When the fantasies of Arabian nights interweave with the mirages of desert days, all sense of time is lost to the sands. Memories are manipulated and forgotten. Dreams materialize against the haze of the setting sun, and all things tangible sift through your fingers, leaving nothing in your grasp but only a few grains of desert sand.
Once upon a time...
Sekhmet, goddess of war and fertility, coupled with Death and became heavy with child. She kept her future son a secret from all, including Death himself, fearing the worst of what the gods could do with such a babe.
The Fates, however, saw the result of this union, and foretold what would become of her son. Just as she feared, he would become the most powerful god in existence.
They told her she must rid herself of the unborn child, so she pleaded and threatened with the might and mane of a mother lion to keep her son. They permitted her to keep the child as long as she did not raise him as a god, but as a nameless servant in her temple. For if she gave him a name or told him of his true identity, he would be forced to endure the hellish prison known as Tartarus. To this she agreed, and when he was born, her loyal priests pried him from her grasp as she had requested.
She watched with hatred and envy as her loyal servants and worshipers swaddled him and breastfed him. The son of Death and Sekhmet was brought up amongst the other worshipers. He was schooled along with the sons and daughters of the priests and priestesses, and was educated to become a priest himself.
Each day, he grew more and more beautiful, and she told him that he was her favorite kitten, but it must be a secret. She could not tell him the truth in fear of what the Fates would do.
In secret, she worshiped him and treated him to the delicacies, oils, and scented smokes meant only for the gods. Upon entering manhood, he confessed to her a love that ran deeper than his priestly devotion - true love.
Sekhmet’s heart broke, and she banished him from the temple, and from the city itself, hoping that would keep her son safe.
Alone, the young nameless priest wandered the desert.
He was dying of thirst and exhaustion, but he trudged on across the sand. The desert was made only of rolling dunes for as far as the eye could see. The sky was an omnipresent blue, caging down around him. There was no end to this valley of the shadow of death. He walked without comfort, without water. Exiled from the protection of the goddess, he was in the presence of unknown enemies. He feared no evil, only because he did not know that it was there.
After a time, he lifted his eyes up from his blistered feet and saw in the squelching haze a mirage.
There was green grass, shady palms, and a lagoon of still, crystalline water.
And there was a woman dancing inside the mirage. She moved with the ripples of the heatwaves and twisted like a cobra being charmed.
Upon seeing him, the dancing woman immediately hid from view behind a palm tree.
“How have you come to be here?” she asked.
The young priest stumbled into the mirage. “I walked. I’ve been wandering the desert-”
He approached the trunk of the palm and looked around it to see her, but she disappeared around to the other side, “-for what has felt like-”
Again, he moved around the trunk to see her, and she moved away, “-forever.”
He reached around the palm and grabbed her arm. Spinning her like a ballerina, she fell into him.
He asked, impatient, “Can I please have a drink of water from your lagoon?”
“It is not my water to give. It is my master’s.” She coyly walked away.
He smiled, relieved. “Then I shall drink at my own peril.”
Crouching on the bank of the lagoon, he splashed his face with the cool, clear water. “Is he fierce, your master?” he asked.
“It is not he you should fear, but what he’ll have me do to you... should he find you.”
He barked out a laugh, and she glared.
“What makes you so mighty?” He took a drink of the water cupped in his hands.
With her chin held erect, she said, “I’m a Jinni.”
He choked on the water.
“Do you still not believe me mighty?”
“N-no!” He stammered and hopped to his feet. “I have heard many tales of Jinni. Enough to know I should leave this place and should have never entered.”
He hastened across the grass to exit the mirage, knowing he’d be safer in the heat of the desert rather than trapped in a mirage with a deceptive Jinni.
“A traveler in the desert could use the help of someone like me,” she cooed.
He slowed to a stop, grinding his teeth at the truth she told.
“The desert is cruel. Crueler to you than my master is to me.” Her voice was dripping with seduction.
“I…” He looked back at her, determined to turn down the proposal. “I have spent my life in the desert cities-”
“The cities are nothing compared to these dunes. You won’t survive.” She blinked her dark eyes as she sauntered up to him, beguiling him with her charm.
He pressed his lips together, then pursed them in tantalizing thought.
“Save me from my bore of a master, and I will make you a king.” She glided her hand up his chest.
He accidentally laughed aloud, and said, “I have no desire to be a king.”
She glared for a brief second. She hesitated. Stumbling upon her next move, her voice lost some of its silk. “Then I will make you… comfortable, and I shall tell you tales of my life and the mysteries of my land. I will be your companion.”
The thought of food and water was a tempting offer, but from a Jinni it was a dangerous one. However, the romantic tales of a Jinni and magickal far away lands were enticing. Danger can be seductive, and he wanted to get away from what he had left behind.
“Okay,” he conceded.
The Jinni shrugged in disbelief. She had started to worry this was going to be a harder sell.
He put his hand upon his hip. “So… How do I save you from your master without him turning you on me?”
“I will resist him if it comes to that-” She pointed her tiny chin proudly in the air. “...but you must be quick and light of foot. He sleeps just over there.” She pointed to an elaborate tent, which had not been there before. Its fabric flapped in the non-existent desert breeze.
“He keeps my prison on his finger as a ring. Take it from him, and I will be yours,” she breathed.
“Only for a time,” he looked down at her, “and then you shall be free.”
With the heroics of youth, he slipped into the tent.
The Jinni let out a tense breath and rolled her eyes, then she sat down in the shade of a palm and happily waited for his defeat.
He walked into the tent to find not a sleeping man, but a sleeping beast. It had horns and was covered in scars, tattoos, and piercings. The beast looked more like the legendary description of Jinn than the beautiful girl outside.
The floor of the tent was covered with gold, and armor, and bones. Thus, the as nameless priest crept closer, the very first step he took sent a bronze helmet clattering into a gladiator shield. The priest froze, but the metallic clanking awoke the beast.
With a groan and a flat voice, the beast said, “Not this shit again.” The towering creature stood.
The young priest gulped as the monster groaned. It cracked iss neck and knuckles as it rose from the floor to tower over him. The beast mumbled and complained under his breath, and the young priest turned an ear to listen. He asked the grumbling creature before him, “What’s that now?”
The monster gave him an exhausted look. “That damn Jinni!” He pointed to the tent flaps, beyond which, she waited. “Dude, I wished to be an unbeatable champion… but I meant, like, in my video games, like Prince of Persia. But, she keeps sending warriors after me for fun, man! I was a good looking guy once. It’s her fault I got all these scars and why I look like this! That’s why we’re hiding in the desert! To keep me away from dudes like you! Eager to prove themselves in battle. Let’s just get this over with.” He picked up a double-edged axe.
The young priest put up his hands and backed away. “I’m not eager to prove myself in a battle I can’t win. If a Jinni made you unbeatable then it is no mere title. It is truth, and I am no fool.”
“To be determined…” The creature shrugged.
“Fine. But, instead of battling to death, perhaps you and I could come to terms instead?”
The beast raised an eyebrow. “You wish to make a deal?” He dropped his battle-axe.
“Let us not use that word,” the priest suggested. It was dangerous to make wishes when a Jinni was nearby and could be listening. He continued, “...but yes. I want to make a deal. I am no warrior, nor do I have a deathwi-... death want… death desire? I have no desire to die!”
The beast smiled and stood up, straight and tall. He spoke in a suddenly ceremonial voice. “Then come, my dude! Let us sit-eth, and smoke-eth, and make-merry on common ground!”
