Elaria staggered. Chaos worsened yearly.
A boy in the east wished to ride a dragon; another in the west wished all dragons gone forever. Both were granted. One dragon came, only to vanish the moment the other's wish countermanded it......unmade so violently that the mountains shook.
A woman in grief wished for time to reverse. For seven hours, the sun wavered backwards across heaven, children shrieked as they un-ate breakfasts, and farmers watched wheat vanish into soil. Then another wish, from someone desperate to undo confusion, reset the flow forward. Time hiccuped, snapping bones and memories alike.
Soon, wishes were treated with fear. Families debated what their children could or could not ask. Councils tried to forbid certain desires, but laws meant little on birthdays.
And through it all, Lyra kept watching the fireflies. Each year on her birthday, she repeated her wish, just to see them, to track their growth and decay. And on the night of her eighteenth, she gasped......for the sky was more tangled than ever. The fireflies no longer floated gently but collided violently, sparking explosions of broken light. Some winked out forever, leaving voids.
"Pip," she whispered, clutching her cat. "If this continues, there will be nothing left to wish for."
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