stars will know, your unbelievably rash stunt did not happen, and the curtain was our brilliant plan all along.” They took a breath. “Did I miss anything?”

Sol stammered a few half hearted responses, having to give up in the end to avoid appearing even more foolish. He took a seat beside Cann. “I wish you would stop taking all the gravitas out of my heartstopping speeches,” he said finally, smiling despite himself.

“You are very predictable.”

Companionable silence overtook them. Sol draped a wing around Cann’s side in case the biting cold of the poison hadn't subsided. Cann did not pull away.

“It bothers you, doesn't it?” they asked softly. “That I can read your intentions like an open book, but you can never have that certainty about mine?”

“It would help,” Sol admitted. “If I knew you intended to take every hit at the wall…”

“You couldn't have stopped me,” Cann said. “No more than I could have stopped you from sneaking out.”

“Well, thank the skies for that, I suppose.” He watched the murals around him, feeling pride, more powerful than the envy or indifference the pieces had inspired before. Despite it all, the truth remained that he’d survived more in the past hours than the commemorated mortals would face in a lifetime. He could make peace with that, if nothing else. “Stardom lives to see another day.”

[sswriters]

[ibnabdullah]

"How many times I wished days may pass, forgetting that it's my own life."

[cavalierzee]

Israeli Snipers Execute Mother, Wound Child

Israel is a society composed of bloodthirsty savages!

May God damn them!

[al-islam]

السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته

We all know that when Allah commanded the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ to proclaim the message openly, he ascended Mount Safa in Mecca and called the people to gather, raising his voice. The Prophet ﷺ gathered Quraysh and said to them, "Ya sons of so-and-so! Ya sons of Abd Manaf! Ya sons of Abd al-Muttalib!" until they all assembled around him.

He said ﷺ to them, "If I were to tell you that an enemy on horseback is about to attack you from the valley, would you believe me?" They replied, "Yes, we have never experienced anything but truthfulness from you."

Their affirmative response shows the extent of the Prophet's influence on his people even before the revelation. He was highly respected and trusted. This makes the Prophet an influential figure among his people.

Then the Prophet said, "I am a warner to you before a severe punishment."

Abu Lahab, the Prophet’s own uncle, responded, saying, "Woe to you! Is this why you gathered us?" استغفر الله

We all know that influential people are often confronted or challenged only by other influential figures. Among those who stood against the Prophet ﷺ was Abu Lahab, who uttered those vile words. This leads us to reflect on an important principle: Not every influential person is truthful, and not every speaker is sincere.

So please take care of what you listen to and who you allow to influence your mind. May Allah bless you, for the deceivers have multiplied, and foolishness has spread, along with those who falsely claim to be rightly guided. Corrupt influencers are on the rise as well. Just because someone has millions of followers does not mean their words are truthful or should be taken to heart. If Abu Lahab were with us today, he would likely have many followers because of the influence he held over his people. So, beware.

[deenihacker]

Eid- Al- Adha in Gaza

Israeli forces killed at least 12 Palestinians, including children, in attacks on Rafah and Bureij refugee camp on June 16, the first day of Eid al Adha, in Palestine’s Gaza

[angrybell]

Released by the IDF spokesman’s twitter about an hour ago.

According to the translation, Hamas is sure that it was a PIJ rocket that hit the hospital, not Israel.

[writerfarzanatutul]

Islamic short story

Sabrina gazed out the window, captivated by a single golden leaf. Its descent was a slow, graceful ballet, fluttering down to settle gently on the ground. Though a simple sight, it filled her with awe. "MashAllah!" she whispered, a prayer of gratitude on her lips. Allah سبحانه وتعالى (SWT) has woven beauty into such an ordinary thing.

Just then, a notification chirped on her phone. It wasn't a text or a message, but a Quranic verse displayed on her news feed: "Not a leaf falls but that He (Allah) knows it (Quran 6:59)." A radiant smile bloomed on her face.

[gouinisme]

every time i find myself in muslim insta comment sections i go insane, i grew to resent islam but my experience with it was chill as hell compared to bitches in comment section, they'll call fucking anything haram, it's like they're fucking gatekeeping the religion. they sound like fucking catholics if i'm being honest

[constantvariations]

You can tell the writers had no clue what to do with Blake because both the Black Trailer and the Blake Short have her playing support to more interesting characters

[en-scribed]

THE THREE BIRDS [fantasy short story]

Personified immortal Stars have lived secretly on Earth throughout history. This piece takes place in 13th century Iran, notable for astronomical scholarship, and Arabic star names are used as the main roots. Waqi (currently the Star Vega) leads Taira (Altair) and Dhanab (Deneb) on a mission to secure the Stars' carefully kept secret existence. The Stars' world was created by myself and @heirmyst. Next post: [ORION'S FINEST] [GATHERER OF GRAIN] [CENTER OF THE WORLD] Word count: 5,201

Waqi climbed the sky higher, relentlessly battling the air with every flap of their wings. As they gained altitude, frost dared to gather on their face. Unfazed, they summoned latent blue fire from within, melting it on immediate impact. 

Good attempt, nature, they thought, smiling into the forceful wind. But only I decide when to stop.

Except even the grandest flights rested on the premise of a zenith… and its aftermath. Finally, air thinned to nothing, and Earth below seemed a faint suggestion of matter. The time had come. Waqi slowed the frenzied movement of their wings.

They took a deep breath, savoring the moment. “Here it comes.”

Then, they let themself fall. 

The air just barely carried the sound they let out, halfway between a laugh and a scream of delight.

This was their favorite part. They would never admit it on the ground, where every part of them itched to fight the atmosphere with their wings and fly, however high the day would let them. Many times, they’d said to other Stars that they’d happily give up immortality if it meant they could fly for the rest of their existence, and the sentiment was barely a joke. But the fall? They lived for it, and the air as they burned their way down was the sweetest they’d ever taste.

Clouds faded into view, gray and rumbling, preparing to unleash a deluge onto Iran. Waqi’s fists heated up, glowing with ready blasts; they could not let this unacceptable weather stand. 

They plunged into the mess. When fog took over their vision, they pivoted sharply, punching at the nearest storm cloud. The lightning crackling inside was no match for Waqi’s own strikes of energy. They cut through the surrounding air in a wide arc, so swiftly that the clouds vanished with a whimper.

“You tried,” Waqi said, laughing to themself as they took off to vanquish the brewing storm from the rest of the sky. 

They moved with instinctive ease when they shed their corporeal form to become a merciless blue lightning bolt. It was less satisfying than punches and blasts, but it killed every threatened storm before it got the chance to materialize, all the while keeping Waqi hidden from any onlooking human’s eyes.

Of course, the tactic traded away precision for raw power. 

They didn’t process hitting the wrong target until the voices rang out. 

“Waqi!” Dhanab yelled, halting the excitement with a start. “What in the skies did you do that for?”

Waqi shifted back into their usual form, steadying their flight with their wings and blinking the scene before them into clarity. Their Star friends Dhanab and Taira hovered in front of them. Dhanab was scrambling to cover her head. Taira had stopped midway through braiding Dhanab’s hair, barely containing laughs. 

Slowly, Waqi turned around. Remnants of lightning floated in empty air, having burned a hole in the white cloud structure around them. They’d destroyed a Star lodging. For the third time that week. And this time, they didn’t get to pretend they were heroically fighting monstrous Hauntings, because this was nothing but a cloud punching spree.

They faced their friends with a sheepish smile. “I’ve interrupted something, I gather?”

“I’d say so, yes,” Taira said lightly, at the same time as Dhanab muttered, “Not the first time.”

“In my defense,” Waqi began. “I had—”

“North Star duties,” the two finished in unison.

Waqi looked away, sighing. There went their excuse. “I don’t suppose you’ll allow me to make it up to you?”

A scheming smirk crept across Dhanab’s face. “Taira?”

“Hm.” Taira stretched and cracked her joints in preparation. “Since you've so kindly offered...”

Waqi had barely enough time to summon a defensive forcefield when Taira shot toward them with unbelievable speed. She tackled them off the cloud’s ledge. Waqi fought to keep their flight steady among her unpredictable movements and countered her every hit. Laughing all the way, they tumbled wherever Taira wished, because as strong as a flier as Waqi was, they only fought the air; Taira held it at her command. 

“Unfair!” Waqi protested, pushing Taira’s voluminous wind blown hair away from their own face. “I’m taking this up with the king!” 

“What’s the matter?” Taira said, between laughs. “Holding back so I’ll be taken off guard by your next move?”

Waqi caught her next punches, holding both of her hands in place with a surge of lightning. They grinned. “You know me too well. This is a tactical liability.” 

She cried out as Waqi seized her hair and flipped her over their head. As soon as they readied their next blast, their arm locked up, illuminating with a silvery blue glow. 

The rest of their body followed. Taira also froze. The two Stars’ descent had been halted by a joy-killing outside force.

“Dhanab!” Waqi yelled to the sky. “It was just going to get good!” 

Taira snorted. “For you, maybe.”

Dhanab swooped gracefully down from above, landing only a few feet below without breaking her telekinetic hold on the other two. Waqi gaped. Were they that close to the ground already? 

“Do you want to let all of Maragha in on the secret?” Dhanab asked, gesturing frantically to the town behind her. 

“Oh, we’re in trouble now?” Taira asked.

“You will be, keeping this up,” Dhanab said. “Two wild winged beasts screaming and clawing at each other is hardly discreet.”

Waqi raised an eyebrow. “And two wild winged beasts suspended in midair by a third, decidedly more stuck-up winged beast… is?” 

Dhanab opened her mouth to argue, then shrugged. “Point taken.” With one wave of her hand, the glow faded, and Waqi and Taira collapsed in a heap on the ground. 

Waqi brushed themself free. Dhanab pointedly looked past them in favor of helping Taira up. Only Taira.

“The disrespect,” Waqi said with mock offense, forcing themself to their feet. “This is how you treat your North Star?”

Dhanab smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t dream of insinuating the North Star could possibly need my help.”

Waqi rolled their eyes and shifted their attention to the sky. At least from here, they could check whether they’d succeeded in averting the storm. They expected to see clear blue conditions, plagued by a few maddening remnants of a storm they happened to miss. Instead they were met with… a sunset. In the distance, the town of Maragha seemed to come alive, suddenly bustling with movement.

“Oh no,” Taira said quietly behind them.

“I know,” they agreed, exasperated, glaring at the accursed observatory on a nearby hill. “Now we’ll have to listen to the evening prayer.”

“I like the sound of the prayer,” Dhanab said quietly.

Taira shook her head. “It isn’t that! The sun set too early.” Oh, Waqi thought. They’d assumed they simply lost track of time once more. “Waqi,” Taira said, all humor gone from her voice. Disoriented by the sudden change in mood, Waqi turned to face her. “This is a whole hour early.”

Dhanab’s eyes widened. “An hour? Did the king tell you anything about this?”

Waqi laughed, but their voice shook with uncertainty. “There you two go, taking everything the sky does so seriously…” 

“Even if we didn’t, the humans would!” Dhanab argued. “Especially here. Their prayer relies on this, you think they won’t look into the situation? And if they look too deep, they’ll find us, and then the secret keepers might tell on us too, and—”

“Dhanab.” Taira wrapped an arm around her. “Slow down. Breathe.” She looked to Waqi for support.

 Their words caught in their throat. Skies above, they had not expected a morale strengthening task today. “I’ll… speak to Sol,” they blurted out, “and get this all sorted! He’ll play some trick of sunlight, hide the irregularity. This kind of thing is easy for him! It will be fine.”

The Star king’s name seemed to put the two at ease. Yes, Sol would fix this, and Waqi would have free reign to make fun of his overly dramatic success speeches to his face afterward. That was how this was supposed to go.

“Before that,” Taira piped up, “maybe we can go and ask director Tusi’s minions what they think is happening.” She tilted head toward the observatory. “To see how much damage we’ll have to undo.”

Waqi made a face at the thought of vanishing their wings. “Go and ask. In the guise of a human?”

“As a man?” Dhanab added, equally offended. “No, thank you.”

Both of them stared at Taira. She sighed, closing her wings and gathering up her long cloudlike tresses. “The usual, I see.”

“Don’t act as if you don’t like it,” Dhanab said.

Taira winked at her. “I let you off the hook only because you’re too beautiful to pass as a man.” 

Dhanab flushed, but got to work on tearing a section of her own outer robes, wrapping it around Taira’s hair as a makeshift turban.

“You could just give over your scarf,” Waqi pointed out.

“Waqi, please!” Dhanab said, scandalized. “I am not going to stay out here uncovered!”

That sounded absolutely ridiculous, but Waqi chose not to argue. They never did see the point in bothering with matters of earthly conduct, when by all means the Stars were meant to live above them all. This is why they could never stomach any task that involved walking among humans. Their status as North Star, Stardom’s first line of defense, would surely get lost among the endless customs and rules that every other little kingdom offered a different version of. Such a life was inconceivable.

Still, they noticed that Dhanab was pointedly trying to avoid being perceived with torn robes. Wordlessly, they walked in such a way to conceal her from any passersby’s view, keeping a low profile as they trailed Taira.

Not that Taira made it particularly easy. 

With a skip in his step, Taira closed in on the observatory hill at a quick pace. Too quick. The other two almost struggled to keep up and stay hidden at the same time.

“What’s his hurry?” Waqi whispered to Dhanab.

“You know Taira,” Dhanab said. “At least he hasn’t resorted to flying. Yet.”

Waqi and Dhanab stopped at a distance, hanging back as Taira went on. He reached the entrance of the central observatory tower, greeting the two workers outside like old friends. One of the men straightened up to receive the new company, while the other remained pointedly occupied perusing an astronomical manual.

“Peace be upon you, brothers!” Taira said. “I could not help noticing that the sun has been down for several counts too far, and I have not heard the call for Maghrib yet.”

“Upon you be peace. I do not know what to tell you, Al-Ta’ir,” the attentive man said, his tone apologetic, as if he was fully ready to take the blame for the heavens breaking an otherwise flawless pattern. “Sirvan and I have been in conversation all day, and we haven’t yet reached an impasse.”

“Forget this pretense, Payam. Tell him like it is!” the other man, Sirvan snapped. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration and, without warning, shoved the manual in Taira’s face. “Look at this!” 

Taira stayed silent for too long. “Yes,” he said, purely to appease the worker. “This is… most irregular.”

“Irregular,” Sirvan said with a bitter laugh. “For all our lives the sky stays constant! Predictable! ‘Study the heavens,’ Tusi tells us, ‘Mark prayers as God commands!’ How were we meant to know the sun can set anytime!”

Waqi rolled their eyes. Humans truly believed their neat tables could map the skies out to the letter. As if the Stars had nothing better to do than move in strict patterns for their convenience. An impulsive lightning blast threatened to break free at their fist. Dhanab touched their hand, stopping it right there.

“I believe I should call out Maghrib now,” Payam said carefully. “The people will be concerned.”

“Concerned?” Sirvan said, baffled. “This is unlike anything we’ve seen!”

Taira wisely saw his exit. “Thank you, brothers,” he said, though Sirvan’s diatribe about the fundamental principles of the sun’s movement drowned it out. “I trust your decision, and eagerly await your call.” Meaningfully, he caught Payam’s eye at the last word.

With that, Taira left the scene as swiftly as he’d arrived, regrouping with Dhanab and Waqi. 

“Overreacting scholars,” Waqi said. “This is probably nothing!” 

Taira ignored them. “Payam is the muazzin. I’ve dropped as many suggestions as it’s appropriate for me to do. I think we’ll be in the clear, if he can get his volatile brother calmed or distracted long enough to call the prayer.”

“I hope he does,” Dhanab said softly.

“That’s all we can do for our coverup on the human side, but we’ll stick around just in case.” Taira turned to Waqi. “The rest is up to you. Ask Sol what’s going on. He’s the only one who can make this seamless.”

Waqi nodded. This, at least, they could do. Leaving their friends at the hill, they crept a safe distance away from wandering townspeople’s eyes. 

Then, they opened their wings and shot off into the early night sky. The air was clear, carrying that sweet tropical taste that came only when the dark settled and—

Focus, they reminded themself, shaking off the intoxication. This flight had to be short, direct. Purely economical. 

They ascended just enough for their head to peek through clouds.

Waqi looked around, and almost didn’t recognize Sol’s home at first. They were so used to the sight of extravagantly piled clouds, reflecting sunlight with infuriating perfection, that they only processed the black clouds in front of them as an incoming weather disaster.

Somewhere on the way to destroying the storm, they realized it floated where their best friend’s home should have been.

“Sol?” Waqi’s voice broke embarrassingly at the call of his name. 

Any moment, the only part of them still clinging to hope insisted. Any moment, Sol would fly out, laugh triumphantly about his incredible unexpected practical joke, and fix everything.

No answer came.

Waqi rammed themself into the mass of black clouds, their mind racing. The structure fell apart pathetically, the only sign of Sol’s brilliant presence being stray plumes of flame. Actual flame. Not the inviting light that always decorated the king’s home. 

Waqi emerged on the other side into empty air. The home being deserted, leaving only storm clouds and flame, and whatever the early sunset was… 

All signs pointed to a struggle. 

Waqi glared at the remnants of black smoke around them with newfound hatred. This was no longer annoying weather. It was the herald of the enemies—assassins—who took Sol away… and after seeing it, Waqi was sitting here, staring into space like an idiot.

They needed to act now. In a flash of blue lightning, they dived, right back to the spot where they left their friends. The grass beneath them caught fire as the shock of the ground returned them to their corporeal form. Before they had time to breathe, someone grabbed their shoulder.

“Careful! You’ll—” Dhanab’s usual chiding stopped short, and her face softened into concern. “What happened?”

Waqi tried to contort their features into something less alarming. Judging by their friends’ confused glances, it did not work.

“What did the king say?” Taira asked. “He didn’t deny the request, did he?”

A laugh, clipped and shaky, escaped Waqi’s throat at the question. “It’s a hard thing even for him, to deny something he hasn’t even heard,” they said. “Something broke into his home. Only storm clouds remain there.”

A shadow passed over the other two’s faces. Taira took a deep breath. “Please don’t tell me…”

“Hauntings?” Dhanab asked, her voice small. It was barely a question. 

“Listen to me,” Waqi said, grasping her hand, suddenly emboldened by their friends’ clear panic. Waqi couldn’t afford to be scared when they had other Stars to worry about. “No one can hear of this. Not until we get to the bottom of it.”

“Waqi,” Taira said. They couldn’t help but flinch. They hated when all playfulness faded from her voice like that. “This isn’t some accidental cabin fire we can just pretend is an act of nature. This is an attempted Haunting assassination, and if those monsters even got to the king, what chance—”

“They didn’t get to him!” Waqi snapped. “It’s Sol! Skies above, will you have some faith? For all we know, he reduced them all to ashes and is just… hunting for a new home. Or better yet, for the assassins’ allies.”

This half of North Star duties, the one which was conquered by words rather than fire, never came naturally to Waqi. Yet, often, they found they could simply speak anything into existence, and if it softened even a single line of worry on a fellow Star’s face, it would do the trick. For better or worse, Waqi held all the cards here. They knew Sol better than anyone; whatever they said about him, the other two had to take it by necessity. 

Waqi needed to take it too. It was all they had.

“You’re right,” Dhanab said, mercifully. “Yes, that must be it!” 

“So, all we do is track him down. It’s the same plan as before… just with this extra step.” They spoke feverishly right as the words came to them. “Taira. Those trails of dark smog from Hauntings are left in the sky for hours after the fact, are they not?”

Taira nodded, a hint of her usual laidback confidence returning to her eyes. “If the monsters escaped—”

“There’s no way in hell Sol would let them go free without pursuit,” Waqi finished. They braced themself for flight. “Lead the way. We’re right behind you.”

And so, the three Stars took to the skies. They cast jokes and idle conversation between themselves like playing balls, masking any unwanted urgency. The premature night hung around them heavily. Even as they followed the sickening, viscous Haunting trail, no one dared to suggest the unspoken; that the king was likely in danger and it may be up to them to save him. Sol was supposed to save them, not the other way around.

You’re fine, Sol, Waqi thought to themself repeatedly, reassuring their own mind and daring their friend to meet the challenge. They need you to be fine. You can give them that much.

Give me that much.

When the trail ended its forward snaking in the sky and dissolved into fog, Taira began to descend and the other two followed. An expansive lake awaited them below. It boiled furiously, despite the cool night, sending warm air towards the Stars.

“Here we are,” Taira whispered. “Now, either the Hauntings show themselves, or Sol comes out… let’s hope we don’t have to do something drastic.”

Waqi strained their eyes to see the lake past the fog. Why was it boiling? “I swear… why can’t we just—”

“Don’t summon a flame,” Dhanab warned, reading their mind. “Wait for it.”

“Wait?” Waqi shot back, incredulous. “For them to—”

Something shot out of the lake. One projectile gave way to several, piercing the silence with the high whistles of Haunting laughter. The fog stopped the Stars from seeing the attack, but they all heard it, and knew the lack of light would not let them dodge. Taira screamed as a Haunting assailant tackled her into the darkness.

“No!” Dhanab instantly moved to follow Taira’s faint white flame. 

Waqi prepared a blast. “Leave it to me!” 

Dhanab blocked their path, taking hold of their shoulders. “I’ve got her. You should look for the king.”

Look for the king. Waqi knew what she meant to say, but they resented the wording anyway. It was far too close to acknowledging the danger they’d so carefully chosen to downplay. Still, she stayed, her gaze lingering on them with clear anxiety. She wouldn’t go without their express order.

“Go,” Waqi told her. “Do… whatever it is you were already going to.”

She smiled, relieved. “North Star duty!” she called out encouragingly, flitting away to Taira’s aid. 

Dropping every precaution about stealth, Waqi lit themself up in a burst of blue flame. The fog lifted. Finally, finally, they could see their attackers, scattered in midair and on the banks of the lake; without the cloak of darkness, the Hauntings carried forms befitting creatures of earth, except far too big, and closer to humans in terms of gait and clarity of disruptive purpose. This assortment of aquatic bait froze in fear at Waqi’s explosion, even the overgrown shrimp that had Dhanab and Taira locked in battle. Waqi relished the look of shock on the monsters’ faces. Clearly, they hadn’t been expecting the North Star. 

Just as quickly, they recovered with shrill battle cries, and the inky fog wafted into the air once more. This time, Waqi was ready.

They shot lightning indiscriminately, warding off the first few human-sized black crustacean Hauntings that leapt up at them. The flame stayed steady all the way, keeping their sight clear throughout every scuffle. The effort of keeping up defenses still remained a liability. They could not take in a single iota of their surroundings if every moment was punctuated by a strike at the relentless Haunting flock.

“Clear me an opening!” Waqi yelled to their friends.

Practically before Waqi finished speaking, it was done. Dhanab seized telekinetic control of the flock’s edges, and Taira sped to take out anyone who dared step into Waqi’s radius. 

With newfound freedom, Waqi began a swift descent… and it allowed them a crucial glance at the mysteriously boiling lake.

A golden light flickered beneath, its glow coloring fire into the angry waters.

Sol.

Waqi didn’t think. They dove headfirst, the fall heating up their every inch. Hauntings cried out, attempted a poorly thought out deflection, but Waqi’s fire now radiated fatally. Just try it now, they dared the assassins. Naturally, not a single one met the challenge.

The saline water greeted them all at once. 

Any numbing power it might have had over Waqi was warded off by the burning field surrounding them. They had bigger concerns.

“You came,” said an unmistakable voice behind them, with a tone of never having expected anything else. “My one and only North Star.”

Waqi turned sharply to look at Sol, relief and frustration warring within them for the chance to guide their response. Neither got the chance, because an ink-black current hit them instead. 

The staggering force threw them back, until they wedged their feet against the lake floor and opened their wings. They summoned a field of energy, protecting them from the onslaught. Waqi stepped forward, fighting the water with all they had, and broke into a run. The Hauntings they rammed into crumpled at the slightest touch of fire. 

Waqi had help down here too. Sol’s pillar of flame, emboldened by the new arrival, burned brighter, working with Waqi’s to purify the waters. When the blackness cleared, the piscine Hauntings that cast the torrent at them instantly skittered away from fear. Good.

At long last, the sunny glow was uninhibited. Every malicious assassin who stood between Waqi and Sol had been vanquished. As for Sol himself, his wings had been folded down and forcibly fastened to a rock formation by the Hauntings’ signature viscous ink. His brilliant golden locks, plumes of flame that had been boiling the lake from underneath, finally settled into soft waves. Despite the tired, sunken shadows beneath his eyes, he beamed at his friend like nothing had happened.

“I take it you have questions,” Sol said, calm as ever.

“Oh, you don't know the half of it. Hold still!” Waqi struck Sol’s restraints with lightning, setting his wings free. Sol stumbled forward from the sudden unshackling, and Waqi moved to steady him. “Do you need a moment?”

Any sign of weakness faded as his eyes flashed with clear offense. “Who in the everloving skies do you think I am?” 

Waqi laughed. There he was. “I was only making sure. Come on!” 

They seized his arm, guiding him to the surface until his wings recovered enough to pull his own weight. Waqi made it to the surface first, taking in the taste of pure wind and then turning to help Sol onto solid ground. A clear night sky shone above them, decorated with stars, free of any fog. The smell of charred flesh and the odd black puddle on the bank were the only signs that Hauntings had even been there.

“Well done,” Sol said, finally allowing Waqi to unclench their muscles. He’d said the word, so the fight was over.

A short distance away, Dhanab stood over Taira, no doubt fussing endlessly over every minor scratch Taira had sustained during her scuffle with the shrimp Haunting. All the while, Taira stared at her, smiling like she’d won something beyond the fight, not making a single move to stop her. Waqi rolled their eyes fondly. Those two could accomplish untold feats exemplifying every Star ideal, and still act afterward more like illicitly close adolescent human girls.

Sol strode toward them. “I see I have you two to thank for this infestation’s defeat.”

Dhanab jumped to attention, rushing to adjust her scarf. “My king! It is… an immeasurable relief to see you again.”

He laughed good naturedly, extending a hand to help Taira to her feet. “Are you alright?”

She took it. “That shrimp was far sturdier than he looked.”

“You must forgive me for the confusion this must have caused,” Sol said, and Waqi made a considerable effort to not bite back in the presence of their friends. “As valiantly as you fought, I never like having to send you all into Haunting territory.”

Taira scoffed. “You didn’t need us, my king. We all saw how you boiled the lake. Waqi told us on the way you were probably destroying them already, and they were right!”

Sol turned to Waqi, an unspoken question in his eyes. Waqi met his eyes meaningfully. Later, they tried to tell him.

Dhanab cleared her throat. “There’s still the matter of… the early sunset,” she said, thankfully changing the subject. “The humans were very shaken up.”

“Ah,” Sol said, glaring at the sky with truly personal resentment. “An unfortunate side effect of my… divergence, after the assassination attempt.” He stood up straighter. “No matter. The irregularities will be smoothed over by next morning. And our North Star here can convey the desired story to the secret keepers.”

“What?” Waqi protested. “Please don’t make me talk to Tusi again! He’s insufferable!”

The other three laughed, because Waqi’s misfortune was the joke that united them all. Some friends, Waqi thought, though they couldn’t stop their smile. 

Taira stretched out her arms. They cracked painfully, sending out sparks, but she pretended not to notice. “Well, that’s taken care of. I should check Maragha’s parameter for any runaways.”

“Absolutely not,” Sol scolded. “Dhanab, get her straight home and make sure she doesn’t set a single wingbeat out until next sunrise. This is an order.”

Already at attention, Dhanab grabbed Taira’s hand and spread her wings. “Yes, my king! Let’s go, Waqi.”

“You two go ahead,” they said, mustering all the cheer they could. “I need to speak with the king.”

It was a common enough request that the two didn’t think twice about. Waqi watched as arm in arm, Dhanab and Taira took off into the sky, chattering between themselves about plans for the next day. 

Once they were sure the two were out of earshot, Waqi punched Sol in the face.

Sol, naturally, barely flinched. “And here I thought you’d be the bigger Star about this,” he said flatly.

Waqi swung another fist, overflowing with everything they’d been holding back. “The bigger Star? You—” They pointed an accusing, lightning infused finger, giving up all pretense of being the unbothered North Star. “—scared the absolute shit out of me, you know that?”

Sol sighed. “Of course. I realize it was not ideal, but—”

“I had to tell them you were fine.” Breathlessly, they laughed, because the absurdity didn’t let them react any other way. “I mean, even after the sunset, I’d seen the state of your home. And I had to look them in the eyes and tell them you weren’t in trouble. And all this time, the Hauntings actually overpowered you, imprisoned you in a fucking lake? They could’ve hurt you, or worse!” 

“They could have done no such thing,” Sol said, so emphatically that it actually gave Waqi pause. “I was in no danger. I knew you’d come.”

“Oh, please…”

Sol took their shoulders and stared them right in the eye. Quietly, with terrifying emphasis, he said, “I let them capture me.” 

Waqi froze, at a loss for words.

“I had no time to decide.” He spoke hurriedly, like he needed to make Waqi understand in the shortest time possible. “The assassins came, and all I could think was, are there others nearby, and will they hurt the other Stars if I don’t act? I allowed my home to be ransacked, and I allowed them the false sense of confidence to imprison me. And… the plan had been to do away with them all once they took me to their base, but…”

“The lake,” Waqi finished. “And the darkness, and the combined force of the flock. Just one of those three at a time you could’ve taken. Not all at once.”

“It did not end me, or even hurt much. It did worse, momentarily weakening me enough that I couldn’t fight back. I counted on you to finish it for me.” Finally taking a breath, he smiled. “And you did.”

Any trace of lingering anger Waqi might have harbored evaporated. They pulled Sol into an embrace, taking great pleasure in the fact that he, eternal king of Stars, melted into it instantly. “You know I always will,” they said, and they meant it. Sol was put on such a pedestal by other Stars, and Waqi knew how thin he was spread because of it. They were the one person he had to fall back on; this was the least they could do. “Still, for the love of the skies, never pull something like this again. Your grand kingly plans are going to be the death of me.”

“But you cannot die.”

“I’m also best friends with a king who believes the basic principles of reality are optional,” they joked, letting go of the hug. “It’s safer to not take anything for granted.”

“That sounds fair,” Sol conceded. “All of this aside, I will ask you… keep the reality of this day between us.”

Waqi nodded. As if they needed to be told. “I’m not your trusted North Star for nothing.” They beat their wings twice and rose, itching to take to a clear sky for the first time that day. “Get up here!” they called down to Sol. 

“To where?” he said with a laugh. “You know what became of my home.”

“Well, fortunately for you, I’m feeling daring today,” they said. “I think it’s about time I rebuild a cloud home, instead of crushing every one I touch.”