Cold. He was suddenly cold. A cloud of fog had wrapped itself around him, encompassing him, holding him against his will. His mind felt like a blur, empty, devoid of thought, memory, of anything other than the fog he found himself lost within. He wanted to yell, but he wasn't sure who he would be yelling for. He wanted to cry out, to demand explanations, yet he knew there was no reason to bother. He felt sure the fog held no answer.
Loneliness filled his heart. A pain of regret, remorse, a desire to turn back from the path, to walk--no, to run--away from all of this, drenched him like water crashing against the shore. He felt pain, not physical, but emotional pain so severe he could have dropped to his knees and begged the Gods for forgiveness, for mercy, to cleanse him of everything he had done, to take it all back, to wipe it from him and grant him a clean slate. Yet he had no clue what he wanted forgiveness for. What had he done? What had he wanted to do?
He began to walk, pushing against the fog with his hands, hoping beyond hope he could clear it out with a thrust of his palms. It moved no farther than he thought it would have. Step by step, he walked, gingerly allowing each foot to fall in front of the other. The farther he walked, the thicker the fog seemed to get, denying him the right to even tell if it was day or night, for neither the moon nor the sun could be seen above him, only more of the forsaken darkness which stood in front, behind, and all around him.
It felt as if the fog choked him, but it wasn't the darkness. Guilt burrowed from deep within him, making its way from the bottom of him to the top, smothering him as it went. It squeezed his heart, forcing him down to his knees. He put his hands to his face, feeling for the first time the tears that rolled down from his eyes. He was crying, yet he had no idea why. He had fallen to his knees, and he wanted to either beg for absolution or curse the Gods for allowing this fate, this curse, to befall him, to cry out against all who had allowed him to be at all. Deep from within him, he wanted nothing more than to be allowed to lay on the cold ground, to lay in the middle of the fog and darkness, to lay there in silence until death took him from this place, this life, this lie buried deep in his heart and soul.
She appeared before him. He looked up from his knees, and she was there, bathed in a light coming from somewhere within the fog. She was the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. Her long black hair framed her glorious face, and the wind--a wind he couldn't feel--pushed her hair into the air. A sheer dress, spun from what could only be silk, lay softly against her body, making both the dress and the parts of her body he could see beneath the silky covering shine in the light. He looked up, momentarily determined to find the source of the light, for it couldn't be coming from the sky--neither the sun nor the moon could have pierced the fog which surrounded them--and only more dense fog lay behind her. He glanced back to her face, the red lips, the deep brown eyes, the smooth porcelain like skin, all of which managed to divert his attention away from the source of the light and back to her. She was simply beautiful, glorious, divine; she existed as a celestial being walking amongst the undeserved. He dared not to catch her gaze, for he was the unworthy, the undeserving, a wretched amongst the gods. Instead, much to his surprise, she looked down at him, into his eyes, and spoke.
"Rise from your knees," she said, her voice as silky and soft as the dress which barely clung to her shoulders.
He stood, realizing as he did the tears still flowing from his eyes, tears which fell from his face onto the ground below him, hitting with such force against the fog covered ground that he could hear them as they landed.
"Do you remember me?" she asked.
He shook his head from side-to-side, knowing in his heart he could never have forgotten one such as her, yet somehow knowing this wasn't the first time he had cried in her presence.
"Look into my eyes," she requested, "all will be revealed."
The thought of not obeying never crossed his muddled mind. He faced her gaze, staring into the deepest, clearest, entirely pure eyes he knew he had ever seen before. Within her eyes, he could see it all, his life, his name, his family, friends, his hopes, all he had ever dared to wish for, all he had ever wanted, desired, longed for; his life stood there in her eyes, alone, waiting, knowing he would return and claim what was his. Though he knew it was his life, it felt like another's, for it seemed as if he stood outside of himself, looking upon his life through another's eyes, eyes which knew him even as he no longer knew himself.
"Do you remember now?" she asked, holding his gaze within the grasp of her stare.
"I remember me," he answered. His voice sounded strange, alien, as if someone else spoke through his mouth.
"Do you remember meeting me?" she asked, her red lips carefully and slowly forming each word.
He shook his head from side-to-side. A feeling of shame and guilt burrowed up from deep within him. He should remember; it was important to remember; everything counted on his ability to remember one simple thing, but he couldn't.
"Then all is just as you wished," she said.
He continued to stare into her eyes, those deep, brown eyes he could lose himself in, even as he felt a look of puzzlement beginning to grow across his own face. Before he could ask what she meant, she spoke.
"I am a djinn," she said. "And you found me here in this place. You freed me from my millennium long captivity, and for your effort, I have granted you three requests."
He watched in silence as the wind around her seemed to pick up speed, and she lifted herself from the ground, hovering above him, her light cutting through the fog which surrounded them both.
"After your first request was granted," she continued, "you returned to me, covered in tears and filled with sorrow, begging upon your knees that I remove it and make all the way it was before. And for your second request, you were to have no memory of the wish or what it did to you. I granted this." A small smile covered her full ruby lips. "Now you have returned to me." She paused. "I await your final request."
He needed to know what he wanted. Two minutes before, he couldn't even remember his own name, and now, he needed to know what he wanted most out of life. One wish, one thought, one want, penetrated his thoughts, and it was the one that had been there as long as he could remember. It was the only thing he could think of; it was the only desire left in the blank slate his mind had become. He spoke it aloud. "I want to know my true nature. I want to know what kind of man I truly am. I want all of the niceties of life stripped away, so I can become the man my actual nature demands me to be. I want to know who I really am."
He said it just as it laid in his thoughts, word for word, just as it had always laid in his thoughts. He looked to her face, to see her reaction, to see what she thought. Her smile had grown across her beautiful face, and a small chuckle escaped from her lips.
"What?" He asked, confusion filling his voice and doubt suddenly filling his soul.
"It is a little funny," she answered. "That is exactly what you asked for with your first request."
He reached out to her, to take it back, to stop her before it was too late. It was too late.
"I grant your final request." With that simple phrase, she was gone, and he remained, alone, with the darkness.
