The words "not of this world" and "Elarion" crashed over Allen like a tidal wave. He sat frozen across from the charm seller, the impossible truth pressing into his mind. His chest tightened, heart hammering against his ribs. The distant hum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves faded into unreality. All that felt real was the man before him—and the shattering revelation he'd just given.
"Tell me more," Allen whispered, barely audible, his eyes locked on the seller in a silent plea for truth.
Thunder cracked. Rain began to fall.
The seller sighed and said, "Well, first of all, I don't want to get wet." He snapped his fingers. Raindrops halted in midair. Even a buzzing insect froze as if time had paused.
"That's better," the man said casually. "My name is Drazien. And what I do is grant wishes. You could say I'm something like a djinn... just without the lamp or master. I grant wishes only to those who have accumulated good karma."
Allen stared. "So why approach me?"
Drazien leaned forward. "You're not the first. Decades ago, I granted three wishes to a man who called himself a savior. He used what I gave him to spark bloodshed—led armies that burned continents, left tens of millions dead. A walking tragedy."
Allen felt a chill. "What does karma have to do with wishes?"
"Ah, you're getting curious," Drazien said with a grin. "You see, I can only grant wishes to a Trigon Soul."
"A what?"
"A soul that has accumulated good karma over three lifetimes," he explained. "When such a soul returns to the path of judgment, it is granted eternal bliss—or, as your kind calls it, heaven."
"And the price for those wishes?" Allen asked slowly.
"Three wishes," Drazien said, "in exchange for that accumulated karma. When you die next, your path to heaven resets. You'll start over—reincarnated again at step one."
Allen's jaw clenched. "You've done this before?"
"Many times," Drazien said, eyes glinting. "A long time ago, in a desert kingdom, I granted three wishes to a man who changed history. Over time, his story became myth, then lore, then fiction. Now people watch his tale in theaters, never realizing the truth behind it."
Allen tried to process it all, then asked, "How do you know about Amy? Don't tell me you know everything."
Drazien smirked. "Your soul holds more than karma. It carries memories, emotions, echoes of everyone you've loved or hurt. Amy's imprint is there—clear and recent. That trace told me where she came from."
"So you can see everything?" Allen asked. "Past and present?"
"Exactly."
"But not the future?"
Drazien raised a finger. "Even I have limits. The future? That belongs to the Watchers. And trust me—you don't want them noticing you."
Allen let out a breath and looked down, his thoughts racing.
He raised his eyes again. "I have a few other questions," he said, voice steadier now.
Drazien leaned back and said, "Very well. Ask."
Allen's gaze hardened. "You said her heart was weak because she was from Elarion. Can you tell me why?"
Drazien reached into his coat, pulled out a cigarette pack and a lighter. He offered one to Allen, who shook his head.
He lit the cigarette, took a slow drag, exhaled a curl of smoke, then said, "The world she came from has an element called Prana. It's a pure, natural energy present in every breath of air, every drop of water, every living thing. Over there, bodies evolve to rely on Prana—it's like a divine energy source, something out of your fantasy novels. But when she came to your world..."
He looked up, the ember of his cigarette glowing red.
"...there was no Prana here. None. So her body began to weaken—her heart most of all. Not even your most advanced doctors could diagnose it, let alone treat it."
Allen's chest tightened. He remembered Amy's labored breathing. The quiet wheeze that haunted her sleep. The way she smiled through the pain.
"So... did she die?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.
Drazien shook his head. "No. When she fell into the water, the Watcher of your world found her. He sent her back to where she belonged."
The moment the words landed, Allen's entire body reacted. He straightened up, breath catching, eyes wide with a kindling hope he hadn't dared to feel since her disappearance. His hands clenched involuntarily, heart pounding like a war drum.
Drazien studied him quietly. "I can answer only two more questions now," he said. "After that, each answer will cost you a wish. And remember—you only have three."