I looked to the ceiling, tracing the dark cedar beams that stretched across it.My thoughts spun, circling the same impossible maze, searching for a hidden meaning buried within the fragmented truths I’d been given.
No matter how I turned the pieces, the edges remained jagged.The picture forever incomplete.
What had she been thinking?What could’ve possibly driven her to bargain with a Jinn?Desperation surely.A yearning so deep, she’d been willing to risk everything for it.
The legend of the Jinn had once been whispered to me.A story older than me or my mother.Older than the world I have come to know.
Before mortal kingdoms rose from dust—before the first foundation stone was placed by human hands, the Jinn ruled all.They were not merely in the world, theywerethe world.
They were the wind that howled through the mountains—the fire that burned without end.The rivers that carved through the land.
Among them the Firewalkers stood above all.Untamed devourers of fate.Magic pulsed through them like a second heartbeat, shaping the elements as easily as breathing.They danced through infernos, wielding power that defied reason.The land was their dominion, and the skies their open halls.
And then, the mortals came.
Frail, fleeting creatures, stumbling into a world far older than they could comprehend.At first the Jinn paid them no mind, amused by their reverence.Their foolish belief that the land was something that could beowned.Some even pitied them, gifting them fire to warm their homes, whispering secrets of the stars and teaching them to bend the earth to their will.
But mortals were not like the Jinn.They were fragile, eager things and above all, they were ambitious.
Awe turned into fear.Gratitude twisted into resentment as whispers slithered through the hearts of men.
What if the Jinn were not saviours, but monsters?What if their gifts were not acts of kindness, but shackles meant to bind us?
And so, the fear festered.The hunger for power spread like illness, infecting even those who had once worshipped the spirits that walked among them.And in the shadows, an ancient order listened.
The Veilbinders.
Mortals with the ability to wield magic.For many years, they hid in the small corners of the world, their gift a secret.Their presence an afterthought.But with mortals rising, they saw an opportunity.
A way to end the rule of the Jinn forever.
The Veilbinders studied their enemy, searching for weaknesses.The Jinn could not die.At least, not as mortals did.Their essence was too deeply entwined with existence itself.
But there were other ways to break them.
In the dark hours of a dying moon, the Veilbinders forged a spell unlike any before.Not one of destruction, but of banishment.
The Jinn felt it before they saw it.
The winds recoiled.The rivers slowed as if holding their breath.The flames, once their own, flickered with unease.
The sky split open.A rift torn through reality.A chasm of ancient power dragging the Jinn from their world, severing them from the lands they had ruled for an eternity.
The Veil was born, But the Jinn did not go quietly.
Their rage tore through the earth like a storm.Fire rained from the Heavens.Rivers turned to boiling gold and mountains crumbled into the sea.The world burned beneath their wrath.
But the Veilbinders stood their ground, hundreds of them giving their lives to fuel the incantation.Their bodies collapsed to dust—their souls woven into the prison itself.
And with a final deafening roar, the Veil sealed shut.
For the first time since the beginning, there was silence.
Centuries passed and legend blurred into myth.Fear of the Jinn faded into whispers, nothing more than stories told by firelight.The once-vigilant watchmen of the Veil grew complacent, their fortresses crumbling and their oaths forgotten.
But the Veil was not perfect.
Though the Jinn were sealed away, mortals could still cross.Those who didneverreturned.
