To exist as a Jinn is to be a witness to the slow grinding of history. While humans measure their lives in mere decades, those born of smokeless fire, like the one known as Kasim, measure theirs by the shifting of empires and the cooling of the earth. Kasim is a descendant of the Nasibi lineage—those whose ancestors stood in the valley of Nakhlah and were forever changed. They had been drawn by a resonant sound that pierced the fabric of their primordial essence: the Prophet reciting the Koran. For this lineage, those words extinguished the chaotic arrogance of their fire-born souls, turning them into Jinn of the Book—believers navigating a world that either fears them or has forgotten they exist.
For Kasim, growing up was a lesson in fluidity. Jinn do not grow in the rigid, skeletal sense of the human experience; instead, they learn to manifest. In his youth, he was tutored by his elders in the art of shaping. To a young Jinn, a physical form is like a garment. Kasim learned to pull the molecules of the air around his essence, mimicking the density of a stray cat, a soaring hawk, or, eventually, the heavy, slow-moving form of a human.
Yet, for a believer, shapeshifting is a heavy responsibility. To walk among humans is to experience the world in low resolution. Human senses are dull; they cannot see the shimmering thermal currents of the desert or the dark, jagged auras of the rebellious Jinn who whisper in the corridors of power. Living among humans feels to Kasim like a constant act of translation. He sees the human potential for beauty, yet he is perpetually confronted by the species' fragility and its capacity for ruin.
The separation between the two worlds—the Unseen and the Witnessed—is a thin, vibrating veil. Kasim inhabits the same spaces as humanity, yet remains oceans apart. He might stand in a crowded market or a quiet alley, feeling the brush of a human shoulder, yet to the human, Kasim is only a sudden chill or a trick of the light.
This distance breeds a unique agony, especially when the world bleeds. Because he is born of fire, Kasim’s emotions are naturally volatile. He has seen the rise of ancient civilizations, yet nothing prepared his heart—even one made of flame—for the calculated cruelty of the modern age. When he looks toward the suffering in Gaza, the veil between worlds offers no protection. He sees the souls of the children rising, and the helplessness is a physical weight upon his spirit.
Kasim possesses the strength to move mountains of rubble with a thought, yet the laws of his existence and the divine decree bind his hands. To intervene directly in human affairs is to risk the balance of the heavens. He watches the tragedy in Palestine through the eyes of one who remembers the ancient prophets walking that same soil. His anger flares—a literal heat that threatens to dissolve his human disguise—as he witnesses the world turn a blind eye. It is the ultimate test of a believing Jinn: to hold his fire when every instinct screams to burn the injustice away.
Caught between the holy light of faith and the dark shadows who feast on human suffering, Kasim helps raise the young of his tribe to be hidden guardians. He teaches them to find solace in prayer and to wait for the day when the veils are finally lifted and justice is no longer a ghost in the wind.