Since the night before, her hazel eyes had known no rest. She lay still, staring into the void. Even when the sun cast its gentle arrows to pierce her soul, she did not move. She was like a beautiful statue adorning that lavish chamber. Anyone who saw her lying there would have thought her a contented princess. In truth, she was a prisoner within her own home, living under something close to house arrest.
Part of it she had chosen herself. She had never tried to open the door and did not know whether it was locked. Yet for some reason, she had always been able to anticipate his steps and stay ahead of his thoughts. Except for last night. Last night, her instinct failed her and abandoned her in the midst of frustration and defeat. How arrogant she had been about her abilities. And the thought never left her mind that the devil still roamed the land, free and unrestrained.
At last, after a long while, she turned toward the sun. She allowed its rays to brush her face, searching for a trace of tenderness amid the anger tightening around her from every side.
The sun of Behraman was gentle, unlike the sun of Wahat al-Ghanimah, whose harshness had left its mark on her skin. How many beautiful days she had lived in that oasis, accompanied by those unforgiving rays through her small, reckless adventures.
So what had changed?
She tried to remember. What was the spark that had brought her to this edge? What had filled her once-innocent soul with such hatred?
She knew the answer. It was that cursed letter, the one that had overturned all their lives. No matter how she tried to distract herself, her thoughts spun in a closed circle, always returning to a single word she could not drive from her mind.
"Burned."
"Burned."
"Burned."
That page of her memory was empty of everything except those four letters. A fire ignited within her each time the word surfaced. And yet today, for some reason, the memory returned in full detail, determined to shatter whatever remained of her.
It dragged her back to the spark itself.
"In the name of Allah, the Most Merciful, the Most Compassionate.
From the Supreme Judicial Diwan of the House of the Zuhayri Caliphate,
to the family of the scribe Qutaybah ibn Ghiyath al-Haysani.
Peace be upon those who follow guidance.
Upon review of the authenticated testimonies submitted, and after the judiciary verified multiple indications and evidences, it has been established before the Ruling Council that the aforementioned was involved in acts leading to sedition, seeking to undermine the Caliphate, and cooperating in secret with its enemies.
Accordingly, and in accordance with law, judgment has been passed sentencing him to execution by burning, as just retribution. The sentence was carried out on Monday, the twenty-third of Dhu al-Qi'dah, in the year one hundred and eighty-one after the Hijra.
We ask Allah to spare the Ummah from trials, both apparent and hidden.
Allah is the Guardian of all affairs."
Every letter was heavy. Every word cut deep. She read the letter once, twice, three times, then again and again, until Sarah finally pulled it from her hands. One of them had to remain standing, and in that moment, it was Sarah.
Rufaidah remembered how she stood frozen in place, trying to fix her gaze on something, anything, as if trying to grasp what was happening around her.
Only minutes passed before she clung to a foolish excuse and cried out,
"They are lying!"
She gripped Sarah's hand tightly and continued, her voice shaking,
"Someone is deceiving us. This cannot be true. Come with me. We will go to the Sheikh and hear it from him ourselves."
Sarah already knew the truth. The seal of the Caliphate was unmistakable, and every detail of the letter screamed authenticity. One truth, and everything else a lie.She yielded to the grieving sister.
Night had drawn its curtain, cloaking the world in darkness. Sand lashed against their faces as they walked. One of them moved with fierce determination, the other struggled to follow with hesitant, broken steps. Though the path to the home of Sheikh Aban, the elder of the village, was short, the war drums pounding inside Rufaidah drowned out everything else. The hot air scorched her lungs, yet it was not enough to steady her breath.
They felt uneasy standing at his door so late into the night, but as always, the Sheikh welcomed them with warmth.
"You are most welcome," he said, then turned to Sarah. "How are the children?"
"We received a letter, Sheikh," Rufaidah interrupted, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she thrust the paper toward him. "We need you to tell us whether it is true."
He took the letter, turning it slowly in his hands, his aging eyes scanning its lines. His expression darkened as confusion settled over his features.
"It is forged, is it not?" Rufaidah asked urgently, grasping for relief. She turned to Sarah in sudden hope. "You see? Even the Sheikh doubts it."
"Breathe, Rufaidah," Sarah said firmly, her eyes fixed on Sheikh Aban.
He placed the letter before him and spoke with caution.
"I cannot deny it, my daughter. The seal of the Caliphate is clear and unquestionable."
Something inside Rufaidah shattered.
She had sensed it from the beginning, but she had fought against what she knew. The Sheikh did not follow her denial.
"But," he added.
Both women turned toward him at once.
"There are strange matters within the letter itself," he said slowly, as if unwilling to surrender to its entirety.
That fragile sliver of hope made her tremble where she stood.
"My Sheikh," Sarah said, her voice hoarse yet steady, "we only wish to be certain. Perhaps there has been confusion. Perhaps the names were mistaken."
They left his house that night with a promise. He would investigate further and urged them not to act until he returned with clarity.
The walk back was harsher than the first. Silence pressed heavily between them. Sarah's footsteps were slow, restrained, her breath uneven. Rufaidah did not know whether she was crying, but she heard her say quietly,
"Do not tell the children anything. Not yet."
"But it is a lie," Rufaidah whispered, clinging to the last shred of denial.
"There is a great lie in that letter," Sarah replied softly, then fell silent.
A silence that drove Rufaidah to madness that night.