Zahira knelt beside the pool, pressing her palm against the cool stone rim. The water glowed faintly in the moonlight, ancient and pure. She had sworn to protect this oasis from merchants who wanted to bottle it, from farmers who would drain it for distant fields, from anyone who saw only profit in sacred water. She needed a place to watch from. The dunes shifted too often, and threats could approach from any direction. After three days of digging and building, she hung a bell from a metal archway at the highest point near the oasis. The bell's dark surface caught no light, but it would ring if anyone approached the sacred water. She could hear it from anywhere within the valley. Zahira pulled out a small brass compass, its needle spinning slowly. She held it near the water's edge, watching the needle point directly at the pool. Every morning, she would measure the water level this way. If the needle changed its angle, she would know someone had taken water during the night. Behind a stand of palm trees, she built a small cottage from packed sand and carved wood. The angular walls blended with the dunes around it. Inside, she hung maps of the oasis and stored her supplies. This would be her home now. From here, she could watch the water, track the levels, and stop anyone who came to steal what belonged to the desert itself.