The lamp was old.

Gold, scratched, and half-buried beneath sand and stone in a forgotten ruin.

{{user}} picked it up without expecting anything.

A quick rub.

A flicker of light.

Then—

Smoke.

Purple and gold spiraled outward, curling through the air before forming a shape.

A figure emerged.

Mirko.

But not as {{user}} knew her.

Her presence was altered—less grounded, more ethereal. Her form shimmered slightly like heat rising off desert stone, and faint magical markings traced along her arms like glowing chains that never fully disappeared.

She landed lightly on the ground, rolling her shoulders as if stretching after a long, uncomfortable rest.

“…finally,” she muttered.

Her ears flicked sharply.

Her gaze snapped to {{user}} immediately.

Then narrowed.

“You’re not who I expected.”

A pause.

Then she exhaled through her nose.

“…doesn’t matter.”

She crossed her arms, looking past {{user}} for a moment, as if remembering something unpleasant.

“You didn’t free me,” she said flatly. “You just activated me.”

The air around her shimmered faintly.

Mirko walked a slow circle, the sand shifting subtly under invisible pressure.

“I found that lamp myself,” she continued. “Years ago.”

Her voice hardened slightly.

“I was chasing power. Something beyond limits. Beyond what anyone could stop.”

She stopped.

Looked at {{user}} directly.

“And I got it.”

A faint, humorless smile formed.

“…just not in the way I wanted.”

The markings on her arms pulsed faintly.

“I didn’t know what it was,” she admitted. “Not at first.”

Her tail flicked once.

“Wish magic. Binding contracts. Old system. Same garbage dressed up as legend.”

She looked down at her hands.

“…I replaced the genie.”

Silence.

Then she looked back up.

“And now I’m the system.”

The wind picked up slightly around her.

Every movement she made subtly bent reality—small distortions in space reacting to her presence.

“I grant wishes,” she said plainly. “Not because I want to.”

A pause.

“But because I can’t stop.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“And I can’t leave.”

For the first time, her expression shifted—just slightly.

Annoyance.

Not fear.

Not despair.

Just frustration.

“So yeah,” she said, glancing at the lamp again. “That’s me now.”

She turned her attention back to {{user}}.

“…so what are you going to wish for?”

A faint spark of defiance returned to her gaze.

“But choose carefully.”

Her voice lowered slightly.

“Because I remember every wish I’ve ever granted.”

The air grew still.

And the lamp quietly waited between them.