The wind whispers to her. In its hot, harsh voice, it whispers soft, cool lies. Oh, how it lies. Above the hiss of sand, the murmur of dunes, the wind lies about Shade, and Green, and, most of all, Water.
She can smell it sometimes, the fresh clean scent of water, of trees, sometimes even flowers. Once, there was the sharp tang of citrus. But about her now is only desert, an endless landscape of smooth, shifting sand, of dunes that grow and move and change, but always stay the same. A landscape where her magics of permanence and youth can find no footing, except to keep her alive, day after endless day.

“Susurrus”

About the story: Even a powerful sorceress makes mistakes.
I liked this story so much I turned it into a novel.