Fireside Tales

...and a fine story that is. That reminds me of a tale from the great Southern sands. Have you never heard the story of the Sye'hib'yhus? They are spirit daemons that haunt the deserts of my home. A man will be asleep in his yurt when he is awoken by the sobs of a woman. 'Pon looking outside, he sees a young maid collapsed in the sand near the flap. She stirs and sees the man, crying out in relief. A story spills from her honey'd lips. ‘Tis a story of how she is a princess and was hawking with her father or brother when her horse was spooked by a giant scorpion. The horse ran in a terrified blur. Across the sands her horse sped until she was thrown.
Hearing this, the man notices that her chador are ripped and askew showing peeks of her soft skin beneath. She tells of wandering until the smells or sound of the camp drew her. If only the man would invite her in she says, he would be rewarded, she says. Perhaps the reward from her father would be a steel weapon, a fast horse, or some other reward that is closer at hand. If the man is fool enough to let her in to his tent, to invite her in, he is almost certainly doomed. The spirit cannot enter one's dwelling unless invited and will have no powers over you if you stay within until the rise of the sun.
If she is brought in she weaves a mighty spell so that the man's wits are addled and his limbs heavy. He will do her bidding but there is little enough that she wants. Just to be kissed. Once the kiss starts though it is the beginning of the ending for the man. The next day, his kinsmen will find the man's body frozen as if embracing a lover but dried as though he'd been buried in the hot sands for a month for the she daemon stole his soul from him and left him a husk.