Spirit Game

The moment was tense, as a sudden shift in the atmosphere gripped everyone in the camp. A low, tremulous hum reverberated through the air, making the ground beneath their feet feel unstable.

The once-lively chatter of the soldiers and Hobgoblins died away, replaced by an eerie silence, as if the very earth was holding its breath.

Santi was the first to react. Without a word, she bolted toward the source of the disturbance, her movements like lightening. Helliana was right behind her, her hand already on the hilt of her sword. Rain and the others, caught off guard, exchanged brief glances before rushing after them.

As they pushed through the camp, the strange sensation intensified, making Rain's skin prickle. He could feel it — a powerful presence, something ancient and vastly different from anything he had encountered before.

It was as if the very essence of the earth had come alive.

When they reached the heart of the camp, they found a group of Hobgoblins gathered in a tight circle, their weapons drawn and pointed inward. Their usual bravado was gone, replaced by pale faces and trembling hands. They were clearly unnerved, and it wasn't hard to see why.

"What's going on here?" Rain demanded, shoving his way through the crowd.

The Hobgoblins parted, revealing what they had cornered — a sight that made Rain's breath catch in his throat.

In the center of the circle floated a being unlike any he had ever seen. It was roughly the height of Helliana but much broader, its body a solid mass of muscle that seemed to ripple with raw power. Its skin was the color of desert sand, and it had small, sharp ears that pointed upward like those of a predator.

A thick, curling mustache adorned its face, which was otherwise bald, and its eyes were two white, opalescent orbs that glowed faintly in the dim light.

The creature hovered above the ground, its lower half dissolving into a swirling vortex of dust and earth. It didn't have legs, and its body seemed almost translucent, as if made of the very elements it commanded. There was an ancient, unyielding strength about it, something that defied explanation.

"What . . . what is that?" Rain asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He had faced many strange and terrifying beings in his journey, but this — this was something else entirely.

"That's a Djinn," Santi replied, her voice calm but tinged with a hint of reverence.

"A Djinn?" Rain repeated, turning to her in surprise. "Like a genie that grants wishes?"

Santi's gaze flicked to him, her expression unreadable. "No. Djinns are far more than that. They are spirits, protectors of the elements. Their purpose is to maintain balance in the world. They don't grant wishes, and they aren't bound by any master.

They are neither good nor evil — they simply are."

Rain's excitement deflated. "So . . . no wishes then?" He had hoped, even if briefly, that they might have found a shortcut to solving their problems. If only he could wish away Gorm, the looming war, all the bloodshed that was sure to follow .

. .

But Santi's words left no room for such fantasies.

"Lower your weapons," Santi commanded the Hobgoblins, her voice carrying the authority of one who understood the true danger they were in.

The Hobgoblins hesitated, their eyes flicking between Santi, Rain, and the Djinn. Finally, they looked to Rain, waiting for his approval. He nodded, and one by one, they lowered their weapons, though their fear was still on their faces.

The Djinn — Zarathar, as they would soon learn — floated in place, arms crossed over its broad chest, watching them with a gaze that felt as ancient as the mountains. It had not attacked, which meant it likely had no intention to, but its mere presence was enough to keep everyone on edge.

Helliana stepped forward, bowing her head slightly in a gesture of deep respect. "Great spirit of the land, we are honored by your presence. What is it that you seek from us?"

The Djinn's eyes glowed brighter for a moment, and when it spoke, its voice was like the grinding of stones, deep and resonant. "I am Zarathar, the Djinn of Earth. I have been awakened from my slumber by a force that should not exist — an entity that threatens the very balance of this land. I come before you to request your aid in stopping this malevolent being."

Rain felt a surge of hope. "Is he talking about Gorm?" he whispered to Santi.

She nodded, her expression grim. "Yes. He must be."

Rain's mind raced. If this Djinn was as powerful as it seemed, maybe — just maybe — they had a chance. "Then . . . can't he defeat Gorm himself?

If he's so strong, wouldn't it be easy for him?"

Santi sighed, her gaze hardening as she looked at him. "Djinns are forbidden from interfering directly in the affairs of mortals like us. If they do, the consequences could be catastrophic. The universe itself would punish them — they could lose their powers, or worse . . ."

Rain frowned, feeling frustration welling up inside him. "Then what's the point of having all that power if they can't use it?"

"Maintaining balance," Santi replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Without Djinns like Zarathar, there would be no earth, no land, nothing for us to stand on. Their power isn't meant for fighting our battles — it's meant to keep the world itself in harmony."

Rain finally began to understand. The Djinn wasn't here to solve their problems for them, but to ensure that the balance of the world was maintained, even if that meant giving them the tools to fight their own battles.

Zarathar's gaze settled on Rain, those glowing eyes piercing through him. "Human, do you accept my request?"

Rain was jolted out of his thoughts by Helliana's sharp nudge. He straightened up, trying to mask his nervousness. "Y-Yes, I accept!"

"Good," Zarathar rumbled, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mustache.

Rain blinked, confusion swirling in his mind. "Wait . . . what just happened?"