Rashe's Betrayal

Life bustled and beauty bloomed in the forest. Harmony was bountiful, abundance plenty. Small critters chased under the feet of bigger beasts, and the latter munched on lush, green grass. The warm spring sun shone through the leaves, announcing yet another fine day.

Blandyew hummed in satisfaction. All was well.

In his 621 years of life, the Treant Blandyew saw much. True, his experiences couldn’t compare to the forest elders, but he did witness both nature’s wrath and her love. And this day certainly reminded him of love.

“Grow tall, little ones,” he said to tiny oak saplings. “Your mother has fallen so that you may have the space, light, and nutrients to grow. Honor her name, by digging your roots deep and spreading your branches high.”

The saplings shook their leaves, giggling like small children, warming Blandyew’s heart. A group of squirrels ran up and down his body, tickling him with their bushy tails and a flock of birds sang in his hair. 

“Ah,” he sighed, “you’re finding this day beautiful, yes? Rejoice, my friends. Today, Nature is-”

Blandyew stopped. What was that sound?

“Shh,” he said to the singing birds. “Be still,” he said to the squirrels. “Give me a moment’s silence, friends.”

Reluctantly, the little critters obeyed. Blandyew focused his senses, his guardian instincts coming alive. 

He heard it again. The sound of a tree falling.

Blandyew frowned. Old ones should not be falling on this day, there was no wind, no storm to bring them down. The elves didn’t work in the forest today either, so what could-

A scream pierced the calmness. 

Every living being around the Treant stopped and listened. The sun hid behind a white puffy cloud, as if not wanting to see what was coming. The forest grew darker in the cloud’s shadow, casting an ominous look on the trees.

“Friends,” Blandyew said to the critters on his body. “You might want to hide somewhere.”

The birds flew off in a flock and the squirrels jumped to the nearest trees, scrambling high up their trunks. Other animals that grazed and played around likewise ran off, heeding their guardian’s warning. 

Blandyew stood tall, piercing the shadows with his gaze, seeking threat. Was it the humans? The gnomes? There were reports of the latter attacking further up north…

A light flashed in the undergrowth. Blandyew fell into a defensive stance, narrowing his eyes. Despite a cloud blocking the sun, there appeared to be a reflection of light, passing through the woods. Many of them. Bright light reflecting off a polished white armor. 

Blandyew’s eyes widened in horror.

Alabaster armor. Shining in shadow. Blue light coming from their eyes, their hands, and their gaseous legs, floating a few inches above ground…

“Djinn!”

Blandyew turned to run. He was not ready to face such a threat, and he was all alone. But no, he couldn’t run. Others depended on him, animals, and plants in need of his protection.

No, he was a guardian. He would stand.

He dug his roots firmly into the ground, drinking up water and nutrients, enlarging his form. He would meet the blue demons.

A pack of about a dozen Djinn floated towards him, leaving a small trail of scorched grass behind them as they hovered. They had no legs, such as Treants or elves had, but instead a swirling vortex of gas on which they moved. Their skin shone blue underneath their perfectly white armor and their eyes glazed with lust.

They were on a hunt.

“You’re not welcome here!” Blandyew bellowed, his voice ten times deeper than before. “Return now, or suffer my wrath!”

The Djinn did not flinch. It was as if they saw right through him, sensing his fear.

“Look, Rashe,” one of the Djinn said, pointing. “That one is right up your alley.”

“He is afraid,” the other said.

“Rightfully so,” the first replied. He raised his arms and opened up his palms. Bluish flames rose from the tips of his fingers, merging into a swirling ball of fire.

Blandyew realized he made a mistake, digging himself in, but it was too late now. The Djinn launched his fire at Blandyew, sending him ablaze. The Treant never before felt such pain. He was burning alive, but the fire wasn’t eating away at his wooden flesh - it ate at his soul.

He cried in a piercing scream.

“He will do for a warm-up, Rashe,” the Djinn said, shaking his hands. “Let’s move on.”

***

Rashe watched as Dameesh and the others burned a whole thicket of Treants. Their blue flames burned out the soul, leaving the body intact behind - the perfect tool for collecting trophies. If only they wouldn’t scream so much…

Dameesh laughed, his eyes shining with pride as a Treant crumbed before him. The Treants were no match for them this day - Djinn magic was too strong. Normally, Rashe would be joining Dameesh and the others in the celebration, but today, something felt wrong to him. He ignited his fire but could not force himself to use it upon these creatures.

He didn’t kill a single Treant this day. Luckily, the others were preoccupied with their own burning to notice it.

“Rashe?”

Imni’s voice brought him back from his musings.

“Hm?”

“Are you well?” She looked concerned.

“I am well, sister,” he said. Imni didn’t use her fire today either, did she not? “It’s just… Something doesn’t feel right, you know? About all this.”

“About what?” she asked, frowning. “Not enough Treants to burn?”

“No. The burning itself. Imni, we’re killing innocents.”

She looked at him as if he spoke a foreign language. “I don’t think you’re well, brother. Come, let us burn one together. I’ve been saving my fire for the Treant elder.”

Behind her, the others have cleared the area of weaklings, their bodies burning with blue flame, consuming the remains of their broken souls. Only the elder remained in this thicket. The only worthy opponent.

Imni turned as the Treant elder growled in such anger that Rashe could taste it in the air. What was wrong with him? Usually, he would find such a moment thrilling, he would enjoy bringing down an enraged foe. Normally, he would be the first to strike, earning his father’s acknowledgment and praise from the rest of the Djinn back home.

Bringing a Treant elder corpse to the Shrine and burning it there would provide the Djinn with magic for months. They wouldn’t have to worry about running out any time soon. It was a noble deed, and a necessary one to ensure the Djinn survival.

So why did he feel guilty, all of a sudden, for doing it?

“Rashe!” Dameesh yelled. “Are you sleeping? Come! Help us fight!”

The Treant was huge - its trunk too thick for normal trees and its many arms flailing around in deadly swats. One of the Djinn got smacked, armor crunching and his blue inner light fading. Seeing a comrade fall made the other Djinn enraged, but to Rashe, it felt like justice was served.

What is wrong with you? That was your kin that fell! 

Now you know how they feel.

He watched as Imni charged the Treant with a battle cry, forming fire blades in her hands and swinging at the creature’s arms. Dameesh launched fireball after fireball, aiming for the Treant’s head. The others produced weapons similar to Imni’s and flanked it.

Rashe opened up his palms, summoning his fire. It came instantly, like a flood longing to be released. He closed his eyes, trying to dismiss the strange new thoughts, forcing the thrill of the hunt to come forth. 

This treant killed one of us. He is a worthy foe. Fight!

Rashe opened his eyes and charged. Blue fire built up in his palms and he raised them to release. Then he glanced at a pile of Treant corpses, the ones too small and weak to be of interest or value so they just left them lying there, and a sickness overcame him.

No. This is wrong.

The fire went out.

Our magic depends on burning the corpses of innocents.

Imni jumped at the Treant, but the creature saw her coming and smacked her hard. Her armor caved inward and she crashed in a pile of rocks. Dameesh roared in anger and released his full fire on the creature. The Treant screamed in pain, dropping its arms and falling to its knees.

Rashe could stand it no longer. He glanced at his sister, seeing her light was still shining, and ran to the Treant. He formed a flame sword in his hands and with one swift motion cut off the head of the Treant, killing its body before all of its soul burned away.

The creature collapsed to the ground, dead. Dameesh blinked at Rashe.

“Why did you do that?”

“There’s no need for them to suffer. We only need their bodies.”

“You sat there, for the entire battle, and then you jumped in for the killing blow? To give mercy?” Dameesh grabbed Rashe by the arm. “That thing almost killed your sister! It deserves to suffer!”

“And we killed its entire family!” Rashe shouted back, surprised at hearing himself say that. 

“Of course,” Dameesh said. “It’s what we do.” He gave him an incredulous look. “Are you well, Rashe?”

Rashe had enough. The guilt was too much and it didn’t make sense to him. Why feel it now, after a lifetime of slaughter? It was like Dameesh said, that was what the Djinn did - kill Treants, burn their corpses at the Shrine, ensure their magic continues. It was just the cycle of life.

Only in nature, the cycle of life never killed for pleasure or sport. Always for necessity, and only for necessity. 

“I must speak to Father,” Rahse said and pulled out from the grip. 

“You do that,” Dameesh said. “Speak to Konoz. You’re acting strange lately.” The Djinn then floated to Imni and helped her out of the rubble. Rashe felt some concern, seeing her wounded, but a part of him felt she deserved it. They all deserved it.

That part of him scared Rashe. But it also felt like it was speaking the truth. The killings had to stop. There had to be another way for the Djinn to get their magic and if not… well, perhaps it was time to learn to live without it.

***

“You want what?!” Konoz bellowed, his voice echoing in the hall like thunder. Good thing nobody was in there but his son, otherwise there could be serious repercussions if somebody were to hear of Rashe’s words.

“You heard me, Father,” the boy said. “I want us to stop this tradition. Let go of our magic. The costs of it are too great...”

Konoz didn’t know if he was truly hearing this or if it was some dream. Perhaps even a joke? Or is the boy losing it?

“Are you realizing what you’re saying, Rashe?” he said. “It’s like demanding birds to stop singing because you found their song annoying. Or demanding rain to stop falling, because you don’t want to get wet. It’s absurd!”

“No, Father. My demands are not absurd. It’s what we do, and have been doing for generations, that’s absurd. The Treants are not mindless brutes. They have families and society. They suffer, Father!”

The nerve of him! “Have you forgotten who we have been before we gained our magic? Have you forgotten how much we suffered? I ought to smack you the moment you barged in here, with those blasphemous words on your lips!”

“Father, the past is history. What happened was so long ago that we don’t even have clear records that agree on it anymore. Yes, it may have been horrible for our people in the past, but we live in a different era now. We are free and no one is oppressing us.” He paused. “This time, it is we who are doing the oppression, Father. We have become the very people we so loathed in the past.”

“Ridiculous,” Konoz shouted. He stood up, unable to keep seated in his throne. What has gotten into the boy? He was the best hunter they had, bringing glory and magic fuel to the Djinn people, and now he all of a sudden wanted to end it? “You want to destroy tradition? Let us forego our only source of power? Have you been cursed by a witch or are you just an idiot?”

“I am a murderer,” Rashe said, voice painful. “And so are you, Father, even if you don’t have to go out there and do it yourself. The tradition you speak of, it’s built on murder.”

“It’s built on preservation,” Konoz said. “It’s a force of nature; only the strong survive, son. Luckily, we are stronger than the Treants.”

“No, we aren’t,” Rashe said. “We rely on a power that does not belong to us naturally and we have to constantly maintain. The Treants have never once attacked us, not when we were enslaved by the humans, not now that we decimate their lands.”

“It is because they are weak.”

“No, it is because they are not murderers.” Rashe took a step forward. “They are fierce warriors when it comes to protecting those they love. Just like us. Perhaps even better, as they do not rely on demons to give them magic in return for corpses.”

“Silence!” Konoz charged at his son, but Rashe held his ground. “Do not patronize me! You know nothing of the burden of leadership! I maintain what our ancestors had to do so that our people could survive! So that you could be born. Is this how you show your gratitude? By judging and blaming me?”

They stared into each other’s eyes for an intense moment. Then, Rashe sighed. “No, I am not judging you. You only did what you thought best, what your father taught you, and the father before him. But it is time that the cycle breaks. I will not follow the same path, Father. I refuse to be a murderer any longer.”

Konoz’s face grew dark, though inside his heart was tearing. How could his son betray him like this?

“Think well over what you have just said, Rashe,” he spoke in a low voice. “For once you take that step, there is no going back. Are you willing to betray your people for your foolish ideals? Are you willing to give up your power and live like a peasant again, at the mercy of those stronger than you?”

Rashe hesitated. Konoz saw it in him, the boy was fond of his people as well as his powers. The Djinn were a force to be reckoned with, everyone knew that.

“It has to be done,” Rashe finally said, much to Konoz’s sorrow. “Someone has to start to show the way. If that has to be me and if I will be ostracized for it, then so be it. I accept the cost.”

“Please, son,” Konoz said, his anger suddenly leaving him. “Please, reconsider. If you leave, you will accomplish nothing. Stay. It is not so bad, this hunt that we do. Nature has plenty of Treants and our people do a lot of good with the magic we gain.”

Rashe took off his armor. He unclasped his bracelets, threw away his tiara - both the source that bound the Djinn power to him. As the gear fell off him, his bluish body began to morph and change. The gaseous legs coalesced into two feet, the blue skin turned pink and his eyes stopped glowing blue, becoming brown. 

Rashe was once again human.

“So be it,” Konoz said, his heart broken. “Know that this betrayal stings deeper than any blade of the demons or the humans that enslaved us. You being one of them again is a tragedy I shall carry with me to the grave.”

Rashe smiled. “All will be well, Father.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “I will find a way for all of us to be free of our past selves. I promise.”

He hugged Konoz and then walked out of the hall. As the door shut, Konoz collapsed to his throne and wept, the burden of a thousand-year-long tradition finally catching up with him.