Elara and the Djinn of the Veiled Wind

Elara first met Simster and Desins on a night when the air itself seemed undecided.

The wind shifted directions without reason, the moon flickered behind clouds that moved too fast, and the candles on her windowsill burned with blue-edged flames. Elara knew better than to ignore signs like these. She had learned, long ago, that the world whispered before it spoke aloud.

She stepped outside, barefoot on cold stone.

That was when the wind spoke.

“Still curious, little star-walker?” said a voice like laughter caught inside a storm.

From the shadows emerged Simster, his form half-smoke, half-light, eyes glowing with playful danger. Beside him appeared Desins, quieter, darker, shaped like a silhouette carved from night itself. His presence bent the silence rather than breaking it.

“You called without knowing you called,” Desins said calmly.

“I didn’t summon anyone,” Elara replied, though her voice did not tremble. “But I’m not surprised you came.”

Simster grinned. “Humans always say that.”

Without warning, the ground folded like paper.

Elara gasped as the world turned inside out, and suddenly they were standing in a vast city of glass towers and floating bridges. People walked past them, eyes empty, repeating the same motions again and again—buying, selling, arguing, apologizing—without ever finishing a sentence.

“What is this place?” Elara asked.

Desins answered, “A city trapped in its own desires. We did not create it. We merely… removed the memory of why they began.”

Simster leaned close. “Djinn are excellent editors.”

Elara watched a woman argue with her reflection in a shop window, looping the same words endlessly. “Why bring me here?”

“To see if you understand,” Desins said. “Magic is not always fire and miracles. Sometimes it is forgetting.”

Simster snapped his fingers.

The sky cracked open—not violently, but like a thought breaking apart. Time stuttered. Elara felt memories that weren’t hers brushing against her mind.

“Choose,” Simster said. “Restore one truth to this city. Only one.”

Elara closed her eyes.

She didn’t choose love.
She didn’t choose peace.
She chose meaning.

The city shuddered. People stopped mid-motion. Confusion rippled outward—then grief, laughter, silence, and finally awareness.

Desins nodded slowly. “You chose wisely. Meaning carries everything else.”

The djinn did not ask permission before pulling Elara into the next place.

They stood at the edge of an endless sea, its surface smooth as glass. Above it, the sky reflected perfectly—so perfectly that Elara could not tell where the world ended and the reflection began.

“This is the Mirror Sea,” Desins said. “It shows you what you deny.”

Simster skipped a stone across the surface. Instead of ripples, images rose: versions of Elara she had never lived.

A queen.
A wanderer.
A hermit.
A destroyer.

Elara’s breath caught.

“You fear choice,” Simster said softly. “Most humans do.”

“And you?” she asked. “What do djinn fear?”

Desins answered without hesitation. “Stagnation.”

Simster smiled, but it was sharp. “We exist to disrupt certainty. When the universe grows lazy, we remind it to move.”

The sea began to crack.

From its depths rose creatures made of reflection and regret. They reached for Elara, whispering paths she could have taken.

She did not run.

Instead, she stepped forward and touched the water.

“I am not all my possibilities,” she said firmly. “I am the one who chooses.”

The sea calmed. The creatures dissolved like mist.

For the first time, Simster looked impressed.

They returned to Elara’s world just before dawn.

The sky was pale, undecided again.

“You’ve passed our games,” Simster said. “Now comes the dangerous part.”

Desins extended a hand. In it appeared a scroll—blank.

“This is not a contract,” he said. “It is an invitation.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “To what?”

“To walk between worlds,” Simster replied. “To see what humans aren’t meant to see. To influence without ruling. To understand magic without owning it.”

“And the cost?” Elara asked.

Desins met her gaze. “You will never see reality the same way again.”

Elara laughed quietly. “I already don’t.”

The scroll burned away without being signed.

Simster bowed theatrically. “Then welcome to the inconvenience of knowing.”

The wind shifted one last time.

When Elara blinked, the djinn were gone—but the world felt wider, thinner, more alive. Shadows seemed to listen. Doors felt less solid. Possibility hummed beneath everything.

She smiled.

Some adventures were not meant to end.
They were meant to change the rules.

And somewhere between worlds, Simster laughed, and Desins watched silently—already preparing the next situation where reality would need a gentle, dangerous push.