In the city of Nixval, where magnetic rails floated above cobbled alleys and the clouds shimmered lilac from the magical energy suspended in the air, lived Kael.

Kael was an anthropomorphic fox with a lazy gaze, reddish fur, and a sharp mind usually wasted on internal complaints and passive sarcasm. He disliked strong emotions, noisy crowds, and—above all—unexpected tasks.

His life goal: survive each workday without anyone bothering him.

That morning, Kael was sleeping deeply. He was tangled in messy sheets, wearing his now infamous pink pajama covered in kawaii teddy bears. A tasteless gift, he thought, but terribly comfortable.

His desk was cluttered with urban magic books, mugs with dried coffee, and a limited-edition game controller that, for now, was safe.

The magical alarm started ringing with a mocking little voice:

—“Rise and shine, fuzzball! It’s Monday and time won’t wait for you!”

Kael didn’t answer. He just groaned.

—“Zzz… I hate existing…”

Finally, he opened his eyes. He had soft under-eye bags, messy hair, and an expression that screamed, “I want to die a little.”

He stretched. Yawned. Got up…

CRACK!

He stepped on the controller.

Silence.

He looked down. The controller’s pieces lay broken under his foot like a plastic corpse.

—“Shit!” —he shrieked.

He stood there for a few seconds, processing the tragedy. Then he sighed deeply and muttered:

—“Day one without will to live: it’s Monday again.”

After putting on his gray shirt, loose pants, and eternal dark blue scarf (because according to him, the cold is always in the soul), he left the apartment.

On the stairs, he ran into Mrs. Muri, an elderly ferret with charming whiskers.

—“Kael! There’s a public reading at the plaza today! They’ll recite dragon poetry!”

—“I’d rather be eaten by one,” —he replied without stopping.

The Central Archive of Nixval was an old, rectangular, and gloomy building, tucked between a floating café and a talisman shop. That’s where Kael worked as an archive assistant, which sounded fancier than it was. His job involved reviewing dusty books, organizing magical documents, and staying away from sealed objects.

He entered the lobby. Stale air and the metallic sound of E13, the reception golem, greeted him.

—“Good morning, Kael.”

—“It’s not good. It’s Monday.”

He walked to his desk. Before he could sit, a voice surprised him.

—“Kael!” —his boss shouted from down the hallway.

Kael flinched a little.

It was him. The archive director: Mr. Gravos, a badger with a deep voice, stern gaze, and a magical mustache that floated like it had a life of its own.

—“Come with me. We’ve got a field mission.”

Kael blinked. —“Excuse me?”

—“We’re going to the museum. They’re moving a private section into the archive and need a neutral evaluator.”

—“And I’m neutral?”

—“No. You’re cheap. Let’s go.”

The Museum of Magical Artifacts in Nixval was a mix between a medieval castle and a space station. Glass ceilings, living columns, and floating exhibits. Kael hated the place. It smelled like weird incense and hyperactive kids.

As they walked down the ancient art hall, Kael kept mentally complaining.

“Why didn’t they send Lior? Or Juna? I don’t even know how to catalog cursed art!”

The director led him to a sealed room. When it opened, the air shifted. Centuries-old dust danced in the enchanted light. In the center, on a pedestal covered with red cloth, stood a strange jar.

No label. Just ancient runes.

—“They want us to confirm whether this has historical value or is just cult decoration,” —Gravos said.

Kael eyed it skeptically.

—“And if it explodes?”

—“Then we’ll know it had value.”

Kael sighed. He approached the jar. Touched it.

And in that instant, the room trembled.

The cloth flew off. The jar glowed with an intense purple light. The runes activated.

Kael stepped back.

—“Oh no, oh no, oh no—!”

BOOOOM!

A cloud of purple smoke engulfed him. Laughter echoed against the walls.

—“FREE AT LAST!”

From the jar emerged a tall, floating figure with glowing eyes and a swirling cloak: a magical genie made of pure energy and way too much charisma.

—“WHO DARES DISTURB MY ANCIENT SLUMBER?!”

Kael raised a hand nervously.

—“That was me, but it was accidental. I was following orders. I can fill out an apology form.”

The genie studied him carefully… and then smiled.

—“Congratulations, pathetic fox! You have been chosen as the new bearer of the sacred burden!”

—“The what?”

—“You shall become the next great HÉ—!”

—“No! Stop right there!” —Kael interrupted firmly, raising a hand—. “Don’t say that word.”

—“He...?”

—“DON’T EVEN TRY!”

The genie blinked, confused.

—“But… that’s how dramatic curses work.”

Kael sighed.

—“Look, Mister Floating Smoke, I just came here to work. I don’t want adventures. I don’t want prophecies. I just want to go back to my chair, drink cold coffee, and keep filing stuff like the mediocre citizen I am.”

The genie blinked again.

—“And what if I told you that if you refuse, the jar will break and the world will be flooded with shadows?”

—“And what if I told you that sounds like a problem for someone with more motivation?”

—“Kael!” —his boss yelled from down the hall—. “What’s going on in there?!”

Kael looked at the genie.

The genie looked at him.

—“Can you go back into the jar for a bit? I promise I won’t touch anything this time.”

—“Mmm… no. Magical rules say you already activated the bond. You’re marked.”

Kael closed his eyes.

—“Day one as a cursed vessel for a genie: still a Monday.”