Jinn

Witness. A church. On the wall, written in ash is the word “MONKEY”. Below that, is written, “Job 30:29-31”. Witness. A sleep clinic. Patients unable to attain deep REM cycles, complaining of “distant singing” and sad or hateful voices. The patients never meet, yet all were heard muttering, “We are ashes, where once we were fire.” Witness. A subway car. A sleeping man jumps to his feat screaming. He shouts, “The jinn are coming! The jinn are here!” Later, he will find hand-shaped burn marks all over his body.

We have told you this story before, sweetling, of the Jinn and the First Age. We witnessed their birth from the smokeless flame, created by the Host. There were others too, some born of the trembling earth, the chanting waters, or shining winds — but their fates branched in other directions. They all swore oaths to Gaia and protected her. All was tranquil, until your species came into the world.

The jinn were hurt, those of fire most of all, and angered — that Gaia should be so fascinated by these talking monkeys. They took further insult when stewardship of the Earth passed into the hands of humankind. Know too that hate is love — squeezed, bottled, and fermented. The jinn, along with many others of the demon-kind, grew furious. How could the miracle of this blue planet, and all of its promise, be inherited by these short-lived, ill-equipped foundlings? “We are fire,” the jinn proclaimed. “Why should we bow to the clumsy clay?”

Terrible wars broke out between those who championed mankind and those who would eradicate the naked apes. The jinn chose the latter side. They chose poorly. In the end, humans and their supporters won out. For their broken promise to protect all living beings, the jinn were banished to the darkest abyss – a discarded place called The Howling.

Exiled from light and love, the aeons of affliction fell. The jinn blamed the humans for their fate. An extraordinary world deserved extraordinary beings, and the humans were not. For time out of mind, their thoughts moved in this claustrophobic coil. In that hellish womb, their anger festered into whole new vistas of spite. And so the jinn wished and wished, and all they wished for was revenge.

Wishes, like prayers and radio waves, travel forever in a vacuum. Why do the most vicious wishes so often receive reply? Another riddle. Another time. Taste and see! Their contempt attracted the attention of the Dreaming Ones. The Eaters of Suns reached out with writhing thoughts and promised to return the jinn to the world if they agreed to fight the humans. While some jinn rejected this invitation — their hatred from the humans still lesser than their hatred for the Dreamers — others, drunk on rage, accepted.

Freed from their fetters, the jinn returned to a very different world – their beloved Gaia fouled, bleeding, and choking on global strife.

The jinn never wished for this. They looked upon the eldritch forces that freed them, and once again, they broke a promise. No more would they fight wars other than their own – against the humans and the Dreaming Ones that threaten life itself.

Siding with none and turned against their purpose, the jinn are among the most malevolent of Gaia’s children. Their fire vomits sooty miasmas, for these are the days when the children of the smokeless flame will burn less pure. Blinded by hatred that has outlived stars, some find destruction their only end. Some appreciate that the greater evil of the Filth must be purged first and ignore you verbal apes. A few see something redemptive in humankind and grudgingly cooperate with you. But, poor child walking in the dark, you will not know which you encounter until you are too close to the fire. That is why we give you sweet honey. Those voices are distant no more. The jinn have broken through. The jinn are coming. The jinn are here!