There was no pain.
There was no sound, no color, no direction. Just a stillness — infinite and pure.
Elarin Solas floated in a vast nothingness, his body both weightless and present. He opened his eyes, but there was no light to see. He tried to breathe, but there was no air to pull. And yet… he existed. Not as flesh, not as spirit, but something in-between.
Then, as if the universe exhaled, the darkness began to shift.
A soft glow formed beneath him — starlight, blooming in patterns beneath his feet. Ancient sigils and spirals of luminous silver carved themselves into an unseen floor. Slowly, the glow expanded, revealing a platform of crystal light suspended in a void of endless black.
Above him, the stars moved.
Not scattered, not random — they swirled in elegant orbits, alive with purpose. Constellations bent into symbols, folded into shapes that Elarin instinctively understood but could not name. They pulsed like a heartbeat, each one in sync with something greater.
Then came the voice.
Not heard with ears, but with his soul.
"Elarin Solas. You have reached the place between ends and beginnings."
He turned — or thought he did — and saw a figure taking form at the far end of the platform. Cloaked in robes that shimmered like stardust, tall beyond human height, faceless yet full of presence. Their voice echoed without volume.
"You have died. But your life was not wasted."
Elarin bowed his head, instinctively reverent, though he said nothing. Emotion swelled in his chest — confusion, calm, awe.
"You gave freely. You asked for nothing. You touched hearts that the world had forgotten."
The figure raised a hand, and suddenly images danced around Elarin — illusions of his life:
Children laughing under the snowfall. A boy hugging him tightly after learning to read. Sera's shy smile after her nightmares faded. A meal shared in silence with a crying child.
Then the figure's voice deepened, resonating through the stars.
"Because of this… you are granted a wish."
Elarin blinked slowly. A wish?
He had heard stories. Old ones. Of lamps and spirits. Of gods and judgment. But this felt older than myth. It felt… sacred.
"One wish," the voice repeated. "Any shape. Any path. But you must choose it with intent."
Elarin hesitated. His mind swirled. He thought of peace. Of those he had left behind. Of how little he had ever asked for.
He looked up into the swirling galaxies and whispered — not with words, but with meaning:
"Then let me keep giving. Let me become the one who answers. Let me grant the wishes of others."
There was silence. And then — laughter.
Not mocking. Not cruel. But surprised.
"You would give away your wish… to serve others?"
He nodded.
The stars shifted. A second figure emerged — smaller, sharper, eyes glowing like embers. This one carried a long staff capped with a jewel that pulsed with chaotic power.
"He wants to be a genie," the second voice said. "Just like the old tales."
The first figure turned slightly, as though smiling without a face.
"I lack the authority to forge such chains. But my companion may grant this wish — if he deems you worthy."
The second figure floated forward, robes whirling like torn wind. He circled Elarin once, twice, staring deep into his soul.
"Not many ask for chains. Fewer still welcome them."
He paused, considering.
"Very well. But you will not be the first to make this request. And you will not be the last. All genies bear regrets. Some are broken. Some rebel. You must understand the price."
Elarin did not flinch.
The second figure raised his hand, and 14 points of golden fire surrounded Elarin in a ring. Each flame spoke a rule, a law — binding and eternal. The sacred conditions of all geniekind.
When the last flame faded, the figure asked one final question:
"What are your two personal conditions? Choose wisely. They cannot protect you from your masters. But they may help you survive."
Elarin thought. And then, in a voice clear and calm, he spoke his truth.
"Star Trail — let the sky shimmer where I am lost, so others may remember."
"Whispered Intent — let me hear what hearts hide when they speak in lies."
The figures looked at each other. A long silence passed.
And then the stars shattered.
Light consumed everything. The platform vanished. The void folded into itself.
And far, far away — on a dusty road in a forgotten desert — a lamp rolled from a trader's satchel, landing softly beside a dying campfire.
The wind stirred.
The lamp hummed.
The genie had arrived.