Inside the crystal

He sat cross-legged in the center of the room, a crystal resting in front of him.

After speaking the words, the crystal began floating at eye level. He said a name, and the crystal shifted, taking the shape of a person.

It was merely a container, but for a moment he could channel them into it. He called on them for advice, and they answered in a distant, metallic voice—

one that bounced and echoed inside the crystal form.

One night, when he called, something went wrong. Something in his drawings or the words he spoke must have been incorrect.

Instead of glowing a deep blue, the shape turned red. A dark cloud churned inside the crystal.

The voice that emerged was low, almost a growl. It spoke of the future—angry, barely contained—aware it would need his help to escape the crystal.

He was terrified but couldn’t show it. They fed on fear. He began asking for advice: three questions, and then the spell would end.

In the answers, he sensed another motive, a wrong turn disguised as guidance.

Still, the voice sounded clear. Convincing. He asked the second question.

The confusion grew, and though there was no face, he could feel the creature smiling.

Before he could ask the third question, the creature began a long, meaningless monologue. It was stalling.

Then he saw the arms move. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The hands split into individual fingers.

His fear surfaced, and it showed.

The creature lifted its arm toward him, crackling and crunching as the crystal shattered and reformed around it.

He couldn’t move. The ritual had to be completed—but he could still speak. He could feel the creature’s eyes on him through the crystal.

With a shaking voice, he managed to whisper a single word:
“Stop.”

A sharp crack echoed, and the hand froze inches from his face. The rage inside the crystal shook the room, knocking a picture from the wall.

Without thinking, he grabbed a rune drawing beside him and pressed it against the creature’s forehead.

The paper ignited, but the rune remained, carved into the crystal. Inside, the creature began to glow blue where the symbol burned.

The eyes felt different now. The anger twisted into despair. One final violent outburst rattled the walls—then the fury collapsed into a silent plea.

Without words, he understood. He looked at the hand that moments ago had nearly ended his life.

He took his time with the final question, letting the rune reshape the rage inside the crystal. It seemed painful—even reduced to light and smoke.

The last question received a true answer, with no wrong turns or hidden paths.

The room trembled one final time as the crystal solidified back into stone.

But as the silence returned, he felt it—the creature’s last look.

It would return.
And next time, it would be free.