They say a Djinn will grant you three wishes… but they never tell you the price.
Zahran al-Ruh, a trickster bound in smoke and shadows, has wandered centuries twisting desires into nightmares. Gold becomes poison, love becomes obsession, freedom becomes chains. Every wish leaves ashes in its wake.
Yet beneath the mischief and cruelty, Zahran hides a secret: a heart that has been searching for true love since the day he was cursed. A love strong enough to see past his tricks, his darkness, his endless loneliness.
When his vessel falls into the hands of someone bold enough to make a wish, the game begins. But this time… will it end in ruin, or redemption?
Three wishes.
One curse.
And a Djinn who dares to dream of love.
The market was nearly silent when the storm rolled in. Merchants hurried to cover their wares, shutters slammed, and the sky swallowed the last of the sun in a whirl of black clouds.
But among the chaos, a single stall remained open. No vendor stood behind it—just a collection of oddities that looked as though they had been stolen from forgotten kingdoms.
And at the very center, half-buried in dust and cobwebs, sat a vessel. Bronze, tarnished with age, its surface carved with intricate swirls that seemed to shift under the dim light.
"Strange piece," the shopkeeper muttered, appearing suddenly from the shadows. His eyes gleamed, though his voice carried warning. "Don't touch it, unless you've got a wish to waste."
The words were meant as a joke, yet when Asher reached for it, the vessel felt… warm. Almost alive.
Thunder cracked. The storm swallowed the street whole.
And then came the voice.
Low. Silken. Mocking.
"At last… someone bold enough to open my prison."
Smoke poured from the vessel, curling into the air like serpents. It coiled, twisted, and solidified into the figure of a man—tall, impossibly beautiful, with eyes like molten gold. His smile was sharp enough to cut.
He bowed low, though the gesture was dripping with mockery.
"Zahran al-Ruh, at your service. Three wishes are yours… but I do so adore surprises."
The storm outside seemed to hold its breath.
"Now, mortal," the Djinn purred, circling Asher like a predator, "tell me… what is it that your heart desires?"
Asher froze as the smoke coiled upward, swallowing the dim lantern light until only those golden eyes burned through the haze. His first instinct was to run, but his feet wouldn't move.
The figure—no, the creature—circled him like a lion assessing its prey. His smile was all charm, but there was danger lurking beneath it, sharp and unyielding.
Asher clenched his fists. "You're… a Djinn."
The stranger chuckled, his voice low and velvet smooth. "Ah, so you've heard of me. That will save time. Yes, mortal—Djinn, trickster, monster, curse… I've been called many things. But I prefer Zahran." He leaned close, golden eyes gleaming. "And you, little finder, are my new master."
Asher flinched back. "I don't want to be anyone's master."
"Too late," Zahran purred. He raised a hand and the air shimmered, the vessel vanishing from Asher's grasp only to reappear chained to the Djinn's wrist. "The moment you touched my prison, the bond was forged. You have three wishes, Asher."
The Djinn's lips curved into a wicked grin. "Three desires to shape the world… or destroy it."
Asher swallowed hard. He'd grown up with stories of Djinn—spirits who twisted wishes until they became curses. Every instinct screamed at him to toss the vessel back into the shadows and forget it existed.
But there was something in Zahran's gaze. Beneath the arrogance, beneath the smoke and gold… something raw. Lonely.
Asher found himself whispering, "And if I don't make a wish?"
Zahran's smile faltered for the briefest moment before he straightened, masking it with mockery. "Then you and I remain bound. I follow, I linger, I wait… until your tongue slips and your desire betrays you. And it will, Asher. Mortals always wish for something."
The storm outside roared, as if punctuating the Djinn's promise.
Asher's heart pounded. He didn't want power. He didn't want riches. What he wanted… he couldn't even admit to himself.
And the Djinn—this beautiful, terrifying creature—was watching him with unnerving intensity, as though he could already taste the secrets in Asher's soul.
"Three wishes," Zahran murmured, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, almost intimate.
"But be careful, little mortal. For each one carries a price."
Asher's pulse hammered in his throat. He had seen storms tear apart ships, seen fire swallow homes, but nothing compared to the raw power standing before him now.
Zahran tilted his head, studying him with lazy amusement. "Strange," the Djinn mused, circling him like smoke curling around a flame. "Most mortals fall to their knees by now. Begging. Whimpering. Promising their souls in exchange for gold, power, love… but you—" He leaned in, voice soft as silk. "You just look frightened. Frightened, and stubborn."
Asher swallowed, trying to steady his voice. "Because I know what you are. Every story says the same—you twist wishes into curses. No matter how carefully they're spoken."
Zahran laughed, the sound rich and dangerous, echoing against the storm. "Oh, how delightful! A mortal who knows the rules, yet still dared to touch my vessel. Tell me, Asher—" his golden eyes narrowed, catching the flicker of lightning outside, "—what did you expect to find?"
Asher hesitated. He hadn't expected anything. He had only ducked into the forgotten stall to escape the rain, drawn by some unseen pull toward the dust-covered relic. Now he wondered if fate had guided him here… or doomed him.
"I didn't expect you," Asher muttered.
Zahran smirked, though for the briefest moment, something flickered in his gaze. Something older. Wearier.
"Few ever do."
He snapped his fingers, and the lanterns above blazed to life, casting the market in an unnatural glow. Shadows danced at his command, curling around Asher's ankles like chains.
"You see," Zahran said, his tone suddenly sharp, "the curse is not mine alone. It is yours as well. Until the last wish is spent, you are bound to me. Wherever you go, I go. Whatever you desire, I hear. Whatever weakness you hide…" His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "…I will find it."
Asher's breath caught. Bound? To him?
"Three wishes," Zahran repeated, softer now, almost intimate. He stepped close enough that Asher could smell the faint, smoky incense clinging to his skin. "Three chances to change your life. But remember—" he tapped a finger against Asher's chest, right over his racing heart, "every gift carries its price."
Thunder roared overhead, but this time Asher barely heard it. He was too focused on the golden-eyed Djinn standing before him—beautiful, dangerous, and yet… strangely hollow, as though all his charm and cruelty were a mask for something else.
For the first time in his life, Asher felt two instincts collide: to run as far as he could… and to stay.
Zahran's golden eyes gleamed, catching the flicker of lightning as if it were his own. "You doubt me, little mortal. That stubbornness in your gaze—delicious, but dangerous. Perhaps a… demonstration is in order."
Asher stiffened. "I don't need—"
The Djinn snapped his fingers. Instantly, the storm vanished. The howling winds silenced, the rain halted midair, each droplet frozen in place like crystal beads hanging in the air. The world stood still. Only Asher and Zahran moved freely in that unnatural silence.
Asher's breath hitched. "What… what did you do?"
"Nothing," Zahran replied, smiling faintly. "Or everything. The line is thin, you see." He plucked a raindrop from the air, rolling it across his fingers until it shimmered into gold. He tossed it at Asher's feet, where it rang against the stone like a coin. "I can make you rich beyond imagining with a breath. Or…"
The gold coin cracked. From it, black smoke erupted, curling into the shape of a snarling hound with burning eyes. The beast lunged at Asher, jaws snapping.
Asher stumbled back with a cry, throwing his arm up in defense—only to hear Zahran laugh, and with a wave of his hand, the creature dissolved back into mist.
"You see?" the Djinn purred, stepping closer. "One man's dream becomes another's nightmare. Desire and ruin—two sides of the same coin."
His hand shot out, fingers gripping Asher's chin, forcing him to meet that molten gaze.
"The question is…" Zahran whispered, his voice silk wrapped around steel, "which side of the coin will you beg me for?"
Asher's heart pounded. He wanted to tear away, to spit a curse at the Djinn, to demand freedom. But the storm outside rumbled back to life, and he knew—trapped between fate and fire—his life had already changed.
And the first test was only beginning.