Daughters of the Veil. Murideen Acolyte Only Nuns Models of the month

They say we came from the silk-tents of vanished cities, from gardens drowned in time, from prayers whispered into wine. We do not correct them. Let the men believe their dreams touched our skin. It is safer than the truth. We were chosen on the night the moon refused to show her face. Taken from shadow, bound by breath, veiled before our lips could form lies. Our names were burned into incense. Our pasts sealed in gold thread. We were not trained — we were offered. We move in threes, alway