Morning arrived with the optimism of a city that had not yet accepted reality had changed. Streets bustled. Neighbors greeted each other. Birds attempted songs. Everything tried very hard to be normal.
It lasted seven minutes.
Aiden walked with groceries in mind and terror in his soul. Seris walked as professional disaster prevention. Liora came because this was absolutely one of those days where someone responsible needed to be nearby. Ardent followed like an amused cosmic teacher casually observing an unstable science experiment.
A smiling neighbor waved too warmly.
"Oh, you must be new! I just wish this street had more life sometimes!"
The universe liked enthusiasm.
Reality clicked.
Music detonated into existence. Color exploded. A spontaneous parade formed. Confetti manifested because the universe loved dramatic flair. A goat trotted past wearing a ribbon and absolute dignity.
Seris stared at Aiden.
Aiden raised his hands. "Not me!"
And it wasn't.
He hadn't felt the pull.
He hadn't felt the cost.
This wasn't his wish.
Someone else wanted it.
Reality obliged.
Unfortunately reality had terrible restraint.
Crowds swelled. Dancing intensified. Laundry participated without permission. Joy became structural damage. Guards rushed in because laws existed and someone needed to pretend control existed.
The air thickened.
Fear crept in.
And that—Aiden felt.
People didn't want this to become tragedy. People desperately wished for safety. That mattered. He inhaled, reached—not commanding, just guiding—and Balance allowed him. The sharp edges softened. Tension bled. Weapons lowered. Someone gently hugged the goat.
"See?" Seris muttered. "Stable. Calm. Briefly."
Then a child looked up with bright reverence.
"I wish I had the biggest ice cream in the world."
The universe absolutely loved children.
An enormous tower of ice cream appeared like a holy monument to sugar stupidity. Parents screamed. Children screamed. A dog achieved spiritual enlightenment. The whole thing leaned dangerously.
Aiden couldn't stop it. Not his wish. Not his right. But he nudged. Corrected. Stabilized.
The universe sighed and complied.
Spheres of perfectly portioned ice cream floated calmly and distributed themselves like benevolent dessert spirits.
Ardent applauded.
Liora laughed breathlessly.
Seris developed a headache and a deeper respect for alcohol.
Rumors immediately began breathing.
"That was not magic."
"That was definitely magic."
"No, that was different."
People whispered.
Hope flickered.
They continued walking.
A noble's carriage rolled by. Wealthy. Arrogant. Saturated in entitlement. He sneered.
"I wish these lesser streets knew their place."
The wish was ugly.
The universe considered cruelty.
Stone trembled.
Shadows leaned.
Privilege prepared its teeth.
Aiden stepped in—not to save the noble. To keep the world from becoming worse. He inserted friction. Balance reconsidered and chose pettiness.
The carriage hit a single impossibly placed rock. A wheel shattered. The noble sailed majestically into a puddle that did not previously exist. His hat floated away with dignified despair.
Someone laughed.
Then everyone tried not to.
A nearby child bowed to Aiden.
"Thank you, sir miracle."
"I didn't do that!" Aiden yelped.
He hadn't.
He only suggested reality be less cruel.
Reality chose comedy instead.
Word traveled.
Not loudly.
Softly.
People didn't say impossible anymore. They said "…maybe."
They made it almost home.
A tired woman dragged laundry across a line and muttered, "I wish this would dry already…"
The universe gave a polite nod.
Wind roared.
Everything dried instantly.
A sock slapped Seris' window in greeting.
Ardent nearly cried laughing.
Liora clutched her stomach.
Aiden apologized to existence.
Then something different happened.
A coughing neighbor leaned weakly against his doorway.
"I just… wish I wasn't sick anymore…"
The world didn't flash.
There was no spectacle.
No trumpets.
No cosmic fireworks.
Just a breath.
Gentle.
Careful.
Kind.
Pain eased.
Breathing softened.
Aiden steadied the wish so it wouldn't hurt anything else.
The man straightened slowly.
His wife cried into his shoulder.
He held her, stunned.
That story didn't spread loud.
It traveled in quiet awe.
In kitchens.
At bedside tables.
In soft nighttime whispers.
Faith didn't roar back to life.
It warmed.
People didn't laugh at wish stories anymore.
They paused.
Thought.
Considered.
Candles burned in a few windows that night. Not for gods. Not for priests. For possibility. For "maybe." For the memory of when wanting mattered.
"I heard miracles are back."
"Not miracles."
"Then what?"
"…something kinder."
People glanced toward Aiden's district more often.
They didn't pray.
They didn't beg.
They simply wanted.
And wanting meant power again.
The city shifted.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Gradually.
Gently.
Belief didn't return like lightning. It returned like sunrise.
Inside the house, Aiden slumped into a chair. Seris dropped into another. Liora leaned heavily against a wall. Ardent watched like someone watching the world wake up and finding it beautiful.
Aiden laughed tiredly.
"I hate this."
"You love this," Liora corrected, ruffling his hair like an affectionate older sibling.
"…I love this a little," he admitted.
Seris rubbed her face. "You are not allowed to exist near emotionally expressive people anymore."
He smiled.
He didn't belong.
He wasn't human.
He wasn't safe.
But people were smiling more.
People were daring to hope.
That was terrifying.
And wonderful.
Beyond the neighborhood, Desire giggled.
Balance leaned forward with interest.
The Universe hummed.
Because belief was waking up.
And when the world remembers how to want?
Everything changes.
Tomorrow was going to be louder.
He was ready.
Mostly.