A Simple Wish

Light made his way slowly down the wooden steps, each one creaking softly beneath his weight. 

As he descended, the aromas hit him: roasted chicken, rich spices, herbs, and something sweet he couldn’t quite identify. His stomach responded with a growl that surprised him. 

Did people get hungry in the afterlife?

The staircase opened into a large room dominated by a wooden table. A steaming bowl of what looked like a stew sat at one place setting, its savory scent drawing him forward. Light limped toward it, steadying himself against the wall.

The cottage was cozier than he expected. A fire crackled in a stone hearth, casting dancing shadows across the room. What caught his attention, though, were the artifacts. 

They hung from walls and rafters, each looking ancient and valuable. A sword with faint blue runes etched along its blade. 

A crystalline orb that seemed to contain swirling mist. A staff topped with what looked like a preserved eye that—unsettlingly—appeared to follow his movement.

Several of the objects emitted their own light. Soft blues, pulsing reds, and steady golden glows contributed as much to the room’s illumination as the fire itself.

A large wooden counter divided the space, running almost the entire width of the room. Behind it, shelves displayed smaller items—bottles filled with colorful liquids, pouches tied with different colored strings, and various trinkets Light couldn’t identify. 

The setup reminded him of a shop, though the cozy furniture and personal touches suggested someone lived here too.

Beyond the counter stood a doorway that appeared to lead to a kitchen. Light caught glimpses of movement—light blue hair falling in waves and the soft sound of humming barely noticeable beneath the insistent whistle of a teapot.

“Is anyone here?” Light called, his voice still rough and unfamiliar to his ears. He managed to lower himself into a chair at the table, wincing slightly as his new muscles protested.

“Ah… You’re finally awake,” answered the voice from the kitchen. The whistling stopped abruptly.

Moments later, a diminutive figure emerged. She wore dark robes that seemed to absorb the light around her, making her appear smaller than she already was. 

Golden glasses perched on her nose, behind which crimson eyes studied him with unnerving intensity. Her blue hair was gathered in neat waves that framed a face that seemed youthful yet carried an ancient feeling at the same time.

The woman carried a steaming mug, moving slowly but deliberately across the room. She placed it before Light, the ceramic clinking softly against the wooden table.

“You must be starving. Eat up,” she encouraged, gesturing toward the stew. “You must have been sealed for an eternity in that thing.”

She paused, pressing her lips together as if reconsidering her approach. “I apologize. I should start over properly.” She straightened her posture, folding her hands in front of her. “My name is Dr. Constance Luna. I am a simple magic caster and the one who unsealed you.”

Light couldn’t help himself. He began devouring the food, the rich flavors making him realize just how hungry he was. As he ate, the woman—Constance—kept throwing in odd comments between her explanations.

“As I was saying, Great One, I run this modest shop to get by.”

“The locals come to me for various magical items, Lord.”

Light paused mid-bite.

Lord? Great One? Hmm, am I some kind of royalty in this new world?

Light resumed filling his mouth with the savory stew.

The meat was tender and flavorful, with a delicious texture. It tasted somewhat like chicken, but with subtle differences he couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it was terrific. He scooped up another spoonful, savoring the blend of vegetables and broth.

Taking a break from the stew, Light lifted the mug and took a careful sip. The tea was light and refreshing, with a sweet fruity flavor with hints of mint that perfectly complemented the heartier taste of the stew. 

Whoever this woman was, she certainly knew her way around the kitchen.

If this place is the afterlife, then she must be God or something.

When he finally emptied the bowl, a silence fell over the room. Constance sat across from him, hands folded neatly on the table, watching him with those unsettling crimson eyes. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak first.

Light considered his situation. 

It’s probably best to be completely upfront that I’m from Earth. Maybe she can help me get back home. It’d probably be too much work to try and play hero in some fantasy world anyway.

He opened his mouth, preparing to explain his situation. 

“I'm—”

“I’m from another world,” Constance cut in, maintaining deep eye contact.

What the—Wait, that’s my line!

Light blinked in confusion. Was this some kind of joke? Was she reading his mind?

“The truth is, I am actually from another world, Great Lord,” she continued. “I’ve been stuck in this awful place for quite some time, transported here through no will of my own.”

She adjusted her golden glasses, leaning forward slightly. “In my home world, I am Chief of the Special Division of Sorcery Sciences. I must return immediately as my work is of utmost importance.”

Light watched her speak, increasingly puzzled. This woman had clearly lost her mind—or perhaps she had ended up here the same way he had. Maybe they were fellow victims of whatever weird joke had landed him in this strange place.

“I went through great trouble to unseal you,” she continued. “The man who sold me your weapon told me you were an ancient God sealed within, capable of granting a single wish.” Her eyes gleamed behind her glasses. “My wish is simple: I want to go home.”

Light’s throat still felt rough as he spoke. “Can I ask you one thing?”

“Of course,” she replied, nodding graciously.

“You keep saying you ‘unsealed’ me. Was I inside of something?”

A smirk spread across Constance’s face. “Yes. One moment.”

She raised her hand slowly, almost lazily, then snapped her fingers. A burst of light appeared before them, revealing what looked like a rusty, worn-out sword floating in midair.

“This,” she said, gesturing to the weapon, “is the Holy Armament, the Excalibur. I traded a great deal to acquire it, and I was told the blade was once wielded by the hero of the World and that a God named Light was sealed within, possessing the power to grant any wish.” 

Her expression hardened as she leaned forward. “That is you, is it not? You will grant my wish and send me home.”

Her entire demeanor had changed; the grandmotherly warmth had given way to something stern and demanding. The shift was jarring, like watching a mask slip away to reveal something entirely different underneath.

Light took another gulp of tea to fill the awkward silence. His mind raced.

Did someone set me up? I’m not a god!

Light suddenly felt nervous and a bit embarrassed under her intense gaze.

He considered his options. They seemed to be in similar situations—both transported from their original worlds. Surely, she would understand if he explained that this was all some misunderstanding, that he was just as lost as she was.

Honesty is probably the best policy… I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?

Light opened his mouth to respond. “See, here’s the thing—” He stopped himself mid-sentence, suddenly aware of his empty bowl. “Actually, could I have another helping of that stew first?”

“Of course,” Constance replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She took his bowl and headed toward the kitchen.

Alone for a moment, Light studied the blade still floating in midair. It was a strange weapon—thick and long but covered in rust. Small black and white veins pulsated with faint light along its surface. 

Despite its deteriorated state, the sword radiated a strange quality that Light couldn’t quite define. It seemed ancient, powerful, but well past its prime.

Did I really come from this thing?

Light lifted his hand toward the floating blade, curiosity drawing him forward.

Just before his fingers made contact—

“Here you are, dear.” Constance reappeared, setting another steaming bowl in front of him.

Light took a large spoonful of stew, using the moment to gather his thoughts. After swallowing, he looked directly at Constance and exhaled softly.

“Yes, my name is Light Creston.” He watched as Constance’s face brightened at this confirmation. “But here’s the thing. I’m from another world too, just like you. I’m not a god or anything. In fact, I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing here. Maybe we can work together and—”

He stopped talking as he noticed Constance’s expression. Her face had transformed completely. The grandmotherly warmth vanished, replaced by a blank yet serious look. Her crimson eyes had an almost dragon-like quality, narrowed and calculating. This woman was no normal human, not by a long shot.

“So then,” she uttered in a low voice, placing one hand palm-down on the table, her sharp red nails perfectly manicured against the wood, “you can’t grant my wish?”

Light maintained an upbeat tone despite his hoarse voice.

“No, nothing like that. I’m just a normal human as far as I know.”

An awkward silence fell over the room. Light tried avoiding eye contact as Constance stared at him with what seemed like bloodthirst behind her blank expression. To break the tension, he lifted another spoonful of stew to his mouth.

That was a mistake.

“No, no, that will not do,” Constance spoke in a flat monotone. She delicately lifted one finger from the table and tapped her nail twice on the wooden surface.

The spoon Light was raising suddenly stopped. Looking down, he watched in horror as the wooden table flowed like liquid, extending branches that seized his arm in midair. 

Before he could react, the chair and table sprouted more limbs, wrapping around his arms, legs, and torso, binding him firmly in place.

What the hell is happening?

Constance rose from her seat and began levitating, pacing through the air around the room.

“He tricked me,” she muttered, her robes wafting around her small frame. “I’ll kill him if I ever see him again.” She continued talking to herself, rambling about treasures and deception, anger radiating from her in almost visible waves.

Minutes passed with Constance circling the room in her fury. Eventually, she returned to the table, settling back into her chair. She closed her eyes, apparently lost in thought or formulating a plan.

“Hey,” Light called, but Constance ignored him, continuing to mutter incomprehensibly.

When she finally opened her eyes, they had a clarity that hadn’t been there before. “Ah, yes. That’s what I’ll do.”

“Hey! Hey lady!” Light tried again, struggling against his wooden prison.

Constance’s mouth curved into a smile. “Yes, that will work perfectly.” She nodded to herself, seemingly having developed an entire master plan without saying a word.

Her attention finally returned to Light.

“So... since I’ve got nothing to do with this, could you let me go?” he said.

“No,” Constance said with absolute confidence. “You work for me now. You’re going nowhere.” She picked up Light’s mug of tea and took a small sip. “You’re my property now, and you’re going to help me escape this world, child.”

She set the mug down with a decisive clink. “After all, I paid good money for that sword. And if there’s one thing I’ll never do, it’s accept a bad deal.”

Light stared at her, realizing with growing dread that this might be worse than death. He’d survived a car crash only to become the property of a maniac.

Welcome to the afterlife, I guess.