The Light of Deen: Young Adult Fiction: Religious – Muslim, #4

By Zahra Malik

In The Light of Deen: A Journey of Spiritual Discovery, 15-year-old Maryam embarks on a heartfelt quest to deepen her Islamic faith. Through fasting, prayer, charity, and spiritual tests, she learns that guidance is not inherited—it's chosen. Set against a backdrop of community, self-discovery, and growing conviction, this inspiring young adult Muslim novel explores how the light of deen transforms doubt into clarity, and solitude into strength. Perfect for teens navigating identity, purpose, and the beauty of sincere belief.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arcane Horizons Publishing
• Release date: Jun 29, 2025
• ISBN: 9798231868216

Zahra Malik

Zahra Malik is a YA author who blends coming-of-age narratives with Islamic values. Her books celebrate faith, family, and the power of hope in a complex world.  

Book preview

Chapter 1 – Dawn of Awakening

The wind was a soft whisper against the fuchsia curtains of Maryam al-Amiri’s window, carrying a promise of change in its cool breath. Fifteen‐year‐old Maryam sat perched on the edge of her mattress, wrapped in a shawl of midnight blue. Behind her, the rest of her family slept, lulled by the hour before dawn. The air was electric with anticipation—tonight marked the beginning of Ramadan, the holiest month of her young life. And it began now, with the sight of a single, slender crescent moon.

Maryam rose quietly and approached the lattice window overlooking the courtyard. The marble tiles were slick with dew, and the pomegranate tree stood sentinel, its crimson blossoms closed against the chill. Above, the sky held its breath, a deep indigo canvas streaked with the faint glimmer of stars. Then, just above the minaret’s tip, she saw it: a pale sliver of silver light, curved and luminous against the dark.

Her heart skipped a beat. The crescent.

A tear of joy slid down her cheek as she pressed her forehead to the cool wood of the frame. "Bismillah," she whispered, invoking Allah’s name as her first breath of the new month. In that instant, something inside her stirred—a gentle flutter of possibility, like a seed cracking open beneath the earth.

Whosoever is guided—only for \[the benefit of] his own soul...

– Qur’an 27:92

The verse came unbidden to her mind, as if the moon had spoken directly to her heart. Tonight, she thought, I begin my own path of guidance.

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1. The Call of the Crescent

Maryam slipped from her window and tiptoed down the narrow hallway of her home. A muted glow seeped under the kitchen door, where her mother and grandmother gathered for a pre-dawn meal, the suhoor before fasting. Aromas of fragrant lahm bi ‘ajīn and steaming lentil soup drifted through the air.

Her grandmother, Umm Yasmin, stirred the soup pot with a wooden ladle, her weathered hands moving with practiced grace. Her mother, Salwa, arranged dates and yogurt on a copper tray. Both women looked up as Maryam entered. Her grandmother’s moss-green eyes sparkled.

You saw? she asked softly.

Maryam nodded, voice trembling. The crescent... It’s here.

Her mother set down a date. Eat, my daughter. You’ll need strength.

Maryam sat and accepted a date, the sweetness bursting on her tongue. She closed her eyes, savoring every nuance of flavor. Around her, the women spoke in hushed tones of mercy, forgiveness, and renewal. Maryam felt the rhythms of tradition pulsing in her veins—as old as the first Ramadan, as personal as her own beating heart.

At the table, her younger brother, Ali, snored lightly, sprawled on a cushion. He would sleep through the meal and wake only when the first light showed; he was too young to fast this year. Maryam smiled at his ruffled hair and kissed his forehead. May Allah make you patient, she prayed.

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2. The First Intention

Later, Maryam dragged her prayer mat to her bedroom doorway. The tiled courtyard beyond beckoned under the faint glow of a lantern. She knelt, setting her palms on the cool stone.

O Allah, grant me the strength to fast this Ramadan with sincerity, she prayed.

Guide me toward the light of deen and protect my heart from distraction.

She pressed her forehead to the mat, feeling the rough weave beneath her cheek. Ramadan was more than abstaining from food and drink; it was a journey of the soul. Each dawn would whisper the promise of guidance—if only she opened her heart fully.

When she rose, Maryam caught her reflection in the polished copper oven door: a young girl poised on the threshold of adulthood, eyes bright with hope. Tonight, she would craft her niyyah —her intention—for the month ahead. With a determined breath, she resolved to deepen her faith: to pray on time, to read Qur’an each evening, to speak kindly, to serve others. An opening heart, she knew, was the first step toward guidance.

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3. Suhoor’s Lessons

At the table once more, Maryam’s father, Ahmad, awoke and joined them. He was a quiet man of few words, but when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of wisdom.

Ramadan teaches us to hunger for Allah first, he said, passing Maryam a cup of cold water. Fasting cleanses the body, yes—but it also clears the mind and softens the heart. We learn compassion by feeling hunger ourselves.

Maryam nodded, sipping the water. She remembered the hungry children at the refugee center, the elderly who received warm meals during last year’s food drive. This year, she vowed, she would turn that compassion into action— sadaqah for those in need.

Her grandmother patted her hand. Your heart is ready, she said. Now let it guide your deeds.

Maryam smiled, feeling her resolve crystallize like ice in winter’s first dawn. She would not let this opening heart close again.

4. The Schoolyard’s Silence

The next morning, school felt different. In the cafeteria, trays were lighter; voices were quieter. Maryam sat with her friends, Aisha and Farah, their heads bowed over their missed breakfast. They sipped water together, casting furtive glances around the bustling room. The boys at the next table snickered when Ali walked by, his cheeks slightly hollow under his innocent grin.

Maryam swallowed her embarrassment. Ramadan was her path—Cultural norms sometimes clashed with religious conviction. She corrected her posture, recalling her prayer: for patience, for strength, for guidance that served her soul alone.

Farah leaned in. How are you feeling? she asked softly.

Maryam shrugged. Hungry, she admitted. But okay. Determined.

Aisha smiled. Determined is good. Remember, we’re doing this together.

Maryam nodded, grateful. The opening of her heart meant also opening her life to others—friends who shared this journey, even if only in solidarity.

5. The Whisper of Doubt

By lunchtime, the cafe line was empty, save for Maryam’s trio. A boy from her class, Youssef, approached, smirking.

Shouldn’t you be eating? he teased. Or are you too pious?

Maryam’s face burned. She drew in a breath, recalling her father’s words. I’m fasting, she said quietly. It’s a choice I’m proud of.

The smirk faded. He shrugged and walked off. Maryam exhaled, feeling both proud and vulnerable. Doubt whispered in her ear: *What if you falter? What if it’s too hard?*

But she pressed those thoughts away. The crescent’s light had touched her soul; she would not trade it for fleeting comfort.

6. The Imam’s Guidance

After school, Maryam slipped into the small masjid beside the library. Imam Khalid sat on the edge of the pulpit, reading from a well-worn copy of Tafsīr Ibn Kathīr. He looked up and beckoned her forward.

Maryam, yes? he asked gently.

She nodded, adjusting her scarf. Sir, I saw the crescent last night... I feel something new in my heart. But I’m afraid of failure.

He patted the cushion beside him. Let me tell you a story. He spoke of Prophet Ibrahim’s night vision, how he surrendered his dreams to Allah’s greater plan; of Maryam bint ‘Imran’s unwavering trust when the angel Gabriel appeared. Maryam listened, riveted, as the imam wove Qur’ānic tales into lessons of courage. He ended with the key verse:

Whosoever is guided—only for \[the benefit of] his own soul...

Your guidance is your gift, he explained. It serves only you—and in serving you, it ripples outward. Be patient. Seek knowledge. Pray often. The opening heart you hold now will bear light in every darkness.

Maryam bowed her head. His words settled into her bones, forging new resolve.

7. The First Prayer

That evening, Maryam prepared for the first Taraweeh prayer. The masjid’s courtyard overflowed with worshippers—rows of men on one side, women on the other. Maryam found a spot beside Aisha and Farah, their prayer mats unfolding like petals. The imam led the prayers with a melodious voice that rose and fell like waves.

As she prostrated, Maryam felt a profound connection—to the earth, to her Creator, and to every soul around her, each joined in synchronized devotion. She saw the crescent above the mosque’s dome through the lattice, and her heart swelled. This was her path now: feet planted firmly in prayer, heart open to guidance.

After prayer, the imam greeted her: Well prayed, Maryam.

She smiled, breathless. Thank you, sir.

His eyes glinted. Tomorrow, we will study the meanings of the first ten ayāt of Surah Al-Baqarah. Come prepared.

Maryam’s chest tightened with excitement. The opening heart