They say where one goes, the other follows.
In the sprawling expanse of the cosmos, Paul Atreides and Seraphina Sylvane are bound together by an unbreakable tether. Despite the light years and planetary divides throughout the Known Universe, their...
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-Year 10191
It was a momentous day, the kind that etches itself into the fabric of one's existence such as mine. I remembered I cradled my eight year old daughter tightly against the cover of my thin shoal from the unforgiving desert sky. Above me, an immense ship pierced through the atmosphere, its sheer magnitude eclipsing any earthly structure. Though the brilliance of the sun reflecting off the vessel's gray hull threatened to sear my eyes, yet I, Nue dared not look away.
As the ship descended, the air around us stirred, tugging at my own worn garments, whispering promises of change and salvation. I felt my heart raced, and with each breath, I felt the weight of anticipation bear down upon me, causing my very being to tremble.
"The Laisan al-Gaib is here," I whispered to myself, my voice a fervent prayer hoping it would reach. "He will bring us to paradise, the salvation of every soul, the one true Messiah and his Seraphim."
In the presence of Shai'hul Sha'ir, the hope incarnate, the light of a thousand suns, I felt my faith swell within my chest. The Seraph and her power, whispered of in ancient prophecies, held the promise of reshaping their world, of birthing life from the barren sands.
"Mother," my daughter's voice quivered, echoing my own uncertainty and awe as the ship's massive doors began to part, revealing figures of celestial majesty within.
In that moment, my resolve crumbled, my eyes finally releasing the tears I had held back in reverence. Each droplet, a precious offering, fell to the parched earth below, a testament to of my unwavering faith in these godlike beings who had graced our lands with their presence.
But I was not alone in her reverence; all around me, the faithful wept tears of gratitude and awe, their cries blending with the windswept sands as they bore witness to the arrival of their divine saviors. We have nothing we can offer, for the Harkonnens oppressed us for years, but tears, a precious commodity that we do not dare to waste easily flowed and we hoped that it was enough.
-"Journal of The Oppressed: The Manifestation of Fremen Faith"
By: Nue
~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~
Seraphina Sylvane's fingers danced anxiously over the intricate design of her engagement ring, a tangible reminder of her future with Paul. With each subtle movement, she felt the ship shudder as it docked, the sound resonating through the metal beneath her feet.
The silver headpiece adorning her crown gleamed in the dim light of the ship's interior, its majestic arcs reminiscent of the branching antlers of a stag. Against her silver-blonde hair, braided into elaborate patterns, it stood as a symbol of her regal lineage and impending status. Her dress, a cascade of opulent silks and fabrics in a harmonious blend of silver and black, trailed behind her with an effortless grace, every fold and seam meticulously crafted to accentuate her stature.
