|| geniist

Iblīs, though considered the father of Jinn, was not accustomed to conversations with them. That problem lay, truthfully, in part due to the Ifrit’s reluctance to socialise. But of course, there was always the betrayal looming over the creature’s head. What sort of father – what sort of creature – would curse its species, its family, to an eternity of enslavement?

Not that Iblīs had ever had a choice, not that it wanted for everything to fall apart and crumble beneath it. Of course not. Iblīs may have become the devil, but it wasn’t truly a monster. Not to its family, as cast out as Iblīs had become, it still fought with a fierce loyalty to protect it.

It was due to its hesitance to converse and the heavy burden of knowing exactly what its reputation was, that Iblīs didn’t know how to react. Reactions came in all forms – from ignorance to hatred. Iblīs wasn’t scared of any retaliation, but it still hurt the creature to see fear.

     “Brother?”