The Djinn’s Wife in the Mountains: A Forbidden Encounter Beyond the Veil of Reality

It was during a period of deep emotional turmoil that I decided to escape into the mountains. Life in the city had become a blur — noise, pressure, expectations. I felt suffocated. I needed silence. I needed nature. And maybe, without realizing it then, I needed answers from a world far older than mine.

There were rumors about an ancient valley hidden deep in the hills, unreachable by any vehicle and avoided even by the locals. They said strange lights flickered there at night. Some called it cursed, others whispered about spirits. That only made me more curious.

I packed a small bag, told no one, and set out at dawn. The path grew steeper and the trees darker with each passing mile. I could feel the atmosphere changing. It wasn’t just the altitude — it was something else, something deeper. The birds became silent. The wind carried a chill, even though it was summer. And then I found it.

A narrow, winding trail veiled with creeping vines and pale-blue flowers led to a cave hidden behind a curtain of hanging moss. It was like walking through time. The entrance of the cave was marked with symbols — old, unfamiliar, and powerful. Still, I entered.

Inside, it wasn’t cold as I expected. It was warm, dimly lit by oil lanterns hanging from jagged rocks. The air was heavy with the scent of burning herbs. As I stepped further in, I realized this place wasn’t abandoned. It was inhabited — not by man, but by presence.

And then I saw her.

She sat in front of a fire that burned without wood. Her long, jet-black hair flowed like liquid ink, reaching the ground. Her robe was white but shimmered with silvery tones as if stitched with moonlight. Most unsettling of all — I could not see her face. A veil of mist, or shadow, concealed it entirely. And yet... I could feel her eyes on me.

She did not move. She simply said, “You have come.”

My throat tightened. “I didn’t know where I was going.”

“You never do. But your soul does.”

I was frozen in place, not from fear, but from awe. The firelight danced, reflecting symbols on the cave walls. I dared to sit.

“I am the wife of the Djinn who guards these hills,” she said calmly, her voice echoing as if from the mouth of the earth itself.

My heart thudded. I had heard legends about djinns — creatures of smokeless fire, living in hidden realms, both feared and revered. But this... this was no legend. She was real.

“Why me?” I asked.

“You’re breaking,” she replied. “And we do not let broken souls wander. Sometimes we heal them. Sometimes... we keep them.”

Her words were neither threat nor comfort. Just truth.

“I didn’t mean to trespass,” I whispered.

“But you were called,” she said. “Not all who wander are lost. Some are led.”

Then, from a pouch beside her, she pulled out a black stone, smooth and warm. “Keep this. It will protect you from what follows. For now... leave.”

Before I could ask more, the fire roared upward. The lanterns flickered violently. I blinked — and she was gone. The warmth vanished. The cave grew cold and still.

I stumbled out, stone clenched in my hand, and found the path back. But nothing looked the same. The valley seemed older now. More watchful.

Since that day, I’ve never been the same. I see shadows where none should be. I hear whispers in languages I don’t understand. And the stone she gave me? It still burns faintly at night.

Sometimes I dream of her — the faceless woman in white. And sometimes... I hear her voice just before sleep.

“Broken things still belong somewhere...”