Faheem stirred the campfire, then flicked the Zippo open while glowing motes drifted towards the stars.
Tiny Rasul appeared as the lighter’s flame.
“Go,” Faheem said. “You’re free… join them.”
The ifrit faced spiraling embers, and a fire sprite took his hand with a curtsy. Smiling, he joined their dance.
Text is Copyright © 2018 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.