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Description
This is the illustration that goes along with the bonus story for my patrons on Patreon.

Each month, I write a bonus tale with themes that they suggest and then vote upon, culminating in me trying to come up with something that includes each of the top contender. For this one, the themes were these: Goddess, Belly Dancer, Slave.

I brainstormed a bit for the approach for a goddess, one fitting a tale I had in mind and Gameboyred was a great help with some helpful suggestions. A deity associated with an oasis, Malih is a benevolent one, though how she came to be and what she does will remain a mystery... Until July 8th, that is, when I submit the story for everyone to enjoy and not just a week in advance on my Patreon.

If you're curious and what to take a look, go check it out: www.patreon.com/incredibleintr…

If you like what Gameboyred does and want a piece for yourself, here are their prices:

*UPDATE: now with the story!*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE DESERT OF OASIS

No one quite knows how divinities are born.

Some say they never are, they simply appear fully-formed and send their legends and myths to make mortal understand things indirectly. A few will tell that it is because of incomprehension and superstition that they grow, parasites of ignorance taking domains and narratives for themselves. Another theory is that they come with the rise and fall of civilizations, of societies as they adapt ever to new ones, taking on fresher and different identities as they go along. All of these are true, each one is false. Stories are their domains, thus everything is possible within what is said, facts not necessarily being important instead of symbols and power through belief, that is given.

Yet gods and goddesses and all those things in-between are real as they are shaped by people as much as they shape them. Capable of learning, of adaptation and growth, they are more like everyone, whether or not anyone realize it as within the palace of Ma'an, one would be born in the most bizarre of circumstances and this one would change all that was to be known and felt within the dunes and sand that formed the vast desert surrounding the city.

Kaolam was a slave, a being whose liberty had been taken from a young age to act as a servant within the palace. Serving the royal family, his role was to be silent, to be left unseen and to accomplish what task he had been given. One of the many assistants of the first prince, heir to the throne, he had been taught early to never disobey, to cherish the ground this being of superior blood walked on and to give him everything should it be necessary. Imprinted with these edicts for many moons, for as long as he could remember, Kaolam thought very highly of Prince Ziobab. He saw him as the highest of person, the most august personage of them all as his brainwashed adulation turned into delusional love. Knowing nothing better but this, his own devotion was sincere despite the harsh treatment, the low quality of his food or how lowly he was thought of. He dreamed of being considered an equal, to be his consort and to feel worthy of this unique honor. As such, he worked hard on his physique, as much as it was possible, while he also tried very hard to copy the mannerism and the talents of courtesans and dancers which the prince seemed to enjoy the company of. Learning how to dance from observation, from analysis, proved mighty difficult but it was not an impossible task for one with vigor in his heart. Love was the ultimate motivator, no matter how silly the premise for it was.

Serving him, Kaolam was on his knees, waiting for a command as he saw the prince receive gifts from envoys which he accepted with a smile, then asked for it to be thrown away when those guests departed. Golden cups, the finest of wine and many other such things had been donated, yet the prince cared not one iota, wishing instead to pass the time in more pleasant company as he asked for Kaolam to take it all away, to dispose of them all. It was a waste, but so delusional was Kaolam that he saw none of it, only that this prince thought himself worthier than that. Mistaking arrogance and apathy for confidence and self-worth, he took everything away as he prepared to have everything smelted down or poured down latrines, when suddenly one of the bottle of wine began to shake and, shockingly enough, to speak.

“No, don't throw me away. I have just begun to realize things and I've come to understand that I don't want to die!” said the voice with the energy of despair, with a flicker of hope for decency and compassion. Taken aback by this, Kaolam stopped in his tracks, thinking himself mad as he thought he heard things, a feminine voice and yet it spoke anew, trying again to reach for him and for mercy. “Please, I would dry out when taken out of this bottle. I am an oasis contained, I am water and life and to throw me away would be folly. Save me, stranger, and I will help you gain what you seek!”

Kaolam didn't quite know what to do or if he should speak. Were there anyone else they might confirm if he was losing his grip on reality or not, but he was too good at being unseen, his solitude giving him a choice right there. The prince told him to dispose of this, yet there was life and intelligence within and, more than the prospect of reward, he held life as sacred like the divinities of old told people to, even though many ignored that fact on a daily basis. “Fear not. I will make sure you will live,” Kaolam said, speaking in whispers as he took the bottle with him, leaving the sanitary installations for the slave quarters. He couldn't stay there long, for his duty was unending, but he would preserve this life, no matter how strange it was. “What is your name, tiny friend?”

“I am Malih and I thank you. You have my word that we are now fast friends and that I will help you from now on,” the voice said, a faint echo as if it spoke through water yet was perfectly audible and clear nevertheless. While Kaolam was certainly desirous to learn more about this being in a wine bottle, his responsibilities demanded that he carry himself back to the prince's side as he rushed back. However, the moment he got back, he was only met with the full attention of the prince, something that he wished dearly for, yet not like this as the object of his affection was furious and indignant.

“You took what I asked you to destroy? How dare you!” Ziobab said, enraged. Guards restrained Kaolam immediately as he spoke loudly, making a scene. “This gift is like you, my property and mine to do with as I wish. It was not for you to take, but to destroy!”

Kaolam's heart sank as he heard this as the punishment for such a treacherous act was to be cast aside, thrown in the desert. His sole mercy was that they gave him the bottle he had stolen, an act of cruel mercy as if to remind him why he had been thrown out to die. Chased for a few meters, Kaolam shouted about apologies, regret and sorrow, but all of it fell on deaf ears as he eventually walked away, obeying a most insane command to die out there. All he had were his rags and the bottle of wine as it remained silent for all this time, until the voice within manifested itself again.

“I am deeply sorry. You have suffered most in this...or all your life, really. We had hoped that those of royal blood would show the wisdom and kindness of the past, yet they've become complacent and lazy, privileged beyond belief it seems,” Malih said, sounding deeply apologetic and concerned about all of this. Her voice had somehow changed, though, gaining in maturity. Sounding like a child first, something that Kaolam had witnessed, she now sounded more mature, as if she had grown. “It seems like our fate are intertwined. Fear not, though, for you can be saved and everyone else will. Unleash me when we'll be 100 kilometers away from Ma'an and everything will be made better.”

Knowing only how to obey, Kaolam felt he had no alternative but to just do as she said as he walked below the hot sun. With nothing to drink save for what was inside the bottle, which was Malih thus it was out-of-the-question, he trekked along as dehydration began to settle in two days after. His head was hurting, his body ached and he still had a long way to go as eventually Malih tried to keep him alive through conversation, through small gestures of compassion and company as much as she could muster them. “Tell me...Who are you? What are your dreams?”

Two charged questions, for all that he felt he was and wanted had been crushed in one swift moment. Still, he answered, trying to be polite and considerate as his voice was raspy and sore. “I am Kaolam and I am...a slave. I was the property of...prince Ziobab...And I wanted to be his...his...his lover,” he admitted, the sadness and the harsh reality of his possible death making him realize a few things. How his devotion, his learning, all that he had done had been discarded so easily. It brought a whole new level of pain and anguish, yet one that he had to pass through just like he had to go through the desert somehow. “I trained how to dance to seduce him, how to clothe myself...I wanted him to love me...But there never was a me for him to consider after all.”

“You wanted to be a dancer?” Malih said, curious and genuinely interested by the sounds of it. “To move your body in communion with seduction, with symbolism, with the poetry of one's body?”

“That is right. I learned for countless months, years even, practicing in secret and yet I did not perform for him once,” Kaolam said, each revelation stinging him further and further like a swarm of wasps attacking his own ego and his pride with relentless darting. “But I am good, better than one could assume, yet no one ever saw me dance. To die without having done so once...what a sordid destiny.”

“When you unleash me, I will watch you. I will be your first spectator. On this, you have my solemn pledge,” Malih declared, giving a little sliver of hope for Kaolam as he continued to move through chilly nights and through the terrible heat of the day. He was in pain, both mentally and physically, yet his own fortitude and endurance, built up by his many years as a slave, served him well as his abilities to soldier on made it so that, through misery and anguish he nevertheless moved 100 kilometers away from Ma'an. Sitting down, dazed and nauseous, he heard Malih's voice, now seemingly far more potent, as if going through another phase of maturity and growth. This was not a young girl, but a woman speaking and even though her voice was faint due to his senses leaving him, he managed to do one final task and open her bottle before collapsing, letting all of this not be for nothing. Darkness came in, claiming his life as he felt that this good deed was perhaps a good way to have some worth after all of this suffering he went through.

Yet fate had different plans for him as he woke up while the starry sky greeted his sight. Laying on his back, he felt refreshed, as if reborn. His rags were replaced by vestments appropriate for a dancer, an open vest, bedlah pants, a golden-colored sash and many jewelry adorning him. His brittle skin, the ache in his muscles were all gone as something had rejuvenated him...Or rather someone as he took on a sitting position and saw a sprawling oasis, a little paradise having appeared and on the surface of the water that popped up was a tall woman made of gelatinous water, garbed in clothing that were both revealing and regal, full of class and sensuality at once. She had kind eyes, curves that were like waves crashing upon itself as one glance at her gave him a hunch as to who she was, yet hearing her speak gave him the answer nevertheless.

“You have succeeded. I was to be a boon for the people, yet I was to be thrown away and you have saved me. I was to gestate in this glass cocoon until the time was right, freed in a place whereas a new kingdom may be built,” Malih explained, her voice booming and yet intimate due to how there were no one else around to hear them. “Here I am now, ready to do my bidding as the goddess of survival, of oasis and bounty. And I am honor-bound to you, Kaolam. Despite my godly nature, I think of you as an equal and a friend. Now, to honor my promise to you.”

She clapped her hands, sounds of splashing resonating nearby as grass began to grow beneath his feet to preserve them from the sand. Flowers rose up to give a gorgeous scenery and then Kaolam knew what she wanted, what they spoke of...and he danced. He wished for a prince to see him first, yet instead it was a goddess who got to witness this first. Akin to a revelation, a communion, he spun his hips, shook his waist, rolled his shoulders and did so with all the energy he could muster. It was an exorcism, all his demons and pain had to get away as he smiled, he felt tears run down his cheeks and soon Malih himself joined him. This was a ceremony, yet for the two of them. They were equal and she mimicked him as if she was learning from him and soon they were like a duo. They were out-of-synch, there was no music save for the wind against the trees that had grown nearby, but it mattered now. For a moment, Kaolam could rejoice from a small thing and it felt sincere. No excuse, no lesser pain or evil, just enjoyment. Had he been deprived of this for so long that something as ultimately meaningless as this could give way to such happiness? But then he realized that this was not meaningless. This was a miracle, a rebirth just as technically Malih had been unleashed, had been born. A goddess...and she was his friend.

“Rest under my protection. Eat your fill, drink...And when all will be better for you, we shall make more of these and build something better,” Malih suggested, her plan vocalized yet not pressured upon him. It was a request, a polite offer, not a command and Kaolam had heard so many of the latter that the two former felt bizarre to him. He had to accustom himself to this, for he was technically a free man and he had been ever since he had been cast-out from the palace. “Take all the time you need.”

And thus he did. He ate fruits and vegetables, learning how to make them grow. He was taught in the way of magic, of how he could use his own talents for casting, his propensity for minutiae and details serving him well as his power grew but, more than that, so did his own independence. He recalled how to be a person again, how to be someone rather than a tool, some property. His own passions, his thoughts, they mattered as Malih listened to him and they danced together, getting better as each observed the other. The waves and undulations of Malih inspired Kaolam, while his own bodily limitations gave her ideas as soon they were both ready and they trekked across the desert. Instead of encampments, they simply created more oasis, more haven for those who might die of thirst or starvation. One became two, became five, a dozen and then countless others as the face of the desert itself changed drastically. Once, the city of Ma'an stood and developed because it had been built around an oasis itself. It was secluded and those who had built the first houses and communal centers, plowed the first fields did so with generosity and goodness in their heart...but times had changed.

And they would again as the far-away status of Ma'an was revoked quite quickly. Communities built themselves around the many oasis which popped up, new ones ever joining as soon people began to wonder just how it had happened. Legends and myths began to spread of a dancer and a goddess creating life and opportunity everywhere they went. Some tales told of how they were rebelling against a tyrant king, of how all of it was made out of spite. Some told of how it was a goddess who wanted revenge against Ma'an for taking her gifts for granted. A few theorized that the dancer and the goddess were the same. Soon, dancing became part of a ritual as many began to develop this art to celebrate the ever-changing face of the dunes and sand, now filled with trees, water and life. It was safer to travel through, making it so many came to establish themselves in new cities and towns. Many great stories of heroes and settlers, of brigands and despots, of monsters and fairies making their way in the aptly-named desert of oasis. Not all of them were true, in fact many were simply yarns told to entertain more than anything else.

The truth mattered not, in the end, especially to Kaolam and Malih. Neither wished to go for vengeance, to resort to violence or to usurp or reclaim anything. The past was the past and, as painful as it was, it couldn't really vanquish the miracles and joy that spread around thanks to them...nor could it dispel the tales of misery that also appeared due to them. Ma'an had changed greatly in time, more accessible to allies and enemies alike. Kaolam simply cast aside his misguided love for the conceited prince Ziobab, found himself a husband and a wife along the way, adopted many children and lived with his friend who just happened to be a goddess. It was a happy existence for him in the end, one that lasted quite long as he ventured through the desert alongside his numerous family, Malih included.

Gods and goddesses are real. Some are born of fables, or metaphors and narratives. Some are summoned or simply appear. The truth about it matters not as much as their influence and deeds in the end...and Malih's tale was but an example of their effect upon the world.

And her tale would be told and retold, re-imagined and put in different context each time, until it would become something altogether new again.

Description
This is the illustration that goes along with the bonus story for my patrons on Patreon.

Each month, I write a bonus tale with themes that they suggest and then vote upon, culminating in me trying to come up with something that includes each of the top contender. For this one, the themes were these: Goddess, Belly Dancer, Slave.

I brainstormed a bit for the approach for a goddess, one fitting a tale I had in mind and Gameboyred was a great help with some helpful suggestions. A deity associated with an oasis, Malih is a benevolent one, though how she came to be and what she does will remain a mystery... Until July 8th, that is, when I submit the story for everyone to enjoy and not just a week in advance on my Patreon.

If you're curious and what to take a look, go check it out: www.patreon.com/incredibleintr…

If you like what Gameboyred does and want a piece for yourself, here are their prices:

*UPDATE: now with the story!*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE DESERT OF OASIS

No one quite knows how divinities are born.

Some say they never are, they simply appear fully-formed and send their legends and myths to make mortal understand things indirectly. A few will tell that it is because of incomprehension and superstition that they grow, parasites of ignorance taking domains and narratives for themselves. Another theory is that they come with the rise and fall of civilizations, of societies as they adapt ever to new ones, taking on fresher and different identities as they go along. All of these are true, each one is false. Stories are their domains, thus everything is possible within what is said, facts not necessarily being important instead of symbols and power through belief, that is given.

Yet gods and goddesses and all those things in-between are real as they are shaped by people as much as they shape them. Capable of learning, of adaptation and growth, they are more like everyone, whether or not anyone realize it as within the palace of Ma'an, one would be born in the most bizarre of circumstances and this one would change all that was to be known and felt within the dunes and sand that formed the vast desert surrounding the city.

Kaolam was a slave, a being whose liberty had been taken from a young age to act as a servant within the palace. Serving the royal family, his role was to be silent, to be left unseen and to accomplish what task he had been given. One of the many assistants of the first prince, heir to the throne, he had been taught early to never disobey, to cherish the ground this being of superior blood walked on and to give him everything should it be necessary. Imprinted with these edicts for many moons, for as long as he could remember, Kaolam thought very highly of Prince Ziobab. He saw him as the highest of person, the most august personage of them all as his brainwashed adulation turned into delusional love. Knowing nothing better but this, his own devotion was sincere despite the harsh treatment, the low quality of his food or how lowly he was thought of. He dreamed of being considered an equal, to be his consort and to feel worthy of this unique honor. As such, he worked hard on his physique, as much as it was possible, while he also tried very hard to copy the mannerism and the talents of courtesans and dancers which the prince seemed to enjoy the company of. Learning how to dance from observation, from analysis, proved mighty difficult but it was not an impossible task for one with vigor in his heart. Love was the ultimate motivator, no matter how silly the premise for it was.

Serving him, Kaolam was on his knees, waiting for a command as he saw the prince receive gifts from envoys which he accepted with a smile, then asked for it to be thrown away when those guests departed. Golden cups, the finest of wine and many other such things had been donated, yet the prince cared not one iota, wishing instead to pass the time in more pleasant company as he asked for Kaolam to take it all away, to dispose of them all. It was a waste, but so delusional was Kaolam that he saw none of it, only that this prince thought himself worthier than that. Mistaking arrogance and apathy for confidence and self-worth, he took everything away as he prepared to have everything smelted down or poured down latrines, when suddenly one of the bottle of wine began to shake and, shockingly enough, to speak.

“No, don't throw me away. I have just begun to realize things and I've come to understand that I don't want to die!” said the voice with the energy of despair, with a flicker of hope for decency and compassion. Taken aback by this, Kaolam stopped in his tracks, thinking himself mad as he thought he heard things, a feminine voice and yet it spoke anew, trying again to reach for him and for mercy. “Please, I would dry out when taken out of this bottle. I am an oasis contained, I am water and life and to throw me away would be folly. Save me, stranger, and I will help you gain what you seek!”

Kaolam didn't quite know what to do or if he should speak. Were there anyone else they might confirm if he was losing his grip on reality or not, but he was too good at being unseen, his solitude giving him a choice right there. The prince told him to dispose of this, yet there was life and intelligence within and, more than the prospect of reward, he held life as sacred like the divinities of old told people to, even though many ignored that fact on a daily basis. “Fear not. I will make sure you will live,” Kaolam said, speaking in whispers as he took the bottle with him, leaving the sanitary installations for the slave quarters. He couldn't stay there long, for his duty was unending, but he would preserve this life, no matter how strange it was. “What is your name, tiny friend?”

“I am Malih and I thank you. You have my word that we are now fast friends and that I will help you from now on,” the voice said, a faint echo as if it spoke through water yet was perfectly audible and clear nevertheless. While Kaolam was certainly desirous to learn more about this being in a wine bottle, his responsibilities demanded that he carry himself back to the prince's side as he rushed back. However, the moment he got back, he was only met with the full attention of the prince, something that he wished dearly for, yet not like this as the object of his affection was furious and indignant.

“You took what I asked you to destroy? How dare you!” Ziobab said, enraged. Guards restrained Kaolam immediately as he spoke loudly, making a scene. “This gift is like you, my property and mine to do with as I wish. It was not for you to take, but to destroy!”

Kaolam's heart sank as he heard this as the punishment for such a treacherous act was to be cast aside, thrown in the desert. His sole mercy was that they gave him the bottle he had stolen, an act of cruel mercy as if to remind him why he had been thrown out to die. Chased for a few meters, Kaolam shouted about apologies, regret and sorrow, but all of it fell on deaf ears as he eventually walked away, obeying a most insane command to die out there. All he had were his rags and the bottle of wine as it remained silent for all this time, until the voice within manifested itself again.

“I am deeply sorry. You have suffered most in this...or all your life, really. We had hoped that those of royal blood would show the wisdom and kindness of the past, yet they've become complacent and lazy, privileged beyond belief it seems,” Malih said, sounding deeply apologetic and concerned about all of this. Her voice had somehow changed, though, gaining in maturity. Sounding like a child first, something that Kaolam had witnessed, she now sounded more mature, as if she had grown. “It seems like our fate are intertwined. Fear not, though, for you can be saved and everyone else will. Unleash me when we'll be 100 kilometers away from Ma'an and everything will be made better.”

Knowing only how to obey, Kaolam felt he had no alternative but to just do as she said as he walked below the hot sun. With nothing to drink save for what was inside the bottle, which was Malih thus it was out-of-the-question, he trekked along as dehydration began to settle in two days after. His head was hurting, his body ached and he still had a long way to go as eventually Malih tried to keep him alive through conversation, through small gestures of compassion and company as much as she could muster them. “Tell me...Who are you? What are your dreams?”

Two charged questions, for all that he felt he was and wanted had been crushed in one swift moment. Still, he answered, trying to be polite and considerate as his voice was raspy and sore. “I am Kaolam and I am...a slave. I was the property of...prince Ziobab...And I wanted to be his...his...his lover,” he admitted, the sadness and the harsh reality of his possible death making him realize a few things. How his devotion, his learning, all that he had done had been discarded so easily. It brought a whole new level of pain and anguish, yet one that he had to pass through just like he had to go through the desert somehow. “I trained how to dance to seduce him, how to clothe myself...I wanted him to love me...But there never was a me for him to consider after all.”

“You wanted to be a dancer?” Malih said, curious and genuinely interested by the sounds of it. “To move your body in communion with seduction, with symbolism, with the poetry of one's body?”

“That is right. I learned for countless months, years even, practicing in secret and yet I did not perform for him once,” Kaolam said, each revelation stinging him further and further like a swarm of wasps attacking his own ego and his pride with relentless darting. “But I am good, better than one could assume, yet no one ever saw me dance. To die without having done so once...what a sordid destiny.”

“When you unleash me, I will watch you. I will be your first spectator. On this, you have my solemn pledge,” Malih declared, giving a little sliver of hope for Kaolam as he continued to move through chilly nights and through the terrible heat of the day. He was in pain, both mentally and physically, yet his own fortitude and endurance, built up by his many years as a slave, served him well as his abilities to soldier on made it so that, through misery and anguish he nevertheless moved 100 kilometers away from Ma'an. Sitting down, dazed and nauseous, he heard Malih's voice, now seemingly far more potent, as if going through another phase of maturity and growth. This was not a young girl, but a woman speaking and even though her voice was faint due to his senses leaving him, he managed to do one final task and open her bottle before collapsing, letting all of this not be for nothing. Darkness came in, claiming his life as he felt that this good deed was perhaps a good way to have some worth after all of this suffering he went through.

Yet fate had different plans for him as he woke up while the starry sky greeted his sight. Laying on his back, he felt refreshed, as if reborn. His rags were replaced by vestments appropriate for a dancer, an open vest, bedlah pants, a golden-colored sash and many jewelry adorning him. His brittle skin, the ache in his muscles were all gone as something had rejuvenated him...Or rather someone as he took on a sitting position and saw a sprawling oasis, a little paradise having appeared and on the surface of the water that popped up was a tall woman made of gelatinous water, garbed in clothing that were both revealing and regal, full of class and sensuality at once. She had kind eyes, curves that were like waves crashing upon itself as one glance at her gave him a hunch as to who she was, yet hearing her speak gave him the answer nevertheless.

“You have succeeded. I was to be a boon for the people, yet I was to be thrown away and you have saved me. I was to gestate in this glass cocoon until the time was right, freed in a place whereas a new kingdom may be built,” Malih explained, her voice booming and yet intimate due to how there were no one else around to hear them. “Here I am now, ready to do my bidding as the goddess of survival, of oasis and bounty. And I am honor-bound to you, Kaolam. Despite my godly nature, I think of you as an equal and a friend. Now, to honor my promise to you.”

She clapped her hands, sounds of splashing resonating nearby as grass began to grow beneath his feet to preserve them from the sand. Flowers rose up to give a gorgeous scenery and then Kaolam knew what she wanted, what they spoke of...and he danced. He wished for a prince to see him first, yet instead it was a goddess who got to witness this first. Akin to a revelation, a communion, he spun his hips, shook his waist, rolled his shoulders and did so with all the energy he could muster. It was an exorcism, all his demons and pain had to get away as he smiled, he felt tears run down his cheeks and soon Malih himself joined him. This was a ceremony, yet for the two of them. They were equal and she mimicked him as if she was learning from him and soon they were like a duo. They were out-of-synch, there was no music save for the wind against the trees that had grown nearby, but it mattered now. For a moment, Kaolam could rejoice from a small thing and it felt sincere. No excuse, no lesser pain or evil, just enjoyment. Had he been deprived of this for so long that something as ultimately meaningless as this could give way to such happiness? But then he realized that this was not meaningless. This was a miracle, a rebirth just as technically Malih had been unleashed, had been born. A goddess...and she was his friend.

“Rest under my protection. Eat your fill, drink...And when all will be better for you, we shall make more of these and build something better,” Malih suggested, her plan vocalized yet not pressured upon him. It was a request, a polite offer, not a command and Kaolam had heard so many of the latter that the two former felt bizarre to him. He had to accustom himself to this, for he was technically a free man and he had been ever since he had been cast-out from the palace. “Take all the time you need.”

And thus he did. He ate fruits and vegetables, learning how to make them grow. He was taught in the way of magic, of how he could use his own talents for casting, his propensity for minutiae and details serving him well as his power grew but, more than that, so did his own independence. He recalled how to be a person again, how to be someone rather than a tool, some property. His own passions, his thoughts, they mattered as Malih listened to him and they danced together, getting better as each observed the other. The waves and undulations of Malih inspired Kaolam, while his own bodily limitations gave her ideas as soon they were both ready and they trekked across the desert. Instead of encampments, they simply created more oasis, more haven for those who might die of thirst or starvation. One became two, became five, a dozen and then countless others as the face of the desert itself changed drastically. Once, the city of Ma'an stood and developed because it had been built around an oasis itself. It was secluded and those who had built the first houses and communal centers, plowed the first fields did so with generosity and goodness in their heart...but times had changed.

And they would again as the far-away status of Ma'an was revoked quite quickly. Communities built themselves around the many oasis which popped up, new ones ever joining as soon people began to wonder just how it had happened. Legends and myths began to spread of a dancer and a goddess creating life and opportunity everywhere they went. Some tales told of how they were rebelling against a tyrant king, of how all of it was made out of spite. Some told of how it was a goddess who wanted revenge against Ma'an for taking her gifts for granted. A few theorized that the dancer and the goddess were the same. Soon, dancing became part of a ritual as many began to develop this art to celebrate the ever-changing face of the dunes and sand, now filled with trees, water and life. It was safer to travel through, making it so many came to establish themselves in new cities and towns. Many great stories of heroes and settlers, of brigands and despots, of monsters and fairies making their way in the aptly-named desert of oasis. Not all of them were true, in fact many were simply yarns told to entertain more than anything else.

The truth mattered not, in the end, especially to Kaolam and Malih. Neither wished to go for vengeance, to resort to violence or to usurp or reclaim anything. The past was the past and, as painful as it was, it couldn't really vanquish the miracles and joy that spread around thanks to them...nor could it dispel the tales of misery that also appeared due to them. Ma'an had changed greatly in time, more accessible to allies and enemies alike. Kaolam simply cast aside his misguided love for the conceited prince Ziobab, found himself a husband and a wife along the way, adopted many children and lived with his friend who just happened to be a goddess. It was a happy existence for him in the end, one that lasted quite long as he ventured through the desert alongside his numerous family, Malih included.

Gods and goddesses are real. Some are born of fables, or metaphors and narratives. Some are summoned or simply appear. The truth about it matters not as much as their influence and deeds in the end...and Malih's tale was but an example of their effect upon the world.

And her tale would be told and retold, re-imagined and put in different context each time, until it would become something altogether new again.