The djinn growled.
It was the same book. The one he knew. The very book that had torn him from his original realm—from his universe, and dragged him here. Now it was in the hands of the magis people? Why?
Ayumu, sensing the shift in his mood, pressed further. Her voice was soft but steady.
"How did the people of Paititi get hold of that book hundreds of years ago, Great Djinn? Why were you the one that they called for?"
The djinn growled again—a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the gold beneath their feet.
Ayumu flinched back, her shoulders drawing up, her hands curling against her chest.
The djinn was silent for a long while. He drifted around Ayumu in slow, contemplative circles, his shadow-form coiling and uncoiling like smoke caught in a gentle current. He was searching for the right words.
"Be not afraid, Ayumu," he said at last, his voice softer now. "I will tell you what I can."
Ayumu relaxed—only slightly. Her golden eyes followed him as he moved.
The djinn continued. "How the Paititians were able to get the book, I do not know. But they used that book to bring something from another realm to help them." He paused, his white eyes growing distant. "They did not care if it was the devil itself."
A flash of memory crossed him.
"When I was summoned, they bound me to their wishes by using my name." His voice dropped lower. "As you know, if one gets hold of the names of beings like me, they can control me. They can ask me to grant wishes."
"And their wishes caused their end," Ayumu said quietly. "didn't they?"
The djinn's shadows swirled. "First, they wished for prosperity. Food. Heirs." He ticked each wish off on his shadowed fingers. "Then they wished for control. That was not enough. They wished for part of my powers." His voice grew darker. "They wished to be gods themselves. They claimed they worshipped me—but I had never asked to be worshipped. Of course, there is a price of each wish made."
"Price?" Ayumu asked.
The djinn answered, "For each wish, they must sacrifice something for me. Be it possessions, animal sacrifices, tooth, hair. The greater the wish, the greater the price."
"Children..." Ayumu said under her breath. Realising the sacrifices made if the people wished for power and wealth.
"Yes...these people sacrificed their own young for the sake of power and wealth. Their own population over a short time, declined rapidly."
The djinn came closer again to Ayumu and continued, "Soon, their greed knew no end. They killed each other. Destroyed each other. And I simply watched—as things progressed how I had anticipated it to be."
Ayumu looked down.
Her eyes traced the gold beneath her feet. Her heart ached for the unnecessary loss of life. For the greed that had consumed an entire civilization. For the loneliness of a being who now cant return to where it came from when it was called here without its consent.
The djinn moved closer. His face drew near to hers. Close enough that his white eyes filled her vision.
"Tell me, white magis," he said, his ancient voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think I am evil?"
Ayumu answered straight. Without delay.
"No."
The djinn recoiled.
His shadows rippled outward, startled. His white eyes widened, just for a moment. He pulled away from her as if her answer had been a physical blow.
Ayumu continued, her voice calm and certain. "You grant people wishes. You were made by the Supreme Being—just like me, just like everyone and everything else—each given our own purpose." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I believe that you, despite all your great power, are still bound to certain things. Such as your name."
The djinn stared at her.
Amazement flickered across his shadowed features—an expression that seemed almost foreign on a face so ancient, so powerful.
He came closer again. Slowly. Carefully. As if approaching something precious and fragile.
"My purpose," he said, "given by the Supreme Being, is to sway mankind. I am the shadow that you were all born with. I show you dark things. I tempt you toward sin." His white eyes bored into hers. "So, Ayumu… how can you say I am not evil?"
Ayumu did not look away.
"Because the people did those things on their own will." Her voice was soft but unwavering. "You did not do the evil nor asked them to."
The djinn faltered. His shadows stilled.
"What evil people choose to do themselves," Ayumu said, "does not make you evil, Great Djinn."
The djinn did not speak. He could not.
Ayumu stretched out her left hand—pale, slender, but adorned with multiple rings the djinn himself had placed upon her fingers. She beckoned him.
Take it.
The djinn hesitated. Then his large, shadowed hand reached out and enveloped hers.
Ayumu closed her eyes and she shared her memories with him.
Her mother. A kind face. A gentle voice. Then screaming. She was then stabbed, covered in blood. A mother was raped and killed before her own child's eyes.
Her childhood. Filled with running and hiding. People who wanted to kill her because of what she was. Some people wanted to use her because of what she could do.
During her travels, she witnessed slaves in chains, their eyes empty. Orphans left to starve in alleys. Men killing each other for a handful of coins. Women sold like cattle in brothels against their will.
Cruelty done for fun. Violence without reason. Evil wearing the faces of ordinary people.
The djinn saw it all.
Ayumu opened her eyes and said, "I have seen much evil in my short life, Great Djinn," she said softly. "And I know it was not you who caused it. It was the people's own choices. They chose evil. But they blame some dark being instead of themselves—because it gives them an excuse."
She let go of his large hand.
Her fingers slipped from his shadowed palm, and she stepped back. She bent down and picked up a large diamond from the gold-strewn floor—a gem the size of her fist.
She held it out to the djinn and smiled.
"I believe," she said, "that you and I, Great Djinn, are equally good and evil."
She channeled her power into the diamond.
Light burst from the gem—soft, gentle, but blinding. The crystals on the walls caught the light and threw it back. The mountains of gold blazed like miniature suns.
The djinn's white eyes were overwhelmed.
He raised a hand to shield his face.
When he lowered his hand, when his vision cleared, Ayumu was no longer standing before him.
She had disappeared.
The djinn thought, for a moment, that she had tried to escape. That she had cheated him. That the same white magis who had spoken so gently, so honestly, had deceived him after all.
Then—
A giggle.
Soft. Bright. Echoing.
The chamber was so vast, the mountains of gold so numerous, that her laughter bounced off every surface and returned from every direction. He could not tell where it had come from.
He turned, scanning the treasure-filled hall.
Then Ayumu's voice drifted from the left. "While we wait, Great Djinn…"
He looked left.
Her voice echoed from the right. "...why don't we play a game?"
He looked right.
His shadows swirled around him, alert now, searching. For the first time in his eternal existence, the djinn was being fooled.
But instead of anger—he smiled.
A wide, delighted smile that stretched across his shadowed face and crinkled the edges of his white eyes.
"And what game is that, Ayumu?"
Clink.
A sound came from behind him.
He turned.
It was not Ayumu. It was a gem—a small ruby—rolling across the gold-strewn floor. It clinked against a coin and stopped.
Ayumu must have thrown it.
Her voice came again—this time from all directions, surrounding him, wrapping around him like the warm wind he had summoned to dry her robes.
"Come find me."
Another giggle.
Then silence.
The djinn stood alone in the middle of his golden chamber, surrounded by mountains of treasure and the lingering echo of her laughter.
And he felt something.
In his chest. Where his heart would be, if he had one.
Excitement.
Something childlike. Something he had not felt in centuries. Something that made him want to run, to search, to play.
He laughed—a booming, joyful sound that shook the gold from the highest peaks.
"You cheeky white mage," he said, grinning. "You think you can fool a Great Djinn like me?"
He vanished.
And the game began.