is for them to fade away when completely forgotten.
Djinn feed off memory—they are inexplicably bound to it. As long as someone remembers them specifically as an individual (and most important, as a djinn) they live. But if everyone who knows them dies, they begin to starve and will perish within a fortnight—their energy dissipates into the atmosphere, creating one of the most spectacular sunsets you will ever have the privilege to see. This means that as long as he keeps himself out of trouble, a djinn can theoretically live forever. But while they are impossible to kill outright, they may be imprisoned and are often bound by those who wish to possess their power for their own.
At one time the djinn were quite numerous and scoured the earth in search of pleasure, adventure, or spiritual truth. It wasn’t uncommon for someone’s home to be “haunted” by a djinn, the basis of numerous superstitions. For example, not stepping on the threshold of a house originates from cases of people tripping over and awakening sleeping djinn that had passed out in their doorways.
The word djinn evolved from the word janna, meaning “to conceal” or “to hide,” as every djinn can turn invisible at will. Each also has at his disposal a bevy of other abilities. Some can change shape, often taking animal form or a human appearance, though some appear with cloven hooves or the feet of a camel when doing so. Oddly, any attempt to transform into the shape of a beautiful woman will leave the djinn with sideways eyes that run from forehead to cheek. Other djinn can fly; pass through walls; or are possessed of great, inhuman strength. However, the most powerful djinn are those that master the ability to grant wishes.
Wish-granting djinn are actually a very rare and truly powerful lot, able to completely alter the fortunes and fates of men. Even then, they cannot just alter reality of their own free will. A djinn may only summon a wish from the mind of someone else, usually a mortal, and only when certain conditions are met. First, a djinn must bind himself to that mortal, swearing to grant one or more wishes. Second, the mortal must speak that wish aloud. Finally, the djinn must consent and then grant the wish. However, at this point they can make any modifications they want, including tacking on any conditions (how, when, and where, etc.) that were not initially specified in the wish, within the confines of the original oath.
The chief limiting factor of these wishes is that djinn cannot change the past, only the present. Even the future is truly out of their grasp, save for the passing on of blessings or the laying down of curses, both of which seem to obey rules of their own. Otherwise, these djinn can make changes as small as the ownership or manufacture of items to as large as convincing the world of a truth that never before existed—such as the identity of a nation’s ruler. Powerful (and power-hungry) men have long sought djinn for this reason, and many djinn have gone into hiding as a result.
To find a djinn in this day and age is indeed a boon, though woe to the fellow a djinn finds first. One can never know what they truly intend.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE BOY COLBY MAKES HIS CHOICE
Fairies are real?!” Colby shrieked at the top of his lungs. “Cool!” His face lit up at the mere thought. Despite meeting an actual djinn and getting offered the chance to make a wish, Colby hadn’t bothered to ask himself one very important question: If djinn were real, what else was out there? But now that very thought weighed heavily on his mind.
“Real?” Yashar answered coyly. “Well, that depends entirely on how you look at it.”
“What else is real?”
“Many things are real. Trees are real, people are real . . .”
“No, what other cool things are real?”
“Cool is a relative term, Colby. But I assume you are asking about what you might call . . . supernatural?” Colby looked puzzled. He didn’t know that word. “Well, you know fairies are real and you know the djinn are real.”
“Genies.”
“Yes, genies. But angels are also real, wizards . . .”
“Ghosts?”
“That’s where things get a little murky. But yes. In a sense.”
“Dragons?”
“No.”
“Monsters?”
Yashar paused. He nodded slowly, lost in thought, as if remembering something terrible. His gaze was at once both fatherly and frightening. “Colby,” he said. “Monsters are real. Very real. But they’re not just creatures.