I remember the silence in the courtyard—just before the Queen spoke. You may not know my name, but I was one of the attendants who traveled with her from the land of Sheba, a kingdom known for wealth, incense, and devotion to the sun. We believed the sun was our giver, our guide. But that belief would be shaken forever the day we stood before Prophet Sulaiman — Solomon, peace be upon him.
I had heard whispers of his power: how even birds and jinn obeyed him. But when the hoopoe bird brought him word of our land—how we worshipped the sun, and how our Queen ruled with wisdom and grace—he sent a letter. It was short, yet full of strength. He asked our Queen not to rise against him in pride, but to come to him in submission—to Allah, the One God.
The Queen—may Allah bless her—was not hasty. She spoke to us, her advisors, about sending gifts to Sulaiman, to test whether he truly wanted war or something more. I carried one of those gifts myself: gold, rare spices, and gems that gleamed like stars. But when we arrived in Sulaiman’s court, our hearts sank.
He smiled, but not out of joy. “Do you give me wealth when Allah has given me more than He has given you?” he said. His words weren’t angry—they were true.
What happened next still makes me tremble.
Before the Queen even arrived, Prophet Sulaiman asked his court, “Who can bring me her throne before she reaches me?” One of the jinn said he could—but then a man, who had knowledge of the Scripture, brought it in the blink of an eye. I saw her magnificent throne placed before us without a sound—and I knew: this was not magic. This was something greater. This was divine.
When our Queen entered and saw her throne, she paused. “It is as though it is the same,” she whispered. I could hear the awe in her voice. Then, Sulaiman showed her something even more wondrous: a smooth palace floor that looked like water. She lifted her gown, thinking it was a pool—and gasped when she saw it was crystal-clear glass.
That was the moment her heart turned. I saw it in her eyes. She said, “My Lord, I have wronged myself. I submit with Sulaiman to Allah, Lord of the worlds.”
Tears filled my eyes. She, our noble Queen, had bowed only to the sun her entire life. But now, she bowed to the Lord of the heavens and the earth. And I—I followed her.
I no longer prayed to the sunrise. I prayed to the One who made it.
I was just a servant that day, but through Sulaiman’s wisdom and the Queen’s courage, Allah opened our eyes. And I have never looked back since.
Story Note: Inspired by Surah An-Naml (27:20–44) and classical tafsir sources such as Tafsir Ibn Kathir.
I remember the silence in the courtyard—just before the Queen spoke. You may not know my name, but I was one of the attendants who traveled with her from the land of Sheba, a kingdom known for wealth, incense, and devotion to the sun. We believed the sun was our giver, our guide. But that belief would be shaken forever the day we stood before Prophet Sulaiman — Solomon, peace be upon him.
I had heard whispers of his power: how even birds and jinn obeyed him. But when the hoopoe bird brought him word of our land—how we worshipped the sun, and how our Queen ruled with wisdom and grace—he sent a letter. It was short, yet full of strength. He asked our Queen not to rise against him in pride, but to come to him in submission—to Allah, the One God.
The Queen—may Allah bless her—was not hasty. She spoke to us, her advisors, about sending gifts to Sulaiman, to test whether he truly wanted war or something more. I carried one of those gifts myself: gold, rare spices, and gems that gleamed like stars. But when we arrived in Sulaiman’s court, our hearts sank.
He smiled, but not out of joy. “Do you give me wealth when Allah has given me more than He has given you?” he said. His words weren’t angry—they were true.
What happened next still makes me tremble.
Before the Queen even arrived, Prophet Sulaiman asked his court, “Who can bring me her throne before she reaches me?” One of the jinn said he could—but then a man, who had knowledge of the Scripture, brought it in the blink of an eye. I saw her magnificent throne placed before us without a sound—and I knew: this was not magic. This was something greater. This was divine.
When our Queen entered and saw her throne, she paused. “It is as though it is the same,” she whispered. I could hear the awe in her voice. Then, Sulaiman showed her something even more wondrous: a smooth palace floor that looked like water. She lifted her gown, thinking it was a pool—and gasped when she saw it was crystal-clear glass.
That was the moment her heart turned. I saw it in her eyes. She said, “My Lord, I have wronged myself. I submit with Sulaiman to Allah, Lord of the worlds.”
Tears filled my eyes. She, our noble Queen, had bowed only to the sun her entire life. But now, she bowed to the Lord of the heavens and the earth. And I—I followed her.
I no longer prayed to the sunrise. I prayed to the One who made it.
I was just a servant that day, but through Sulaiman’s wisdom and the Queen’s courage, Allah opened our eyes. And I have never looked back since.
Story Note: Inspired by Surah An-Naml (27:20–44) and classical tafsir sources such as Tafsir Ibn Kathir.
