The forest was quiet—too quiet.
Days had passed since Lia used her second wish. She and Maru survived off berries and stream water, sheltered in the damp hollow of the moss-covered cave. They barely spoke. The silence stretched between them like a wound that wouldn't close.
At night, Lia curled around the lamp, clutching it like a talisman. Mister Genie never spoke unless spoken to now. His presence lingered in the shadows of the trees, watchful, unreadable.
Maru sat near the cave mouth, legs pulled to his chest, watching the leaves shift in the wind. His eyes—once so full of wonder—had dimmed.
"They're going to find us," he said one morning, voice small.
Lia stirred the ashes of their fire. "Let them try."
"They have horses. Dogs. Men. You saw what they did. They won't stop."
Lia didn't answer. But deep inside, she knew he was right.
Lord Brenner would not let go. Not after what he had seen. Not after Cray's humiliation. They would scour the land for her. For the lamp. For the power he believed belonged to kings—not children.
And he had allies.
Cray sat beneath a blood-red banner in Dustwater's war room. Maps lay strewn across the table, with charcoal marks tracking caravan routes, river paths, old hunting trails. A shadow loomed behind him—his father's right hand, a man called Varric, draped in a wolf-pelt cloak.
"She has one wish left," Cray said. "And we need it."
"Need her," Varric corrected. "The genie won't grant anything to anyone else. Not yet."
Cray's jaw clenched. "Then we find her. We take the boy. Break her down. Use the wish."
A messenger burst into the room. "Tracks. Deepwood forest. Fresh. Burned sigils on nearby trees—arcane. Genie markings."
Cray stood. "Ride."
The day they came was stormless.
The air was humid. The forest smelled of wet soil and pine bark. Lia and Maru were returning from the stream when they heard it—hoofbeats. Many.
Lia froze. Maru reached for her hand, trembling.
"They're here," he whispered.
She turned to run.
Too late.
Arrows whistled through the air. One struck a tree trunk inches from Lia's head. Another grazed her arm. They dove behind a boulder, panting, hearts pounding.
Mister Genie shimmered into view beside them.
"You cannot use another wish to flee again," he said. "You must choose differently."
"They'll kill us," Lia hissed. "They'll take you!"
The genie's golden eyes were somber. "Then decide how much you are willing to lose."
They ran.
Through brambles and ravines. Through thorns that tore their clothes and branches that scratched their skin.
But the men closed in—Cray at the front, riding hard, a gleam of madness in his eyes. "You can't run forever, girl!"
Maru stumbled. His leg twisted in a root, and he fell hard, crying out.
Lia skidded to a halt, rushing back.
"Go!" he sobbed. "You can still get away!"
"Shut up!" she cried, grabbing him.
She saw them coming—Cray's men spreading like wolves. Varric among them, sword drawn.
Mister Genie appeared beside her again. "They will reach you in seconds."
Lia's hand gripped the lamp.
But she didn't speak.
Not yet.
She helped Maru up, slinging his arm over her shoulder.
They darted toward the ancient stones she had seen days ago—monoliths carved with runes, older than Dustwater itself. The genie's power lingered stronger there. She didn't know why.
They reached the stones as the soldiers closed in.
Cray dismounted.
"End of the road," he said, stepping forward with a dagger in hand. "Give me the lamp."
Mister Genie stood behind Lia like a pillar of gold.
"You want a wish so badly?" she spat. "What would you even wish for?"
Cray's lip curled. "To undo your first one."
"You'd lie again," she said coldly. "And start this all over."
Maru whimpered behind her.
Lia looked to the genie.
Then back at Cray.
"Don't come closer," she warned.
He lunged.
A flash of movement.
A scream.
Cray hit the ground—bleeding from the leg, Varric yanking him back as other men surrounded them. The genie hadn't attacked. He hadn't needed to. Cray had tripped on the ancient root between the stones.
"Lia," Maru whispered, "I'm scared."
She held him tightly, heart pounding.
She didn't make the final wish that night.
But the lamp glowed faintly in her satchel, pulsing like a heartbeat.