I had just turned nineteen and was still figuring out what intrigued me. But something about his brooding, mysterious demeanor caught my interest. He entered the shop with a purposeful stride, as if on a mission. I'd noticed him pacing outside a few times before finally making his entrance, and his determination was almost palpable. The tension in his stance was unmistakable, suggesting he was ready for a confrontation. However, when his gaze settled on me, the intensity softened ever so slightly.
"I'm here to see the magician," he declared, his voice firm and authoritative. "I have a wish to make."
I was shelving books-possibly in the wrong places, since I was still new and unfamiliar with the store's organization. Without looking directly at him, I responded with deliberate calmness, "No."
His eyes narrowed in confusion and annoyance. "Aren't you going to go get him?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"No, thanks," I replied, maintaining my casual demeanor. "I prefer to stay alive." Seeing his expression darken, I added, "He's off today. Probably nursing a hangover."
The shifter clenched his jaw, clearly contemplating whether to push further or leave. After a moment of internal debate, he exhaled deeply and nodded. "When should I come back?" he asked, his voice tinged with a reluctant acceptance.
"Hopefully never, for your sake," I mumbled under my breath, though I knew better than to say such things out loud. We weren't allowed to dissuade or warn any potential clients, regardless of how reckless their desires seemed.
His expression tightened at my response, but he said nothing more. As he left, I watched him go, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension bubbling inside me. There was something unsettling about him, something that hinted at a deeper story, one that I couldn't yet see.
The days passed uneventfully until Wednesday, when the shifter returned. This time, he looked even more determined, if that were possible. He marched straight to the counter, his eyes locking onto mine with a focus that made my heart race.
"Is the magician in?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.
I hesitated, glancing toward the back of the shop where the magician often hid away. "Yes, but he's not in the best mood today," I warned, though I knew it was futile.
The shifter's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and desperation. "I need to see him," he insisted. "It's important."
Reluctantly, I nodded and motioned for him to wait. I walked to the back room, feeling a knot of unease in my stomach. The magician, a wiry old man with a penchant for cryptic sayings and a mysterious past, was lounging in his usual spot, surrounded by books and peculiar artifacts.
"We have a visitor," I announced, trying to sound casual. "He says it's important."
The magician raised an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with interest. "Send him in," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips.
I returned to the front, signaling the shifter to follow me. As he entered the back room, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of foreboding. The magician greeted him with a knowing nod, as if he had been expecting this encounter.
"So, you seek a wish," the magician stated, more than asked.
The shifter nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, I need your help."
The magician leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Be careful what you wish for," he said, his tone both warning and inviting. "Every wish has its price."
The shifter hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with a mix of determination and resignation. "I understand the risks. But I have no other choice."
The magician nodded thoughtfully, then gestured for the shifter to take a seat. "Tell me your wish," he instructed.
The room seemed to grow colder as the shifter began to speak, outlining his desire with a conviction that left no room for doubt. He spoke of lost love, unfulfilled promises, and a desperate need to change his fate. As he spoke, I could see the magician's eyes flicker with something akin to pity, though his face remained impassive.
When the shifter finished, the magician sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the request. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft yet firm. "I can grant your wish, but remember, every action has consequences. Are you prepared to face them?"
The shifter nodded without hesitation. "I am."
The magician nodded in return, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Very well. Your wish will be granted. But remember, the price may be more than you are willing to pay."
With that, the magician stood and walked to a shelf filled with ancient tomes and peculiar objects. He selected a small vial filled with a shimmering liquid and handed it to the shifter. "Drink this tonight, under the full moon," he instructed. "Your wish will be fulfilled."
The shifter took the vial, his expression unreadable. He thanked the magician and left the shop, leaving me with a sense of unease that I couldn't shake. The magician watched him go, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Sometimes, the greatest wishes are born from the greatest regrets," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "Let's hope he finds what he's looking for."
As the door closed behind the shifter, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him. In the world of magic and wishes, nothing was ever as simple as it seemed, and the consequences of a single wish could ripple through the lives of many.
And so, with a heavy heart and a mind full of questions, I returned to my work, knowing that the shifter's story was far from over. In a world where magic existed, anything was possible, and nothing was ever truly certain.