Dreams were ethereal things that spoke of your innermost feelings. They could be fears that haunted you in the dark, or desires buried so deep within that you yourself did not know what they are. Some dreamt of power, others of pleasure, and then there were those who were micro-ambitious, constantly seeking smaller and newer dreams instead of following a larger, time-consuming one.

As far as dreams went, Arah’s was much, much simpler.

He just wanted a friend.

It was easier said than done, of course, what with everyone always yelling at him. Always. Like, he understood he was a bit on the large side, being an Ifrit King and everything, but even he deserved to be happy, didn’t he? But no one ever understood. He’d peek through the clouds and look at the others as the tinier ifrits ran and clashed their claws with each other. It sounded like so much fun. But they never gave Arah a chance to join them. Every time he was near, they just seemed to know.

It was a mystery like no other.

And then—

And then they’d drop to their knees and start yelling.

Like it was somehow his fault.

Arah had once tried to ask them why, but they just… condensed into liquid, and seeped into the land.

Talk about being mean.

It was a good thing that Arah liked to sleep. It wasn’t like he needed to eat, or breathe, or blink. Not that he could. You needed eyebrows for that. Arah wasn’t exactly sure what this eyebrow-thing did but those four-armed tiny tots had them. They looked very disagreeable to the others, but hey, they were friendlier, so who cared, right? He had once come down to play with one of them, and it had brought its friends to play as well. Plus, spitting fire was a very boring activity. Why would anyone consider spitting fire interesting when Arah could just... Whatever, life was all about compromise, so Arah had accepted it with a smile.

And for want of a little variety, showed them how to spit fire out of his eye.

He thought they’d appreciate the variety he brought to their little game. Instead…

Instead, he found them all gone.

Like… gone.

Maybe they had gotten jealous of his eye-spitting and ran away to sulk? Arah didn’t know. He’d never met that crowd after that, despite searching for them, which was where he had come across the next best thing.

Holes.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best description out there, but Arah wasn’t very knowledgeable, was he? All he knew was that they popped in and out, leaking new-color mist, belching tiny creatures from within. Originally, Arah thought that someone was playing peekaboo on the other side, so he rushed in to grab a hole before it closed, but to no avail. Instead, those tiny creatures just vanished in flames.

While yelling at him, that is.

It was so weird.

This world that he grew up in didn’t have a new-color mist, just red and yellow and… black-ish. Arah wasn’t the most skilled at remembering colours, but he was sure there was no new-color here. Maybe there were more new-colors on the other side?

Yes. That was the right idea. He’d leave this stupid place. He’d go to this more new-color world and seek new friends. Maybe he’d come back after a while, and play peekaboo with his mean friends here, to see if they are missing him. And then he’d leave them for the more new-color world again.

That’d teach them to stop being mean.

Not for very long, though. He’d not make them cry.

Yes. Arah was a big softie. He couldn’t help it. It was his nature.

…

…

It hadn’t worked out.

Arah had stopped jumping at the holes, and instead, trying to befriend the tiny creatures that came out of it. They were mean too, but less than the mean ones. They did not yell at him, which was nice for once, and even brought more friends, but then they yelled and vanished when Arah showed them his eye-spitting thing.

In hindsight, he should have tried something else. Maybe he was just bad at this eye-spitting thing? Or maybe eye-spitting was an ifrits’ thing. These were not ifrits. He’d need to come up with something else.

Another long sleep followed before he came up with a new trick. This time it wasn’t a spit. Oh no, spits were ugly, and they splattered all over the place. This time, it was a beam. Like the ones coming from the star above, only thicker. Like, if the star could shoot all that from that far, he’d have to do better, right?

Why else would they think he was worth making friends?

At least, that’s what he thought. And it wasn’t like Arah had a better idea.

Imagine his surprise when, the next time he performed his eye-beam trick, his new playmates just vanished. They didn’t even bother to yell.

Along with the land they were on.

And the hole.

Arah had thrown a tantrum, kicked those large cone-like pieces of land, and made an absolute mess before heading to another long sleep.

…

…

That was… sometime ago. Arah was bad at counting, but the specifics weren’t important, anyway. The important thing was that someone had woken him up. He had sensed another hole forming, only this one was… well, opening from this world.

But it had given him an idea.

He could always try opening a hole himself.

Excited, he had pawed through the air, but absolutely nothing happened. The stupid red and yellow stayed. But if this new creature,no, not one. Two. Two of them were there, and they knew how to open a hole.

But wait. He had seen how the creature was yelling while opening the hole. Even though Arah had not shown himself. So, maybe, just maybe, he was not yelling at Arah, but at the hole?

That made Arah think. Maybe the others were also yelling, not at Arah, but at these holes?

That thought led to another thought. Could it be that yelling made those holes open faster? It would explain a lot. Armed with this knowledge, Arah knew it was time to experiment. Only through the power of experimentation could he make the correct inference. Who knew? Maybe Arah would even make a friend in the process?

Gathering himself, Arah let out a nice, loud yell. It wasn’t his loudest, but it was louder than the tiny creature. So when the world all around him instantly turned darker, Arah knew he was on the right track.

…

…

He was on the wrong track. It wasn’t working. Maybe if he asked them nicely, they’d be inclined to teach it to him? Arah was a big believer in reciprocation, so he introduced himself with an eye-spitting gesture.

And promptly cheered out in victory when the creatures didn’t vanish!

Yes! Finally, his efforts had borne fruit. Finally, he had come across someone that didn’t think too badly of his eye-spitting. Excited, Arah moved to his next technique — the eye-beam. Just like before, the creatures stood where they were, and Arah could feel his beam split apart without them vanishing. And the best part? They weren’t even yelling.

Whooping in joy, Arah manifested himself in all his glory. He was a spiritual being, but he rather liked not being a mass of hot gases and flame. Instead, he had taken a little of everything he had seen from this world and reshaped himself. It was hardly a perfect look, but Arah was open to criticism and experimentation. But for now, it would do. The head, he based on the tiny ifrits, complete with the mane, the bodies upon those four-armed creatures that he had met once and only once. He had seen flying serpents in the sky, but it wouldn’t fit in his new body, so he had morphed his claws into those serpents. He could even make them spit flames, which, in his humble opinion, was insanely cool.

When his new… acquaintances did not vanish, Arah felt bolder. He had to know just what it was he did right this time around. Not wasting any more time, he went closer, trying to grab them with his hands. The world, big and jealous thing that it was, mimicked him, raising a wall of red and yellow to get to the new friendlies before him and—

—Stopped?

Arah tilted his head, surprised and confused. Despite his surprise at fire not acting like fire and just… stopping like that, he just grinned wider and flexed his wings. He wasn’t sure if this new creature was using physical force or some new trick, but every bit of flame that fell on him just dissipated.

Arah had never seen a neater trick.

Curious, he extended a hand.

And it stopped too.

Arah pulled his hand back and tried again. It stopped again.

And again. This time with both hands. And again. And again and again. Every time he tried, he would hit an invisible wall and just stop. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, his hand would just not penetrate past that invisible wall.

Arah squealed in exhilaration. This was so much better than eye-spitting. This was what playing felt like. But Arah was not one to accept defeat. He would break this invisible wall, and he would get them. He flexed both hands and extended them out at full strength.

His appendages crashed against the barrier and disintegrated into flame. Quickly calling them back, Arah tried again, this time with his eye-spitting and eye-beam and a couple more combinations.

It did not matter.

The wall would just. Not. Break.

Was this what his friends could do? No, not friends. Friend. Singular. Out of the two, only one was playing with him. The other was just… there. Lazing around. Arah hated lazy people. Still, was that all he could do? Stop things?

Was this all of it? Arah asked. He doubted that his new friend could understand his tongue, so he had prepared himself for disappointment. Imagine his surprise when his friend raised its hand and —

— Blasted Arah into smithereens.

He hadn’t even felt whatever his new friend had done before it had happened. Wanting to see the limits of this new trick, Arah quickly reformed into many, many smaller forms of himself, and rushed at his friend excitedly.

He had not been disappointed.

Arah only had a moment to look at it in surprise, when an invisible heaviness slammed into all of him from above. Arah had never felt a weight like this before, and it took everything to not disperse into mana instantly. Instead, all of him fell down on their hands and knees, crushing several of those claw-snake thingies they had created. The invisible heaviness kept crushing them down, no matter what they did to escape it.

If he didn’t know better, they’d have thought this friend was trying to kill them. Maybe it was time for him to show some of his own tricks. Reciprocation was key, after all. With a yell, Arah fused the parts of himself back into one, and shattered through the ever-so-slightly weakening invisible heaviness and dispersed himself into mana, only to reform himself back in his gigantic form and—

Gone?

Arah blinked.

Yes. His friend was gone. As was its lazy friend.

Disappointed, Arah clumsily sat down in the lava sea that existed instead of the terrain.

Goodbye, friend! He thought, Perhaps this was all our friendship was meant to be.