Give in to temptation.
Find a new salvation.
Lose yourself in damnation.
Aiden's voice threaded through the smoky club like velvet, wrapping around the half-drunk, half-lonely crowd. Coins clinked into his bowl. Some listeners smiled. Some cried without knowing why. Some just stared too long.
Aiden didn't sing only for money.
He sang to feel the pulls in the room.
The desperate.The yearning.The ones whose desires vibrated hard against reality, aching to break through.
Those were the ones who made wishes.
He smiled faintly between lyrics, remembering how this ridiculous new life even started.
When he first arrived in this world, shock wasn't the first thing he felt.
Annoyance was.
He stared at his reflection in a smooth patch of ice.
Pointed ears. Fine skin. Lean, sculpted body like someone ordered "fantasy pretty boy" from a divine catalog.
"…Why do godly entities always do this?" he muttered, rolling his eyes.
He leaned closer.
"…Never mind. I'm gorgeous."
Then his gaze locked onto his eyes.
They were blank.
Not lifeless—too sharp for that.
But empty in a way that suggested a depth with nothing inside.
The kind of emptiness that didn't reflect the world back… it observed it.
"Okay, that's horrifying," he whispered.
"Greetings, my charge!"
Aiden spun, instinct already screaming RUN.
The figure before him was tall, elegant, faintly unreal—silken clothes, sharp grin, the kind of presence that was charming until you remembered it was dangerous.
"Confusing, yes," the stranger nodded pleasantly. "I am the guide the Great One mentioned. A trickster of the Fae. Only you can see me. Consider me your senior… in wish granting."
Aiden swallowed. "Thanks. I think. I'm just—this is… a lot."
"How so?" the fae asked, amused.
"Well first—why do my eyes look like that? Second, what is this noble cosplay I'm wearing? And third, how do I even grant wishes!?"
The fae hummed thoughtfully.
"One. Close your eyes."
Aiden did.
"Calm yourself. Open."
The emptiness felt different now. Still unsettling. But… heavier. Meaningful.
"Your eyes reflect how many wishes you've granted—and the weight you've carried because of them," the fae said softly. "Most will never see it. But some… will."
Aiden wasn't sure if that comforted him.
"Two. Your outfit is divine cloth bound to your being. Armor, robes, casual wear, undergarments—whatever you need, it will become. Try not to insult it. It is more dignified than you."
"…Fair."
"Three," the fae continued, voice brightening again, "you start small. Lost pets. Broken things mended. Comforting the sorrowful. Or perhaps tricking fools by giving them what they think they want. Helping someone with revenge and taking their soul. Whatever path you choose defines you."
Then his smile sharpened with something older than mischief.
"And four… you must understand the rules of wanting."
Aiden blinked. "What rules?"
The fae's tone changed.
Not theatrical.
Not playful.
Ancient.
He leaned forward, eyes shimmering with stars and storms.
"Listen well, little wishborn. You now walk a road older than any kingdom and stranger than truth itself. Wishes are always answered, and the universe always finds its balance—though not angels, nor devils, nor demons, nor my proud kin, nor the ancient djinn have ever agreed on how or why."
Cold wind whispered across the ice.
"Sometimes the price falls on the wisher. Sometimes on those around them. Sometimes… on the one foolish enough to grant it. Sometimes the cost was bled long before the wish was spoken—paid in tragedy, humiliation, heartbreak, or loss. Sometimes kindness is remembered. Sometimes old cruelty is indulged, and the universe lets greed bloom just to watch it rot. Sometimes the toll is disaster. Sometimes petty humiliation. Sometimes, bewilderingly… there is no toll at all. For innocence confounds even the cosmos, and occasionally it simply smiles and gives."
He chuckled softly.
"And none of us—not angels, nor devils, nor demons, nor genies… nor fae—have ever truly understood the logic behind it."
He tapped Aiden's chest lightly.
"But we know this much: the universe remembers. The universe collects. And sometimes… it simply doesn't. The angels call it mystery. The devils call it opportunity. Demons call it entertainment. Genies call it law."
He grinned.
"My kind calls it fun."
Aiden exhaled slowly.
"…That was not reassuring."
"Excellent," the fae said cheerfully. "Then you truly heard it."
He tilted his head.
"Now. A caravan is approaching. You may wish to appear dressed for winter."
Aiden glanced at his clothes.
They shimmered, shifting to thick fur-lined layers with a thought.
He flexed his fingers, watching his breath fade into the air.
"Another perk of being whatever I am," he muttered. "Cold doesn't seem to bother me."
The fae guide smiled.
"Good. You'll need that bravado."
Back in the club, Aiden finished his song to soft applause and scattered coin.
People returned to their drinks.
Their laughter.
Their loneliness.
Their hunger.
And across the room…
he felt it.
Someone's desire shuddered the air like a heartbeat.
Aiden smiled.
The night was just getting interesting.