The desert sun was scorching against the sands, but it seemed to go unnoticed by a lone figure. They sat along some ruins that barely poked out of the dunes, not even bothering to sit in the minimal amount of shade provided. Their skin was red with even redder markings here and there, including a pair of bands across their wrists. Poking out from under a headwrap was sandy blonde hair that tumbled down their back in a braid. Their outfit was pretty plain and a bit worn. Sitting beside them was a small, simple backpack. They seemed to just be relaxing, basking in the desert heat.
 âHmm, this certainly is strange.. I never had a reading like this before. Youâre certain you donât know what this means, Imana?â Standing elegantly atop a boat-like structure that swam across the dunes, the woman spoke without taking her eyes off a small device in her hand. Her skin was pale â she was covered up decent enough, but it was still unusual to see in the desert. Wrapped about her was a pale pink material of fine quality, seemingly untouched by the harsh sun. Peeking out from beneath the soft material where it wrapped about her head was long, silken white hair. The rest of her outfit seemed a bit flashy for someone wandering the desert alone â or seemingly so â decorated with gold and gems.
âI am certain, my lady.â A voice sighed the words from nowhere. It was feminine, sounding a bit exhausted or run down. âI have only worked this device as long as you have, so I know not what this means.â The white-haired woman hummed as she listened, her red-painted lips frowning. Suddenly she stopped mid-step, releasing a soft, âOh!â The device in her hand â something akin to a compass, steered by a small magic orb â flashed a different color, the orb now glowing a soft red. The womanâs lips parted in a chuckle. âMy my, it looks like I was right to follow the signal. It doesnât look like itâs a bum after all. Perhaps this means I will catch one of those pure djinn I have heard about? Hmm~!â
The woman stopped her vehicle, hopped off and approached the ruins, stepping around crumbled walls and pieces of stone. Smiling with haunting confidence, she popped open the top of the compass. The light flew out and the woman followed. âWhere are you, my friend? I know someone is here~â
 Roshan had been perfectly content sitting as a pile of sand and waiting for them to leave. But as soon as they heard the womanâs voice, they felt a chill from their very core. It sounded familiar, but it couldnât be. It just couldnât.
âŚjust to be safe, the djinn began sliding away, the sand moving across the rest. But suddenly, that familiar voice was close. Too close. âFound you!â Immediately panic set in and Roshan began to slide as fast as they could, the pile of sand darting from one ruin to another. The small magic orb bolted towards them at a frightening speed, and once close enough popped open, expanding into what appeared to be a sort of a net. As soon as the netâs material touched Roshan in sand form, it somehow forced them to take human shape again with a pained scream. They rolled with the force of the net and slammed into a wall, groaning as they scrambled to sit up.
No matter how much Roshan tried turning back to sand, the net wouldnât allow it. They couldnât shift at all. Their breath fell heavily, panicked enough to try and pry their way out of the net to no avail. Finally, they raised their widened eyes up to the approaching woman, who was staring down with almost as much shock as the djinn.
âRoshanâŚâ The woman breathed out as she stood over the trapped djinn. Roshan could only press themself against the wall and stare up at the woman, barely murmuring out, âOra..belaâŚ.â
The white-haired woman burst out into laughter. As she did, another figure appeared from a coil of flame that sprouted from the jewel Orabela wore on her forehead. The figure was significantly larger, over twice the size of a normal person, and the only clothing she wore besides a bit of jewelry was a sheer shawl that didnât even try to hide her plump breasts. She had yellow skin, bright orange markings, three white eyes, and flames for hair and below her waist. Just like Roshan, she had bands on her wrists and forearm, but one pair stuck out significantly more. Instead of the orange of the rest of the markings and bands, the pair closest to her hands was a searing white.
âNot Khuraviâs spawn..?â The fire djinn said incredulously, gawking down at the trapped blonde. Roshan only shrunk back more and more as Orabelaâs laughter continued, and Imanaâs expression grew more and more twisted and hateful by the second. âThis is all your faultâŚâ The djinn hissed out, but before she could speak any further, Orabela finally calmed her laughter and addressed the half-djinn once more. âGoodness, itâs been a while, hasnât it? I must say, you donât look near as flattering as our last meeting.â Receiving only silence from the trapped djinn, the poor thingâs face burning a deep purplish-red as they attempted to curl up more and cover their bare mid drift, the womanâs smile was wiped from her face.
âWell, that would explain why the signal was different. At least we know it still tracks half-djinn now, hm? Well, go ahead and load em up, Imana.â The woman turned on her heel and started back towards her magic-run vehicle. âAt least we donât have to worry about finding this oneâs vessel. If I remember right, they carry it with em.â
Imana scowled down at the trapped djinn. âYou know, my lady, dirty half-djinn cannot enter their vessel, even if you use your magic to try and force them in like the others. Weâll have to carry it as is.â
âThatâs fine. You can carry Roshan over here.â
Imana bit her tongue, stopping herself from saying anything more, and reached down to the red-skinned djinn, who had been silent, trembling, and helpless.
 The boat was tucked inside a ruined building, though it wasnât buried by sand. It only had a bit of sand lapping at the edges of the walls, the rest of the abandoned town sitting atop cracked, dry earth. It was a border town that sat at the edge of the desert and some dead land. The nearest town was at least a weekâs walk away. But it was a perfect hideout for Orabela.
She had taken residence in the largest and best held together building, thought it was clearly fixed up unlike the rest of the town. This was where she did her business.
Nobles, kings, and anyone of importance with money have at least heard of the woman selling wish-granting djinn. Few actually had the money to pay, or even believed that a person could indeed capture djinn and put a price on them. Despite most peoplesâ doubts, it was true. She had even already sold a few djinn for outrageous prices. But they granted wishes, and that was worth all the money in the world. Sure, when she caught her first djinn and made a contract with her, she could have simply wished for riches. But she had other plans. Besides, she enjoyed the hunt too much, and she knew she could easily become the richest person in the world selling djinn.
The doors of the building remained unlocked, open to any who dared to enter. Inside, the walls and floors were lavishly decorated in gold and ivory, priceless works of art hanging on the walls and beautiful furniture adorning each room. It looked terribly out of place in the abandoned town. In addition, several guards lined the walls, a few chatting idly with each other. Their job, besides obviously guarding, was to guide the rare customer to where they needed to go: up the grand staircase and into the single open door.
This was where the product was held. Usually, Orabela would force the djinn back in their vessel, then display them on pedestals within the room. Of course, each pedestal had a small barrier around the vessel, so none could remove one except Orabela. Now, however, the pedestals were empty besides the newest addition of Roshanâs bare gem, something akin to a ruby. It was set upon a pedestal that sat before a couch. Perched atop it was Roshan, now out of the net but bound at the wrists by a white metal. It, like the net, forced them to remain in their human form. Another chain bound their ankle to the couchâs leg.
âWell, Roshan, welcome to your new temporary home.â Orabela cooed to the djinn, who only looked away from the woman that stood before them. She snapped out a hand and roughly grabbed hold of Roshanâs chin, forcing them to look at her. âYou may not be bound to me, but I am your master right now. At least until I can sell you. So you better listen to me, understood?â The woman only received a hiss in response. She struck Roshan across the face, sending them into the cushions of the couch. âWrong answer. You will behave.â After a pause, the woman sat besides Roshan, who remained on the couch. Their shoulders shook slightly as they hid their face in the cushions. âNow, now, Roshan, donât cry.â She cooed again, reaching over to run her fingers across the djinnâs hair. The djinn remained curled into the couch but growled out a wobbly, âDonât touch me.â Orabela completely ignored their words, running her hand down over their shoulder and to their exposed middle.
âIâll need to get you some better clothes. Nobody would want to buy you in this dirty outfit. Maybe Iâll find something like what your last master dressed you inâŚâ Her hand had been wandering underneath the djinnâs shawl as she spoke, Roshan tensing more and more. âHmm, it can be just like the old days. You always liked it when I visited. Oh? Whatâs with that look?â She paused, commenting when Roshan peeked up from the couch and gave the woman a teary glare.
âI liked it when you visited be-because I thought you were kind. That maybe you felt bad for me. But clearly⌠clearly I was wrong.â
âDonât talk like that Roshan. Youâre acting as if I donât care at all.â The woman spoke softly, smiling as she undid the djinnâs shawl and slipped it off. âCome on, I know what will cheer you up~â Again her hand began to wander the djinn, but they were having no more of it. âDONâT TOUCH ME!â The djinn growled out again, this time swinging their arms up to hit the woman with the shackles. Imana, who had suddenly appeared again, grabbed Roshanâs arms before Orabela was hit.
The white haired woman only smirked as Roshan struggled to get free. âFine. If youâre going to be like that, so be it. But you will learn to behave.â She stood, Imana only releasing Roshan when the woman was almost out of the room. âIâm going to get you some better clothes from my wardrobe. Imana, watch them for me.â
As she disappeared out the door, the fire djinn frowned and lowered herself to the ground. Her legs finally took form as they touched the ground, and so did a green cloth serving as a skirt. She watched the half-djinn curl back up and scoot into the corner of the couch, unimpressed. âYou deserve this, I hope you know.â
Silence, besides the soft breaths from Roshanâs quiet tears.
âShe only started hunting us because of you.â Imana added, still staring down the other.
âDo you know how many of my friends I have had to help that woman capture and sell?â
âWe had to change the damn rules because she was told what some of them were. She found loopholes around them.â
âIâm sorry⌠I didnât knowâŚâ
The larger djinn kept her glare on Roshan for a few moments longer before snorting and turning her back to them. She sauntered over to the fireplace opposite the couch, resuming her fire form as she stepped in. Moments later, the fireplace was lit with Imana, though it looked like a normal fire. Roshan remained curled up on the couch, bare-chested and trying to suppress their tears.
