Beyond the Glow

Chapter 1

"Asra!" A voice reverberates around the copper walls of my room, my prison. With a sigh, I rise from the bed where I had it pushed against the wall. The silk sheets flowed against my skin and the canopy over my head burst with the colors of the fabrics draped upon both it, and my walls. The plush and elaborate carpets cushioned my bare feet as I crossed the room the the hole in the wall. All signs of my former wealth, freedom.

All lost to me for centuries.

The bland, gray flannel dress scratched against my legs, and my black hair hung limply at my sides. Cynthia insisted I dress like this, to put me in my place. As if every other move she made didn't already demean my existence enough. At least she can't come in here. She would surely find a way to claim all of my colors and priceless rugs as her own. Even with all her wishes gone, not to mention she had no need of the money she would get for selling them. She did it only to break me, to cripple my spirit further, as if being stuck with her was a picnic in the first place. 

The colors jeer at me, mocking the gray when I could easily pull something else from the back of my mind and change. Not yet.

"ASRA!" Ugh. Resignedly, I put my hand in the small hole in the wall, the barrier between my little world and the world of everyone else; pushing through the tissue-like barrier between. With a sucking sound, I was pulled through, and landed on the other end to face another one of Cynthia's tea parties.

My eyes glaze over almost instantly, ignoring the ridiculously dressed people in front of me. Only a select few in the Kingdom were invited to Cynthia's parties, but they were normally all the same. garbed in bright colors and fabrics in combinations that would make a dressmaker weep in despair. 

Cynthia liked being the best looking in a room, she wouldn't have it any other way. 

At my appearance, seemingly out of thin air, the few people ooh-ed, and ahh-ed. Letting out surprised gasps. Cynthia frowned. "Asra, your dress is simply hideous, where do you get your idea's on how to dress yourself? Honestly! Change into something more fitting for the occasion, we have guests." She waves a hand, I take care to guard my features, last time she did this, I had asked why she made me dress this way in the first place. 

Needless to say, she had made sure I regretted making her look bad in front of her friends. Made sure I wouldn't think of doing it again. 

At Cynthia's pointed glare at my extended wait, I put my hand on the copper lamp that sat behind me, now gleaming in the candlelight. I hold back a sigh, holding myself back from stroking the soft pillow it sat on. Closing my eyes, I only had to imagine what to wear before I felt the power flow through me, and heard the gasps of the tea party guests. I knew exactly what I now wore.

A traditional dark purple sari, with the fabric wrapping around my waist as a skirt and thrown over my shoulder. The short top exposing my stomach to the cool air. Cynthia loved when I dressed as one of the more legendary genies. Made her enemies think twice before crossing the path of the woman in posession of a magic creature. From what I hear when the servants are polishing the lamp, there isn't much magic left. 

My hair curled, and bounced upon my shoulders, and just a bit of blush hinted my cheeks while a little eyeliner darkened the edges of my hazel eyes and made them pop. I would pay for it later though, Cynthia hated it when I 'outshone' her.  A smatter of applause started when I opened my eyes, and Cynthia stepped in front of me, "Thank you, I know, she is quite amazing," She paused, beady eyes roving over the audience. "Who would like the wish for this evening?" I remain stone still, taking credit for what I obviously did, not her, was just another thing Cynthia knew I couldn't stop her from doing.

The wish was just a courtesy, of course. By this time, they all knew what I was. This was just another slap to my face. Another reminder that I am completely and utterly controlled by Cynthia, and all of the other Crawdoves. 

An enslaved genie, who would've thought? 

Course, all genies are enslaved, in one way or another. Every person who figures out what I am gets 3 free wishes, I just have to turn it on them somehow. Teach them to live with what they got. But the first Crawdove had been smart. Too smart. The first wish he made, was that there would be no catches to any of the wishes he made.  The second was that I be enslaved to him and his descendants for all generations. He was still debating his third wish when his wife, who had only married for the benefits, poisoned his morning biscuits.

And now, its been 1,000 years, and none of his kids feel like dying without their own kids there to keep me in this prison. I'm still the age I was the day he made that wish, 17. You apparently don't age a day when you've been entrapped by your own magic. The whole thing stinks worse than a chamber pot.

My attention turns back to the party when Cynthia finally picks the lucky winner of a wish from her personal genie. He looks a bit young, 19 or so. Climbing the social ladder early on in life then. Probably wants a wish to make him king or some balderdash like that. Even I have limits. Nobody seems to get that. Of course, some genies can do it, depends on how powerful you are. Why else would miracles happen so easily? I've seen it done too. My father was forced at the end of a sword to make our current king's great-great-who-cares grandfather ruler of the land. 

Course he and Mom can't save me now. Put deep in the ground a long time ago probably. Even if genies live longer than normal humans, we aren't immortal. Just another lie it seems, unless you've been trapped by magic. Like me. The man who won his wish looks at me expectantly, crud. I must have missed it.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that please?" I smile falsely, watching Cynthia's annoyed look out of the corner of my eye. "My mind appears to be in another place today." Cynthia frowns, her mask slipping for a moment, yes, I can see a punishment in my future, but for now I turn my attention back to the man in front of me. His clothes look a bit rundown for a nobleman. Maybe a failing politician than. So early? He sure had a short run. Perhaps he will wish for money, ensure his family line? It's not the first time.

"My wish, is that these shall never fail me." The man smiles and hands me a pair of cheap tin lock-picks; brushing his light blond hair out of his eyes. Something seems strangely familiar about him, but I'm not sure what. "My mother you see, left me a chest full of treasures when she passed away, but sadly no key." He lies, My eyes narrow, I know a liar when I see one. Living with the Crawdoves for centuries has taught me some things at least. But, the magic guides my hands. My obligation to do whatever Cynthia bids, (It had been her first wish) makes me grant his wish, if not the fact that he knows I am a genie, and has asked me to. 

 No tricks. I decide, I like this man. He make me feel safe in this demons nest that I've gotten into somehow, but I have no idea why. It's ridiculous that I feel like this. It's not like I'm allowed to leave the house at all, so there's no way I could know him. I'm not even supposed to leave my lamp until Cynthia calls me. My eyes take in his apparel again, it takes nerve to walk into Cynthia's tea parties dressed like that. My guess is that he won't make it into the next, no matter who he is. the real wonder is how he got here in the first place. 

Cynthia takes a step closer to him, and I can see it in her eyes, possessiveness. Of course, she favors him then. 

Instead of enchanting the picks so that they would never break, a form of failure in some peoples eyes, I decide to enchant them to unlock any lock, provided he has the skill. As well as fortifying the lock for against anyone else who uses them incorrectly. I did a similar enchantment on the lock of the box Cynthia holds my lamp in, except it only unlocks from the outside, and only for the key she holds about her neck.

With my hand on my lamp, the room goes silent. My fingers grow warm, and begin to glow slightly. The glow slowly spreads to the picks in my other hand, the magic channeling through my body and slowly bending to the command of my mind to enchant the picks. Its a beautiful process really, I can hear to servants all blowing the lights out on cue, and the small crowd gasps at the sight of my slightly glowing skin. The magic from my lamp connects with the magic I have in my blood, and I carefully bend it to my will.  

When I'm done, the candles are relighted, and once again, Cynthia steps in front of me as the crowd shows their awe by clapping their hands like excited seals. All except the man, whose eyes stay on me until I am ordered back in my lamp, and even then I feel his gaze as he watches the lamp till it is locked away, and the last of the guests have left.