Elias stared back at her, his heart thudding in his throat, a pulse he could almost taste. The coat on his shoulders felt like it had been sewn from threads of guilt and fading dreams. Around them, the street hummed with life. A kid still watched, his gaze too intent. Across the road, someone raised a phone, capturing them in a snapshot of unasked-for attention.

  Riya’s grip tightened on his arm. “Walk.”

  They moved quickly, feet skimming the pavement with a disorienting weight, too light, too heavy, both at once. The coat swirled too perfectly around his legs, as if it had a mind of its own. Elias stumbled, his body out of sync with the world.

  Behind them, laughter—soft, distant—echoed, but it felt wrong. A tone that might have been mocking, or maybe it was nothing at all.

  Don’t look back.

  They ducked into the underground tunnel. Riya tapped her Myki, swift and sure, the practised movement of someone who belonged to this world. Elias followed, swiping his card too slowly, the edges of reality too sharp around him. He fumbled, caught somewhere between belonging and being lost. On the platform, Riya didn’t speak, her eyes darting over the crowd. Two teens in hoodies. A man with a scarf, his eyes glued to his phone. A woman muttering to the cold, tiled wall. The train screeched into view, its stale wind a slap to the face. They boarded, seeking the rear. Riya angled herself, subtly blocking Elias from the prying eyes of the others. Elias sat stiffly, the weight of his own presence suffocating him.

  The doors hissed shut, sealing them in.

  Elias’s voice was a whisper, breaking the silence between them. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Riya’s murmur was soft, but firm. “I know.”

  He swallowed, trying to ground himself. “I felt it. When you said it. The wish. It hit me... like a command, something I couldn’t fight.”

  Her jaw tightened. “You said you weren’t entirely human.”

  Elias nodded slowly. “I think this just proved it.”

  Riya’s fingers drummed on her knee, rhythmic, measured. Elias felt the tension coming off her, not fear, not quite, but focus. The kind of focus that warned of something worse waiting.

  Around them, the train groaned, the world outside swallowed by darkness.

  A flicker in the window. Their reflections stared back at them, two strangers caught in something far beyond either of their understanding.

  The train pulled into the next station. A man stepped on and glanced at Elias, then did a double-take. For a moment, Elias felt a cold jolt of panic. But the man merely shook his head, muttering to himself, and moved on.

  Another stop. Another pause. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them breathed easily.

  Finally, their station.

  Elias stepped off first — and nothing pulled him back. No tether snapped. No force rewound his stride. But as soon as Riya stepped off after him, something relaxed. As if the space around him had exhaled.

  They emerged from the train station and crossed the street in silence, the air thick with an uneasy heat. Elias adjusted his coat, immaculate, as though untouched by the humid weight clinging to the city. He avoided every glance, every reflection in the windows they passed.

  The tram screeched as it approached. They boarded, sliding into the closest empty seat. Riya tucked herself close to the window, her eyes scanning the streets outside. Elias sat beside her, arms folded tight across his chest, spine stiff against the seat.

  The silence was suffocating. Eyes tracked him, disinterested, randomly curious. A woman in a red jacket kept staring at him for two stops before glancing away. Someone’s phone clicked, or maybe it only sounded like it.

  Riya didn’t speak, but she could feel the locket pressing against her skin, pulsing faintly under her shirt. It wasn’t warm, but it was there like the static before a storm.

  Elias sat rigid, hardly breathing. His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper. “I feel like I’m wearing a lie.”

  She didn’t turn to him immediately, but her eyes flicked sideways. “What do you mean?”

  He hesitated, his gaze locked on the floor as if he could find the words there. “This body. This... presentation. It’s not just ‘make me blend in.’ It’s aspirational. Iconic, even. It’s what your wish thought I should be. But it’s not me. It’s what it thought I should be.”

  Riya let out a slow, measured breath, her brow furrowing. “You’re saying... I styled you.”

  He managed a tight, crooked smile. “Apparently, you’ve got taste.”

  They sat in silence for a few more stops. An older man further down the tram cleared his throat, glancing at Elias before turning away, as if reconsidering his impulse to speak.

  Elias shifted, unease settling in his chest. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

  Riya’s voice stayed low, flat. “Only if people saw it on camera. If it ends up online, I can try to get it pulled. Might help if you don’t go full runway next time someone calls you weird.”

  He laughed, a sound that came out jagged, but real.

  The tram pulled into their stop. They got off quickly, the quiet of the residential streets around Riya’s house giving a strange kind of relief.

  Inside, the door clicked shut behind them. The air felt calmer, finally letting them breathe. Elias exhaled hard, the breath rattling in his chest. Riya shrugged off her jacket and let it slump over the counter.

  Elias sat back, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. The silence between them felt different now, thicker, as if the world had shifted on its axis. Finally, he spoke, voice quiet and almost tentative. “I’m a genie, aren’t I?”

  Riya glanced over, eyes narrowing just slightly. “That’s what Camilla must have intended. A magical servant. A slave to the wishes of whoever holds the locket.”

  He exhaled, a soft, shaky breath, and looked down at his hands, as if expecting something to change or reveal itself. “So, I’m some... magical wish-maker. But I don’t even get a lamp. Just a locket. I don’t—” He trailed off, shaking his head. "This isn’t real."

  Riya didn’t answer immediately. She just looked at him, her expression unreadable. Then, quietly, almost absent-mindedly, she said, “It’s real. I dread to think what she planned to do with you.”

  Elias let the silence hang for a moment, trying to process it. The weight of the news they'd just uncovered felt heavier suddenly, like it was pulling at him in ways he didn’t understand. He swallowed and turned to Riya. “But then... You shot her.”

  Her gaze met his, calm but unflinching. “She was in the process of stabbing you. We just didn’t get there fast enough.”

  He frowned, processing the gravity of her words. “But she still managed to finish the ritual. Even after you...” He trailed off.

  Riya’s voice softened, but there was no hesitation. “Yeah. And maybe that’s why it passed to me.”

  Elias blinked, his mind struggling to keep up. “Because you were closest?”

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  She shook her head, eyes distant as she looked at the floor. “Because I was the one who killed her.”

  The words hung in the air, each one heavier than the last.

  Riya shifted, her hands twitching slightly, and then she spoke again, her voice almost uncertain. “I didn’t think about it until now. But if she was the anchor, the master, whatever you want to call it — and I ended her... maybe the binding chose me as the next best candidate.”

  Elias ran both hands through his hair, pacing a little. “I don’t know how these things work. But... that makes sense in a way that makes me sick.”

  He stopped, turning to face her again. “I’m sorry.”

  She frowned, confused. “For what?”

  “For you having to deal with this. With me.”

  Riya shrugged, taking a moment before answering. “I’ve seen worse house guests.”

  They shared a small, fleeting smile. The first hint of something lighter since the wish.

  Elias dropped back onto the couch with a groan, stretching out. “So. I’m some kind of bound entity. You’re stuck with an ancient leash. And I apparently grant wishes based on... what? Emotional context? Fashion sense?”

  Riya walked past him to the kitchen, grabbing two mugs without looking back. “Yeah,” she said, her voice dry. “Sounds like we’ve got some experimenting to do.”

  She paused, glancing back at him. “Just... nothing that’ll get us arrested.”

  “Maybe don’t make any more wishes in public,” Elias said it lightly, a joke—but there was no missing the warning in his voice.

  Riya leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her gaze distant as she processed the words.

  After a long beat, she looked at him, brow furrowed. “What about in private?”

  Elias met her eyes. Her tone wasn’t joking.

  She moved toward the pantry, pulled out a sealed packet of Tim Tams, and set it down with quiet finality between them on the bench.

  “I want to test something,” she said. “Something small. Nothing dramatic. I’m going to make a wish.”

  “Are you sure—?”

  “I’m a cop,” she replied flatly, unflinching. “If I can’t test unknown variables under controlled conditions, I’ve lost my edge.”

  Elias raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

  She stared at the packet for a moment, her expression calculating. Then, she took a steady breath.

  “I wish this packet of Tim Tams would never run out.”

  Elias rolled his eyes at her horrible cliché, but in the instant the words finished leaving her mouth, a rush of heat rose in his throat. His spine tingled, the strange hum of power in the air, not as unfamiliar now. His palms itched as though the world was resetting itself around them. There was no blinding flash, no gust of wind, but the shift was undeniable. Something shifted, clicked into place.

  He blinked, almost startled. “Done.”

  “That’s it?” she asked, voice tinged with disbelief.

  He nodded, still feeling the remnants of the energy buzz. “I didn’t even have to touch it this time. It... just knew.”

  Riya’s fingers brushed the wrapper, peeling it back effortlessly. She pulled out a Tim Tam, then another. She bit into the first one, crisp, chocolate, perfect. Then another, and another.

  Still full.

  She paused, the third one half-raised to her lips. “Okay, this is legitimately weird.”

  Elias paced behind her, brow furrowed. “Where are they coming from?”

  She shrugged, eyes narrowing as she looked at the packet. “You tell me.”

  “I didn’t conjure anything,” Elias murmured. “It’s like the packet’s just... obeying the wish. Like it’s continuously replenishing itself.”

  She grabbed another biscuit, inspecting it, then held it up between them. “So is this a copy? A loop? Is it stealing one from somewhere else every time I grab one?”

  They both stared at the packet, the air between them charged with quiet uncertainty. Neither of them spoke, but the weight of the moment was palpable. It was more than strange — it was unnatural.

  “I think we need to run a test,” Elias said, voice low, thoughtful. “Wish for something famous. Something unique. Something we can confirm wasn’t duplicated.”

  Riya narrowed her eyes, scepticism flaring. “Like the Mona Lisa?”

  Elias shrugged, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Sure. If it vanishes from the Louvre, we’ll know we’ve committed art theft.”

  Riya gave him a long, unamused look. “You’re enjoying this.”

  “I’m terrified,” he replied honestly, then paused. “But yeah. A little.”

  Riya sat down on the couch beside him, dropping the Tim Tam packet between them. It was still full, the last biscuit she’d taken already replaced with another.

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “This is getting way too easy.”

  Elias sat back, both unnerved and fascinated by what he had just done. “Yeah. And that’s the part that worries me.”

  “I’m not ready to go full Da Vinci theft,” Riya muttered, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Let’s watch the news tonight. See if any global dessert shortages get reported.”

  Elias gave a half-laugh, his mind still racing. “Riya, you’ve eaten maybe six biscuits. That wouldn’t register unless we were stealing from a display at Woollies.”

  She shrugged, the weight of the situation still settling on her. “Yeah, but what if every time we take one, it is being taken from Woollies?”

  He tilted his head, considering. “Or from… somewhere else. Parallel inventories. Supply chains that don’t know they’ve been tapped.”

  She shot him a look, eyebrow raised. “Okay, now you sound like a thief with an advanced philosophy degree.”

  Elias raised a hand, trying to explain. “No, I’m serious. This could be duplication, translocation, or something more abstract. You wished the packet never ran out — but the system fulfilling that could be any of those things. It’s not like I see an instruction manual.”

  Riya got to her feet, her pace slow as she thought about the weight of it all. “Well, I’m not exactly keen on waking up tomorrow and finding myself under arrest for confectionery larceny.”

  Elias leaned forward, elbows on his knees, brows knitted in focus. “So let’s test it. Something traceable. Unique.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You still want to steal the Mona Lisa?”

  He grinned faintly, the edges of the situation pulling him toward something darker and more thrilling. “Not literally. Just… we could wish for it, then check if the Louvre’s in chaos. If it is, we’ve got our answer.”

  Riya stared at him for a moment, then let out a short laugh. “That’s a hell of a test.”

  Elias nodded, a flicker of humour quickly dampened by the seriousness of the situation. “Alright, lower stakes. What about wishing for a rare coin? Or a one-of-a-kind object that’s on public display somewhere?”

  Riya scratched her head, thinking. “Okay. I’ve got a mate in the force who collects old banknotes. Maybe we could cross-reference something that’s supposed to be in a museum, then see if it vanishes?”

  Elias's expression brightened. “Even better — a newspaper. Wish for tomorrow’s front page.”

  She blinked, caught off guard. “That’s a bit sci-fi.”

  “But if we get it, it tells us something,” he explained, the excitement growing in his voice. “Either I’m pulling from the future, or from a draft someone hasn’t printed yet. Could be huge.”

  Riya gave a slow nod, intrigued despite herself. “Alright. I like where this is going. We catalogue every result. When the wish happens. What the item looks like. Whether it disappears from somewhere else.”

  Elias leaned back slightly, his thoughts racing. “If it ever existed at all. Because what if we’re not stealing? What if I’m just... willing these things into being?”

  The idea hung in the air between them, and the quiet stretched out longer than either of them was comfortable with.

  Riya finally sat again, her eyes drawn to the Tim Tam packet like it might offer some kind of answer. She stared at it, her mind clearly turning over the implications.

  “And if that’s true,” she said slowly, the words careful, as if testing them on her own tongue, “we’ll have to figure out whether you’re making these things out of thin air… or out of something else.”

  Elias’s gaze drifted down to his hands, the weight of her words settling over him. He felt something shift again — something deep and unsettling, like the very air was pulling away from him, leaving him standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable.

  The silence stretched again, but this time it felt heavier. The Tim Tams between them — still full — seemed to mock the simplicity of their new reality.

  The couch had grown quiet again, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them.

  Riya stared off into the distance, her thoughts clearly churning. She held a half-eaten Tim Tam in her hand, stuck halfway between bringing it to her mouth and setting it down on the armrest.

  Elias watched her, his skin still humming faintly, like a radio struggling to find the right frequency.

  “Okay,” Riya said, breaking the silence. Her voice was quieter now, but there was a certain weight to it. “Let’s stop guessing. I wish we had something that actually explained this — like a manual. A guide. Something we could read.”

  Elias inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his chest. Something inside him shifted.

  Not a compulsion. A calling.

  His hands moved before his thoughts caught up. He stood, crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, knelt beside the coffee table, and placed something down.

  Neither of them had seen it appear. It wasn’t there before, but now it was.

  A thin, ash-grey book, bound in soft matte leather that absorbed the light rather than reflecting it. No title. Just a symbol pressed into the cover: an open eye, surrounded by lines radiating outward — cracks, not sunbeams.

  Riya blinked, her gaze fixed on the book. “Did you... have that somewhere?”

  “No,” Elias replied, voice soft but certain. “That came from the wish.”

  Riya reached out, hands trembling slightly, and lifted the cover.

  The pages were impossibly crisp — ivory without the faintest trace of age. Each one covered edge to edge in fine, meticulous script, but in letters she didn’t recognise. Not English, not Cyrillic, or even the harder-to-place Asian glyphs. Nothing even remotely familiar. Her fingers tingled when she touched the page, like static crawling under her skin.

  “I can’t read it,” she murmured, her brow furrowing in confusion. “It’s just…”

  Then the words shifted.

  Not on the page — in her mind. The moment her eyes focused, meaning poured into her, not through translation, not through decoding. It was as though the ideas were being poured directly into her nervous system.

  She gasped, pulling back sharply.

  Elias leaned forward, his concern evident. “What happened?”

  “I—” Riya swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “It was like it knew I was reading it. I didn’t understand the words. I just... felt what they meant. Like I was remembering something I’d never learned.”

  Elias didn’t speak, but the tension in the room thickened.

  She opened the book again, this time slower, almost reverently. The page waited for her, like it knew exactly what she needed.

  She read.

  The Book of Bound Things