333 BTFOM – The Genie Vessel
The night the storm hit, Damian was camped with a small trade caravan near the (Desert place) a vast, wind-battered desert that locals swore shifted its shape every few years. He’d gone scavenging to see what the weather dug up after the storm tore through, hoping to find something worth selling. What he found instead was half-buried brass glinting in the moonlight.
The vessel was beautiful even in ruin, carved with spiralling runes and sealed by molten glass. It hummed faintly, warm to the touch, and the sand around it shimmered like desert heat. Damian, ever the curious fool, brushed the dust away and muttered a joke about luck. The lamp flared to life.
The world split open.
Fire roared upward, forming a silhouette of molten gold and crimson flame. Her eyes like twin suns, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. Flarereen, a genie bound by ancient magic, stepped forth.
She regarded him not as a master, but as a nuisance, witch of course he was, yet something in his audacity intrigued her. Where others begged for riches or immortality, Damian only smiled and asked questions.
They spoke for hours, their conversation equal parts curiosity and challenge. By dawn, she offered him what was his by right: three wishes.
And Damian, with the naïve brilliance only a mortal can possess, spoke words that would bind them both forever:
“I wish to be untouched by time for as long as I desire it.”
“I wish to share in your power.”
“I wish you to be as free as I am.”
The desert went silent. The lamp cracked. The cuffs appeared on his wrists, glowing with her magic. No longer restraints, but a promise, a gift.
When he looked up again, she was gone, the sands cooling around his feet. He left the wrecked vessel where it lay, now just useless glass, emoty of potential.