There was a crackle-like a thunderclap swallowed into the walls.

  A burst of golden-blue light exploded outward from the genie's hands, arcing across the kitchen in waves that shimmered like heat off pavement. Plates rattled. The lights flickered. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.

  Then-

  It happened.

  One by one, the adults began to shrink.

  Grandma gasped as her back arched unnaturally, her arms drawing in, her robe swallowing her now-petite frame. Her silver hair darkened in seconds, curling tighter as her wrinkled hands smoothed into soft, youthful palms. Her voice cracked into something higher, less sure.

  Uncle Joe stumbled back, knocking over a chair. "Whoa-what the-?!"

  But his voice was already changing, climbing in pitch as his body caved inward like a balloon deflating. His beer belly vanished. His face smoothed, jaw rounded, and his dress shirt now hung off him like a robe.

  Even his shoes flopped to the ground with a slap as his feet no longer filled them.

  The mother screamed-but it came out of a child's mouth.

  Her eyes, filled with fury, darted around the room as her body shrunk beneath her blouse. Her fingers clawed at the kitchen counter for stability, but her arms were too short now, her sleeves sliding down to her elbows like a child in her mother's coat.

  Sarah, Lily, and her two older brothers shrank simultaneously, collapsing into themselves, clothes piling awkwardly around their transformed forms. Hair shortened. Limbs tightened. Eyeglasses slipped down undersized noses.

  Within seconds, the kitchen looked like a preschool after a very bad science experiment.

  But these weren't children.

  Not really.

  "Emily..." Grandma's voice rasped-but from a tiny mouth, now missing a few teeth. "W-What have you done?!"

  Her eyes were still sharp. Still aged. Still full of life experience. But her frame was no taller than Emily's now-maybe even shorter.

  Uncle Joe stared down at his hands in horror, lifting one leg and wobbling awkwardly. "Oh my God. I have knees again. My back doesn't hurt. But-but I can't drive! I can't reach the pedals like this!"

  Emily stood frozen, eyes wide.

  Her mother-now barely nine years old-stormed toward her, fists clenched and face flushed. "This is blasphemous!" she screamed, her tiny voice shrill with fury and panic. "You think this fixes anything?! You think this is power?! You have NO idea what you've just done!"

  Emily stumbled backward, her breath caught in her throat.

  The genie stood behind her, arms crossed, face unreadable.

  "I-I just wanted-" she stammered.

  Her mother took another step forward, barefoot now, drowning in the oversized collar of her own blouse. "Undo it. Undo it now."

  But Emily wasn't listening.

  She stared at the surreal, impossible scene in front of her. At the terrified, furious, confused children-all familiar faces, all filled with adult fury behind youthful eyes. Grandma's hands clenched into small fists. Uncle Joe looked like he was on the verge of tears. Her mother was trembling, her tiny jaw clenched.

  They were still them.

  But no longer above her.

  They didn't tower over her anymore. Didn't command the room. Couldn't corner her, scold her, shut her down.

  And for the first time, they all looked helpless.

  Something inside Emily shifted.

  That tangled knot of guilt... loosened. Not all the way. But enough to let something colder rise in its place. It curled around her heart like frostbite. It felt good.

  For once, she wasn't the one shrinking.

  She was the one in control.

  Her lips pressed into a flat, unreadable line as she took a slow step forward, watching the way they instinctively backed away-tiny feet stumbling across the tile, tripping on the oversized sleeves of their own clothes.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "They never listened," she murmured, voice low. "They never heard me. Even when I tried to be good."

  Her mother's childlike face twisted in fury. "You don't know what you've done."

  "No," Emily said quietly. "You don't."

  Anu leaned in, close enough to be felt but not seen. "Well, kid... now they're finally small enough to hear you."

  And Emily didn't disagree.

  She didn't say a word.

  The kitchen filled with silence.

  Not the kind that comes before things break.

  But the kind that settles in after-when something already has.

  The silence didn't last long.

  "Emily!" Sarah's voice cut through the air like glass. Sharp. Furious.

  Emily turned, startled-not by the voice, but by the sight. Her older sister, now no older than seven again, stomped forward with fury in her wide, teenage eyes. Her tiny fists were balled, her face red, her voice shrill with rage and betrayal.

  Emily barely budged from the shove, but her heart skipped. Not from guilt.

  From rage.

  She looked around the room-at her now-childlike family. They said nothing. Grandma. Uncle Joe. Her mother. Lily. Tom. Eric.

  All of them watching.

  None of them stopping Sarah.

  None of them defending her.

  They agreed with her.

  "Shut up," Emily snapped.

  Sarah didn't back down. "You don't deserve wishes. You don't deserve to be in charge. You're just a selfish little brat-"

  "I said shut up!"

  Sarah yelled louder. "You ruined everything! Grandpa's gone! You're evil! You're not even my sister anymore!"

  Emily's jaw clenched. Her fists shook.

  Then, without thinking-without meaning to-

  "I wish your mouth was sewn shut!"

  The moment the words left her lips, something in the air shifted.

  Sarah gasped.

  She reached for her face on instinct, but it was already too late.

  A glimmering thread, thin as hair and sharp as wire, sliced through the air and pierced the soft corner of her mouth. Her eyes went wide-panicked, pleading-as she let out a gasp that curdled into a wet, stifled shriek.

  Then the first stitch dragged through her flesh.

  Not fast.

  Slow.

  Like something savoring the pain.

  Her body jolted as it pierced the other side, yanking tight with a slick, wet sound. Blood spilled from the corners of her lips, dripping down her chin in thin red trails. Her hands flew to her mouth, shaking, trying to pull the thread out-but more were already coming.

  Another stab.

  Another pull.

  The thread glowed faintly, burning like fire as it passed through her skin again. The second stitch tore through the edge of her bottom lip, catching a nerve-her whole body convulsed as the pain shot through her skull like lightning.

  Her screams turned into muffled gurgles.

  Then a third stitch-then a fourth-each one slicing with surgical cruelty, embedding into the delicate skin of her mouth, pulling tighter and tighter until her lips began to swell and tear. Flesh puckered where the thread looped through. Blood soaked her hands as she clawed and scratched, desperate to rip it free.

  She fell to her knees, choking on her own sobs.

  The thread didn't stop.

  It wrapped her mouth like barbed wire, stitch after stitch sewing her lips shut with mechanical precision. Some threads punctured deeper, sewing not just the outer lips but the muscle beneath-leaving her jaw trembling, useless, locked.

  Her sobs became snorts.

  Then gasps.

  Then-

  No more name calling.

  The genie floated behind Emily, his face unreadable. He didn't intervene.

  No one did.

  Sarah dropped to her knees with muffled sobs.

  And still-no one spoke.

  Emily's breath was shaky, her fists trembling at her sides, but her eyes... they were dry. Focused.

  And cold.

  Everyone in the room just stared at Sarah-tiny, trembling, her mouth sealed by cruel, invisible thread.

  Then, all at once, they moved.

  "Sarah!" Lily screamed, rushing to her.

  Their mother fell to her knees beside her. "Oh my God-no, no, no..."

  Uncle Joe, still in the form of a gangly ten-year-old, helped cradle Sarah as she whimpered through sealed lips, her face wet with tears. Even Grandma, shaking and pale in her shrunken form, pushed through the others to place a trembling hand on Sarah's head, whispering comfort that Sarah couldn't hear.

  They surrounded her.

  Protected her.

  Held her.

  Emily stood a few feet away, breathing heavily, her fists clenched.

  Not one of them looked at her.

  Not one of them asked if she was okay. If she was scared. If she was sorry. If she needed help.

  It was always like this.

  They only cared when it hurt someone else. Never when it hurt her.

  Her jaw tightened.

  She turned and ran.

  Up the stairs, down the hall, into her room. She slammed the door so hard the walls trembled.

  She threw herself onto her bed, teeth gritted, heart thudding violently in her chest.

  She didn't cry.

  She wouldn't.

  But something inside her... twisted.

  A crack.

  A sting.

  A thin, uninvited thread of guilt slithered into her ribs.

  She curled tighter under her blanket, fists white-knuckled around the pillow.

  Did I go too far? she thought.

  She didn't want to think it.

  But she did.

  The room flickered with blue light.

  Anu stood at the edge of her bed, arms folded, floating slightly above the floor, calm as ever.

  "They all hate me," Emily whispered.

  Anu raised a brow. "You turned them into children and stitched your sister's mouth shut. They're confused. They're not thinking straight."

  Emily blinked up at him. "I didn't mean to hurt her that bad."

  He drifted closer. "Did you mean to be disrespected like that?"

  "I just wanted her to stop yelling at me."

  "Exactly," he said, settling at the foot of the bed. "You made her stop. That's power."

  Emily didn't speak.

  Anu tilted his head. "Let me tell you something about people, Emily. Morality is just a set of made-up rules. A story they tell each other so they can feel righteous when it benefits them. But the moment it doesn't? They change the story."

  She stared at him, unsure.

  "You're not evil for using what they feared. You're honest," Anu said. "They hide behind rules. You make things happen."

  "But she's my sister..."

  "She's just like them. She doesn't see you as family anymore. She doesn't care how they've ignored you or talked down to you or treated you like a problem. None of them do. Did they even look at you after it happened?"

  Emily's mouth stayed shut. Her heart thudded.

  "They're scared of you," Anu said softly. "And scared people only respect power. You have it. Use it. Or let them break you."

  Emily breathed in, long and slow. That crack of guilt inside her chest... sealed.

  Her fingers relaxed.

  Her jaw steadied.

  She nodded slowly, eyes distant. "You're right."

  A small smile tugged at the genie's lips.

  "I usually am."

  And the room fell silent again, except for the faint hum of power in the air around her.

  Emily rolled over, eyes wide open in the dark, staring at nothing.

  And for the first time that night...

  She smiled.