The storm outside roared back to life, shaking the market stalls as if the world itself feared the Djinn's presence. Asher's breath came ragged, his heart still pounding from the sight of the smoke-born beast that had nearly torn him apart.
Zahran released his chin with a lazy smirk, as though none of it mattered. "Still standing. How fascinating. Most mortals beg after a taste of my power. But you, Asher…" His eyes glowed faintly, molten gold in the flickering light. "…you glare at me. You remind me of someone."
Asher rubbed his jaw where the Djinn's fingers had pressed. "If this is your way of proving a point, I'm not impressed."
Zahran's laugh was soft, dangerous. "Not impressed? I bent the storm to silence, turned rain to gold, gave breath to smoke and shadow—yet you are not impressed?" He tilted his head, studying Asher with unnerving focus. "Perhaps your heart is harder to tempt than I imagined."
"Or maybe," Asher shot back, voice tight, "I'm not foolish enough to want anything from you."
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Zahran's smile widened, sharp and predatory. "Oh, you will, little mortal. Everyone wants something. It is the way of your kind. Wealth, vengeance, freedom, love…" His tone lingered on the last word, softer, almost wistful, before his mask of mockery slipped back into place. "Three wishes, Asher. No more, no less. Speak, and I will obey. But every desire has its cost."
Asher's fists clenched. He could feel the weight of the vessel chained to Zahran's wrist, the bond tethering them together. No escape. Not unless the three wishes were spoken.
"I don't want gold. I don't want power," Asher said firmly, though his voice betrayed a tremor of unease. "And I don't want your tricks."
Zahran's grin softened, though his eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, close enough that Asher could see the faint patterns of shifting smoke across his skin. "Ah… so noble. So stubborn. But tell me, Asher—what of the wish you dare not speak? The one burning in your chest, the one you hide even from yourself?"
Asher froze, his breath caught in his throat. He hated how the Djinn's words slithered into his thoughts, unearthing the quiet ache he carried: the loneliness, the unspoken longing, the hollow place that nothing seemed to fill.
He shook his head violently. "You don't know me."
Zahran leaned in until their faces were inches apart, his voice a dangerous whisper. "No… but I will."
The storm cracked overhead, scattering light across the empty market. Asher's heart pounded—not with fear this time, but something far more dangerous.
The game between mortal and Djinn had begun.
Asher forced himself to take a step back, trying to put space between them. "If you think I'm going to waste my breath wishing for something you can twist against me, you'll be waiting a long time."
Zahran arched a brow, amused. "Waiting?" He gave a sharp laugh, sending a ripple through the frozen storm outside. "I have waited centuries in silence, Asher. Centuries of dust and darkness, hearing nothing but the echo of my own chains. Do you truly believe I fear patience?"
Something in his tone cracked at the edges, and for a fleeting moment, the mask slipped. The arrogance dulled, and a flicker of weariness touched his golden eyes.
Asher noticed it—how could he not? For just an instant, Zahran didn't look like an all-powerful spirit. He looked… lonely.
But then the smirk returned, sharper than ever, as though he had caught himself revealing too much. Zahran leaned lazily against a market pillar, smoke curling around his form like a living cloak. "You're different from the others. You resist, you doubt, you insult." His lips curved into something dangerous. "It makes me wonder… will you break more spectacularly than the rest?"
Asher swallowed hard, refusing to let the words sink their claws into him. "I won't break."
Zahran chuckled, a low rumble in his throat. "Oh, mortal… everyone breaks. It is only a matter of which desire cuts the deepest."
The words hung in the charged air. The storm rumbled above them again, though not with the same violence—it was calmer now, responding not to rage but to something subtler, something almost… curious.
Zahran straightened, his form towering and radiant. "Very well, Asher. Keep your silence for now. Refuse me. Resist me. But understand this—" He raised his hand, and the frozen raindrops fell all at once, the storm resuming in a violent rush. "I am bound to you until the final wish is spoken. Whether you run, fight, or curse me, I will be there. Every step, every breath."
Asher's stomach knotted at the words. He hadn't chosen this, but there was no undoing it now.
Zahran's smile softened—not kind, but quieter than before. "The first wish is always the hardest," he murmured. "And when it slips from your lips, Asher, I will be listening."
With that, the Djinn dissolved into smoke, vanishing into the storm like a shadow returning to its cage. Only the faint scent of incense remained, clinging to the air.
Asher stood alone in the empty market, drenched by the rain, his heart racing with fear… and something else he couldn't name.
For the first time, he wasn't sure if the curse was his—or Zahran's.
Asher turned in a slow circle, the empty market pressing in around him. The stalls stood deserted, lanterns sputtering in the storm's breath. For a moment, he almost convinced himself it had been a hallucination—a fever dream conjured by hunger, exhaustion, and the violent weather.
But then he saw it.
The bronze vessel.
It lay at his feet, half-buried in a shallow puddle, its surface glowing faintly even through the mud and rain.
"No," Asher muttered, backing away. "You're gone. You vanished."
Smoke stirred from the vessel's spout, curling upward in languid ribbons. The storm quieted as the mist thickened, until golden eyes burned once more through the darkness.
"You cannot escape me, little mortal," Zahran said, stepping from the haze with that same infuriating grace. "The bond is sealed. Wherever you go, I go. Whatever you touch, I taste. Whatever you dream…" He leaned close enough that Asher could feel the faint heat radiating from him. "…I see."
Asher's jaw tightened. "You're a parasite."
"Parasite?" Zahran's laugh was velvet-wrapped steel. "Oh no, Asher. I am your shadow. Your reflection. Your greatest temptation." He tilted his head, smile curling like smoke. "And perhaps… your only companion."
The words struck deeper than Asher wanted them to. He hated how true they sounded.
"You said everyone breaks," Asher forced out. "Maybe you're wrong."
Zahran's smile faltered, just for an instant. He studied Asher as though weighing something unseen, something heavy. "Do you know why mortals fascinate me?" he asked quietly. "Because no matter how much you deny it, every one of you hides a wish. A secret longing so sharp it cuts you from the inside out. And when the time comes…" His eyes glowed hotter, brighter. "…I will be the one to answer it."
Asher's stomach twisted. He wanted to deny it, to spit back another retort. But Zahran's voice had sunk beneath his skin, echoing in the hollow places he tried to ignore.
The Djinn reached out, brushing his fingers across the vessel still glowing in the puddle. Smoke rippled outward, curling around Asher's ankles, cool as mist yet heavy as chains.
"Three wishes," Zahran whispered, almost reverently. "Three doors you may open… or three blades you may fall upon. The choice, Asher, is yours."
And with that, the Djinn dissolved once more into smoke, slipping back into the vessel. The storm thundered on, the world resuming its rhythm as though nothing had happened.
Only Asher remained, shivering in the rain, staring at the cursed bronze vessel at his feet.
Bound.
Trapped.
And for the first time, terrified of what his own heart might betray.