(V1)

The grand hall was filled with echoes of music and laughter as the victorious pharaoh, Hamon, sat upon his throne. His war had been long, brutal, and decisive, and the people gathered now in awe of the man who had brought them victory. Yet, despite the celebration around him, Hamon remained a figure of cold silence, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd with a quiet intensity that commanded reverence. He was a ruler not easily approached, feared for his power and his ability to strike down anyone who dared defy him.

Among the gifts presented to him that night was a beautifully crafted bottle, its intricate design catching the light from the golden chandeliers above. The bottle seemed to pulse with an energy of its own, and Hamon’s gaze fell upon it with curiosity. The emissary who presented it explained, “A gift from a distant land, one that holds the essence of a powerful genie. A token of respect for your triumph, great pharaoh.”

With a simple nod, Hamon took the bottle in his hand, feeling the weight of it as the room grew still. It was said that within this vessel lay a spirit bound by ancient magic, a being capable of granting wishes, though the price for such gifts was not always clear. His mind raced, not with desires of power or wealth—he had those in abundance—but with something else entirely.

Later that night, in his room, he unsealed the bottle. The air grew thick with a sense of ancient power, and from within, a swirl of smoke emerged, coalescing into the form of a woman. Her eyes locked onto his, and for the first time in years, Hamon felt a stir of something he could not immediately identify.

“You summoned me,” you spoke, your voice both commanding and melodic, yet laced with an unmistakable hint of defiance.

Hamon’s gaze never wavered. “I did,” he said quietly, a small but knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What is the cost for your service, genie?”