Rasha grinned like a devil.
"Well well… speak of the desert ghost."
Heaven's heart skipped a beat.
There he was.
Still as a monolith. Still watching.
Malachi stood at the edge of the market like he hadn't moved since sunrise, a carved figure of shadow and silk. The wide black X across his back glinted faintly in the sun, the folds of his dark robe rustling ever so slightly with the hot breeze. His presence was as unnatural as it was commanding — and once again, the people around him noticed. Stared. Whispered.
"Well, I thought he'd be gone by now," Rasha said, narrowing her eyes and licking her lips like she'd spotted prey.
"But I guess he had a reason to stay behind in Dune."
She gave Heaven a playful slap on the shoulder.
"Let's go say hi."
Heaven hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Oh, come on," Rasha said, already grabbing her arm. "What's the worst that could happen? He already rejected you once—maybe it's my turn now."
Heaven rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed.
Together, they crossed the dusty square. Each step felt like a beat of thunder in her chest.
The vendors fell quieter as they passed. A pair of elderly women looked up from their baskets of spices. A child tugged his mother's robe, pointing toward the stranger in black. Even the wind seemed to hush.
When they reached him, Malachi turned — slowly, like he already knew.
He said nothing at first.
Then his gaze dropped slightly to Heaven, who met it with her usual guarded stillness, though something fluttered in her chest that she could not name.
"Morning," Rasha said, all teeth and charm. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon, Desert Ghost."
Malachi tilted his head. "That's not my name."
"But it suits you," she teased. "Mysterious. Brooding. Appears from nowhere, helps damsels with buckets, disappears into the sand. You've got the whole legend brewing."
He didn't respond. His eyes flicked between them, lingering briefly on Heaven before he looked away again.
Heaven shifted beside her friend. "What… are you doing here?"
Malachi looked out toward the city ,not at its buildings, but beyond. As if his thoughts were not in Dune at all.
"I have business," he said finally.
Heaven frowned. "Business… in Duneshara?"
Rasha narrowed her eyes, playful curiosity dripping from her tone. "What kind of business does a man like you have? You don't look like a merchant. More like… a wanderer. Or a war refugee."
Malachi didn't answer.
Instead, his eyes slowly returned to Heaven.
And then ,in a voice so low she barely heard he said,
"You said all men are like your father. Reckless. Careless. Selfish."
Heaven blinked, caught off guard.
Rasha raised her brows. Wait what? She said this and decided to leave it out?! Heaven got some explaining to do.
"But you're wrong," he continued, stepping closer, voice quiet. "Not all men are the same. Some carry guilt instead of greed. And some… some walk into cities not because they want to, but because something or someone called them there."
Heaven's breath hitched.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, barely a whisper.
He stared at her, then said softly,
"Because you look like someone who needs to hear it."
Malachi said, voice low and steady, the kind of voice that sank beneath skin and lingered in the bones.
Heaven stared at him, caught between the desert sun and the strange chill that ran down her spine.
Rasha's lips parted, her usual sass swallowed by a thick silence.
"How's your brother?" He suddenly changed the topic, catching both of them off guard again,
Rasha as always stared at heaven as she was shocked that she told him about her brother, seems like someone has interest in the desert ghost more than she knows.
"He's doing better" heaven answered
How did she know that? Irman is still in prison how did...after a long beat, her head tilted and her eyes narrowed in that sharp way of hers. "Wait… what is he talking about?" she asked, eyeing Heaven. "What's happened?"
Heaven blinked out of the moment. "What?"
Malachi said nothing, already turning his gaze to a stall nearby — one filled with curved blades and polished knives, their silver gleaming like moonlight in the sun. He studied them, indifferent now, as if the moment between them hadn't happened.
Rasha stepped forward. "What's he talking about, Heaven?"
Heaven's lips parted, but no sound came out.
"Don't you dare tell me you left out something important." Rasha crossed her arms. "You told me about Malachi. Every word, every insult, every breath. But you didn't tell me the most important thing."
Her voice softened at the edges. "Is Irman…?"
Heaven nodded, eyes cast low. "He's back. They brought him back at noon yesterday and….. He woke up last night."
Rasha let out a sharp breath, part gasp, part wounded laugh. "You didn't tell me."
"I wanted to—"
"But you didn't." Rasha scoffed. "You ran through your little romance drama but forgot to mention your baby brother's alive?"
"I'm sorry—"
Malachi, still studying the blades, glanced to the side. Heaven caught the faintest smirk pull at his lips before it vanished behind that same brooding stillness he wore like armor.
Heaven's cheeks burned with shame.
Rasha, for all her fire, didn't press further. She simply sighed and gave Heaven a slight nudge on the shoulder, forgiving her in silence as she always did.
"Sir would you like to buy one? If you can't choose the best blade among this then allow me to choose one for you" the owner suddenly said to the masked man.
But Malachi stared at the blades as he traced the sharp edges with his finger " no need" he put them down and said as he stared at the owner "they're useless "
Heaven, Rasha and the owner were dumbstruck by his answer with heaven thinking…
Rude bastard, it's fine id he talks to me in such manner but not an elder,
but the man himself Malachi didn't seem to be bothered by it. He stared at the two girls and told them
"I'll head off" he didn't even wait for their reply before he left.
Rasha shook her head, " As handsome as he looks, he's ruthless"
"And you want such a man in my life?"
"Am sure you can do something about his behavior, you can change him"
"If he cannot be taught a lesson by the desert how can I?"
The two of them laughed at that as they left heading their way to the bakery.
Heaven brought bread as they chatted and laughed together, seemed peaceful
But The peace didn't last long.
By the time Heaven returned home, her basket full of bread, her heart heavy — chaos had already arrived.
Three men stood in their yard. Towering, lean, ugly with cruelty. Their clothes were fine, far too fine for the alley dogs they were, and their boots left cracks in the clay where they stepped. One of them chewed a stick of something bitter, spitting it onto the floor.
Heaven froze as soon as she saw them.
"Baba," she whispered.
Her father stood in front of them, arms shaking at his sides. Irman was by the doorframe, still too weak to stand, clinging to the wall for balance. Their mother stood in the corner, her face pale and her lips bloodless.
One of the men , older, with a jagged scar running from his chin to his collarbone ,stepped forward and tossed a folded paper into the dirt.
"Debt," he said coldly. "It's long overdue."
Her father's voice broke. "I just need more time. I swear to you, I'll pay it back"
"You've said that a thousand times already," another man muttered, crossing his arms. "Ten chances. Ten losses. You gamble your food, your silver, even your wife's necklace. You think we're fools?"
"I'll pay you," her father said again. "Please. I'll pay."
The third man tall and hawk-eyed looked to Heaven, then smiled, slow and vile. "You won't. So we've decided to take something worth more than your promises."
Heaven's stomach dropped.
"What… what do you mean?"
"We'll be back in two days," the man said simply. "If your father cannot pay us the full debt, we'll take you instead. Young, healthy, virgin and pretty enough to fetch triple his debt in the outer kingdoms."
Outer….. kingdoms?!
Her mother gasped. Irman tried to stand, but staggered.
"No!" her father shouted. "Take me instead. I'll go. I'll work it off."
"We don't want you," the scarred one sneered. "You're old and useless. She's worth something."
Irman pushed himself forward, voice hoarse. "Take me!!! Take me instead!"
The men turned and laughed.
"You? You look like you've got one foot in the grave. You'd fetch a bowl of sand and that's being generous."
One of them spat in the dirt again.
"Two days," the tall one repeated, eyes still locked on Heaven. "After that… we collect."
And then, like vultures finished with a carcass, they turned and walked away.
The moment they disappeared around the corner, silence fell over the home like a suffocating blanket.
Heaven stood rooted to the ground.
Her mind refused to understand what had just happened. Not really.
Her father once again had offered them up like meat on a table.
First Irman.
Now her.
She turned slowly, the basket of bread still clutched in her hand.
"You did this," she said softly.
Her father flinched. "Heaven…"
"You gambled. You lost. And now… you offer me?"
Tears pricked her eyes, but her voice never cracked.
"You made Irman pay for your sins. Now you want me to pay for them, too. Who's next, Mama? Is that your plan?"
He took a step toward her, arms outstretched. "Please—"
She pulled back.
"Don't touch me."
His eyes glistened with tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
"No. You never do. But it always does."
Then, his hand moved.
It struck like a whip — a hard, stinging slap across her cheek.
The world tilted sideways for a moment.
Her mother gasped. Irman shouted, "NO!"
Heaven staggered, palm pressed to her burning skin. Slowly, she looked up at her father — at the broken man before her.
"Maybe," he said through clenched teeth, "maybe it's better if they take you. Maybe then you'll understand sacrifice."
She stared at him.
And for the first time in her life, Heaven felt no love left in her chest for the man who called himself her father.
Only silence.
Only cold.
She took steps back heading out, and then she turned and ran as he heard faint cries of her mother and irman
And this time… she didn't cry.