"My soul? How would you even get a hold of that?"

"Easy: like most mortals you never devoted yourself to any god or powerful Outsider, so it was just sitting in your corpse." She replied, "the last holder really did a number on it, the things so full of bitterness and spite you might just spit it out when you try to eat it."

"Eat it?" I looked at the pink crystal in apprehension.

"Are you busy going to repeat everything I say Tristan?" She put her hands on her hips and shook her head, "question number one, why are Outsiders here?"

I didn't really have an answer ready, but I did have a theory. Every Outside I'd met so far had one thing in common.

"To feed on mortals?"

"Bravo Tristan, so your brain isn't just a yes man with a bad Scottish accent after all!" She did a slow clap and laughed when I flipped her off. "To clarify, Outsiders always want something from mortals, be that as food, worshippers, Master's, and even friendship. But within every mortal exists something exceedingly valuable and rare in the planes, I'm speaking of course of the soul. Once when I was bored, I scoured the Outside for any other plane with this natural phenomena, after around twenty thousand years or so I ran low on Paths and had to face it: souls only exist here, and no matter what an Outsider is built to feed on, all of them can eat souls for a power boost."

"Okay, and I can tell from our earlier discussion on Paths that I gave my soul to Thasmius and that's why he died with it. But," I pointed at the magenta object, "why do you want me to eat it?"

She picked up the dull red crystal first, poking out with her claw as she held it up for me. Deep inside the crystal was a faint rust-colored spark.

"This is the soul of a rabbit I caught while I was out. You need to have a very specific affinity with a soul to devour it, that is why so many Outsiders became gods when they first arrived here. When someone worships you, their soul attunes to yours. Eat this."

She placed the crystal in my hand and looked at me expectantly. I had no idea how to go about eating a rock, at least at first. A part of my mind, a deeper, newer part; I associated it with my djinn form, gave me the instructions I needed.

I drew the spark out of the crystal, which dissolved in my hand. I then popped the spark into my mouth like a mint.

It tasted like rabbit. It tasted like everything a rabbit was, fear and anxiety, speed and agility.

My field of vision was wrong, I stood in front of a large blue predator with sharp fangs and glowing horns. I ran, but every time I got too far ahead my vision flickered and I swerved back into her path. I hid, but the same flicker revealed me every time. She has me now! I need to escape! I need to-

I blinked tears out of my eyes and looked at Hestia with a newfound respect. If I had Fate when I fought her, I'd never stand a chance. The soul didn't feel like it helped me at all, if anything I just felt sad and scared.

"That is what happens when you eat the wrong soul," she said solemnly, "now, eat yours. And this time, savor the desires.

I didn't answer, but anything had to be better than the hopeless fear the animal had left in my mind. The magenta crystal held a much larger spark, this one was more like a ball of hot pink magma than anything, just pleasantly warm to the touch. I had to slurp it down like a jello shot.

My mind exploded and my vision dissolved.

---

I sat up so fast I almost smacked my head on the bottom of my brother's bunk. I must have had a nightmare, but I don't remember it. A glance at the wall brought my mind back to speed however.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The room was melting, slowly but it was enough to remind me of what's real and what isn't. I heard voices in the living room so I walked out.

My dad walked right through me, to the couch where a mortal copy of me sat holding an open envelope with a college acceptance letter in it.

"Congrats son, you gonna finally get started on the psychology major?"

The mortal me beamed back at him, neither of us had been so happy in a long time.

The scene paused and voices continued on in the kitchen. Will patted my back as my past self clutched my head over a pool of my own vomit.

"What happened, Tris?" Will asked me, worry clear on his face.

"I don't know I just kind of blacked out," the old me replied, "guess I'm heading to the doc today."

"Need me to take you?"

"Nah I'll be alright."

The scene stopped here as well. Behind me, mortal Tristan walked out the door with a phone in his hand, I followed.

"Hey doc, so what's up? We figure out the migraines yet?" Old me chuckled while biting into an off-brand Otter Pop.

His smile suddenly fell, and I felt it all over again when he finally responded.

"Cancer?" Mortal Tristan stared down at the gravel driveway, his Popsicle forgotten.

Although I couldn't hear the doctor now, I'll never forget his words.

"I'm sorry Mr. MacLennan, it's inoperable. We can try chemo, but there's less than a one percent chance of it working. I'd hate to put you through that for no reason, you joked that you wanted a medical marijuana card, I've started the paperwork on that for what it's worth."

"How long?" Was all I'd said back.

"Probably about four or five months."

"Thank you doc, I'll come pick up that card tomorrow."

He hung up the phone, it was surreal to see my own face slack with hopeless despair. The old me slowly stood up, dumping the melted popsicle on the gravel before approaching the door. Laughter could be heard within; somehow, even with all the exercise Will had done, he could never beat Dad in an arm wrestling contest.

"No fair pops, let's go lefties!" Will cried out in false anger.

"What, you wanna stump wrestle?"

Even with tears streaming down his face, old me cracked a smile. It was then that I'd made my decision. I wouldn't tell them, not if it meant losing even one percent of this.

Mortal Tristan went through the door and when I followed I was somehow up in the attic, my past self happily organizing the space for the first time ever. I had known that if I didn't do it before the end, no one would. A humble bucket list item, but then I was too poor to do much else.

As I moved an old chest full of ancient clothing, a small ping echoed off the wood as a silver locket dropped out.

Old me picked it up and deep purple smoke flowed out, he dropped it just as Thasmius fully coalesced. He was shirtless and wore cuffed silk pants tucked into pointed boots, his gleaming gold bracers that I now knew were shackles shined bright

"Greetings mortal, I am Thasmius, the immortal genie, here to grant three of your heart's desires!"

The old me looked him up and down a few times before finally shrugging. There was no way anyone could afford the cost of pranking him like this, so he just went with it. The simplest answer is usually the correct one.

"Alright. How about this Thas, if you grant my first two wishes without any evil side effects I'll free you on the third."

"You are taking this… rather well Master. What is your heart's desire?"

Old me sat down on the chest and stared at his hands for a while. He eventually lit a pre-roll and inhaled deeply.

"That my head didn't hurt so much, that I had a girlfriend, that I had a real chance to be happy. But I have an inkling of how that'll turn out. So instead I wish that Dad was rich and happy."

"As you wish."

---

"Tristan?" Hestia called as I woke up. She'd put my head in her furred lap, it was soft.

"I'm ok," I replied, not getting up of course.

A strange, electric feeling zoomed and leaped around my body like pink lightning. A longing grew with every leap. I finally understood how djinn fed on desires, I just didn't expect to feed on my own.

"Hey Hestia?" I said from the comfort of her thighs.

"Yes?"

"Wanna go out sometime?"