CHAPTER 2
813 Words
Chapter 2: The Lamp That Whispers
Jenny Reyes barely slept that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the golden light, the swirling smoke, and the haunting face of the man who called himself Azrael. The name alone sounded ancient—too heavy for the small, quiet life she lived.
When she woke up, the lamp was still on her table, dull and lifeless, as if nothing had happened.
“Was it just a dream?” she whispered, rubbing her eyes.
Her entire room was silent. The cold breeze that used to creep through the cracked window was gone. Even the usual noise from the streets outside seemed to fade.
Jenny cautiously walked closer. The lamp looked harmless now—just a piece of old metal. She picked it up and shook it. Nothing.
“Great, Jenny,” she muttered to herself. “Now you’re talking to junk.”
But when she set it down, a faint sound echoed again.
A whisper.
Low, gentle, almost like a sigh.
She froze.
“Hello?”
No answer.
She swallowed hard and reached for the lamp once more, her fingers trembling. “If someone’s in there… this isn’t funny.”
Suddenly, the lamp glowed faintly, and a deep, familiar voice echoed through her small apartment.
“You doubt your own eyes, little mortal?”
Jenny gasped and stumbled backward, hitting her chair. “You—You’re real?”
Before her eyes, the same golden smoke began to rise, filling the air with a sweet, strange scent—like burning incense. From the mist emerged the tall, striking figure she had seen last night. His skin shimmered faintly with markings that pulsed like living fire, and his golden eyes seemed to see right through her.
“I told you,” he said softly. “I am Azrael. Genie of the lamp. Bound by fate, sealed for centuries.”
Jenny pressed herself against the wall, heart racing. “Th-this can’t be real. This is—some kind of trick, right? A hallucination!”
Azrael stepped closer, his gaze curious yet calm. “You mortals always think what you do not understand must be false.”
“I’m not crazy!” she snapped, pointing at him with shaking hands. “You—whatever you are—stay away from me!”
He chuckled, the sound low and oddly soothing. “If I wanted to harm you, mortal, you wouldn’t be standing there.”
Jenny blinked, speechless. “Then what do you want?”
“I want nothing,” he replied. “You are my master now. You released me. By the laws of my kind, I owe you three wishes.”
Jenny frowned. “Three… wishes?”
Azrael nodded. “Anything your heart desires. Wealth, beauty, power, love, even revenge. Speak it, and it shall be yours.”
She stared at him, half-tempted to laugh. “You’re joking. Wishes? Seriously? What is this, a fairytale?”
“I do not joke,” Azrael said coldly. “But heed my warning—” He stepped closer, his expression darkening. “Every wish has a price. What you take from fate, fate will take back.”
Jenny’s lips parted slightly. There was something in his voice—a deep sadness that didn’t sound rehearsed.
She glanced at the lamp again, then back at him.
“If what you’re saying is true…” she began slowly, “then why do you sound like you hate granting wishes?”
Azrael’s golden eyes flickered, the glow dimming slightly. “Because every wish I grant brings someone closer to their ruin.”
The room fell silent. Only the faint hum of the lamp filled the air.
Jenny hugged her arms tightly around herself. “Then I don’t want any wishes. I just want to live my life in peace.”
A faint smile curved Azrael’s lips, almost bitter. “Mortals always say that. Until desperation whispers louder than fear.”
Jenny met his gaze, heart pounding. “You don’t know me.”
“Perhaps not yet.”
Before she could answer, the light from the lamp began to flicker again. Azrael’s form wavered like mist.
“Wait!” she cried. “Where are you going?”
He looked at her one last time, his golden eyes softening. “Back to where I belong… until you call me again.”
And just like that, he vanished into thin air, leaving only a faint trail of smoke and the echo of his voice.
Jenny sank to the floor, staring at the lamp in disbelief.
Her heart was racing, her mind spinning.
“Three wishes,” she whispered to herself. “But with a price…”
Lightning flashed outside the window, illuminating her reflection on the glass—pale, trembling, but with a strange light in her eyes.
Something told her this was only the beginning.
- Writer
