Breglio and the Stolen Shadow Wish

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It began with a glass jar, unmoved by the wind. Breglio discovered it in the branches of a crooked willow tree, whose branches drooped to the ground like sleeping fingers. The jar was old, milky, and hung by a silken thread. But what it contained was far stranger than its location: A breath trembled inside—a barely visible shimmer, as if someone had whispered a thought into it that was never meant to be spoken. Breglio, the small imp with the soft fur and the always slightly sooty lantern, blinked. Then he scratched his ear, murmured a "Hmhm," more of a riddle than an agreement, and quickly climbed up the trunk. He carefully removed the jar, felt how it barely weighed—yet was heavy. "A wish," he murmured, "but... without a shadow." Wishes without a shadow were dangerous. For the shadow was what kept the wish on its path. Without it, he staggered, got stuck, never arrived. Some turned into nightmares, others into songs that never ended. He held the glass to the light of his lantern. The wish recoiled, like a shy animal. And Breglio sensed: someone had stolen the shadow. There were hardly any traces. Only a faint shimmer in the air that seemed to dance between the bushes, and the faint scent of lavender and burnt time. Breglio sniffed, then set off—with small steps, but with great seriousness. The trail led him through an abandoned garden whose flowers grew backward, then over a small bridge that was always one board short, and finally to a pond that belatedly reflected every observer. There was a sign there: Here begins the place where shadows whisper. Breglio nodded. Typical. He pulled a tiny needle from his pocket and pricked his finger. A drop of imp blood fell into the water – it rippled, turned dark, and opened a path underground. The passage that opened before him was not made of stone, but of old mirrors. Some were blind, others showed scenes that had never happened. One reflected Breglio himself – but in this version, he had no lantern. And no eyes. "That's rude," he grumbled and moved on. In the center of the hall, which finally opened, hung a kind of glass cage. Floating inside was a being – half mist, half light, with arms that danced like wisps of smoke. It spoke not with its mouth, but with the air between its words. "You seek what is no longer here." "I seek what belongs to someone who didn't want to lose it." "The shadow was too beautiful. I kept it." "Then give it back, or you'll dissolve yourself." The creature laughed. A sound like shattering porcelain. "What does a little imp know about loss?" Breglio stepped closer. He held up the glass. The wish within began to flicker, as if sensing the shadow. Breglio said nothing. Only his lantern shone brighter—and his gaze became sharper. "A wish without a shadow is like a ship without a keel. It drifts. And eventually, it will sink." The mirrors around them began to whisper. First quietly, then louder.