From Dust (Paul Atreides; Dune)

FROM DUST

~

The sands of Arrakis flow freely in the eyes of those who let it. Like the spilling of time itself. Spice flies into the air like magic. Until the night falls, and the spice harvesters ravage the lands as bright blue eyes watch in the distance, waiting to strike.

When night melds back into day, all but one remains. A girl. Eyes as blue as sapphires, but violet like topaz when the light of the sun hits them just right.

The Kala Wukar, they called her.

She who walks the desert.

She who is one with the sand.

She who is one with Arrakis.

The girl who he dreamed of long before she came to him in reality.

Dark hair like ink flowing in the sandy winds. Eyes glowing against the low light of the day. Her skin was barren for the sun to reach, but it did not burn. Golden-skinned hands dug deep into the sand, raising it high and letting it flow back into the earth.

The boy's breath left his body when her eyes met his. When she smiled, he felt as if he had fallen to his knees. Her mouth moved, speaking words he could not hear or read, though he so desperately wished to.

She who the boy, Paul Atreides, dreamed of. Aphra of Arrakis. The Desert Walker.

~

"He is your destiny, Desert Walker."

"As I am his."

~

Aphra of Arrakis walked the desert as freely as the sandworm's dwelled beneath the coarse, shimmering sands. Her mind and soul meant to be one with Arrakis.

While the scorching sun was shielded from the skin of her people by their stillsuits and the hoods of their cloaks, she remained in its gaze. Aphra was covered only by the silken cloth of a white kaftan, a thin veil hovering over her thin face. Her bare feet glided straight through the sand as her people swiftly moved behind her as if dancing.

When she stopped her movements, they too stopped. And when the sandworm, the great Shai-Hulud, drove dust above the earth like a wave, it moved by them as if they were invisible. Aphra was as one with them and, in turn, so were the ones who stood behind her or at her side.

Aphra had dreams. Every night she dreamt of a boy. A boy with skin pale as the moonlight and eyes dark. A boy who bore a crest on his finger. One of a grand bird that she recognized as a hawk. In every dream, she held sand covered hands out to him, willing for them to touch him, but they could not. But in recent nights, she could see that they were reaching closer and closer to one another. And she knew that he would be here soon.

Aphra knelt in the warm sand, feeling the grains soften beneath her as if it was a blanket. Her hands buried themselves deep until she could no longer see them, and then she pulled them out, the sand sifting through her fingertips. Every grain that fell through her hands held whispers that echoed deep in the reaches of her mind.

Footsteps.

"Someone has come," Aphra announced in her Chakobsan tongue.

Someone, but she knew in her heart that it was not him. It was not the boy she had waited so long for. Disappointment flooded through her as she stood tall once again. The two Fremen that had followed her from their sietch could only nod at her words.

"Is it the Lisan al-Gaib, Kala Wukar?" one asked her, his voice deep and low.

Aphra frowned as she turned on her heel, shaking her head, "No."

"They they shall be executed."

Aphra turned away, feet gliding through the sand once more, "Whatever you please, Jamis. He is but a trespasser on our sacred lands."

~

Aphra of Arrakis

Kala Wukar 'the desert walker'

'Protector of the sands, Guide to the Fremen, and Guide to the Lisan al Gaib'

"You who have come from afar, named our messiah. I am your past, your present, and your future. Just as you are mine. Answer your call."

~

NOTE:

Here I am again, with another book. Despite not being finished with all my other ones. But, when hyperfixation arises and creativity flows, I gotta do it. I hope you all enjoy! Please vote and comment. I love to hear your feedback.