Isis

As you rifle through the box of goods left to you in your Uncle Stephen’s will, you feel a cool metal object. Pulling it out, you see that it’s an antique lamp. The brass surface is coated by a dark patina, but you think you can make out a faint etched pattern on the surface. You rub a small section with your thumb to clean off some of the tarnish. With a popping sound, a gout of pink smoke billows out of the mouth of the lamp. The smoke forms a swirling cloud in front of you then slowly fades, revealing a young woman dressed in revealing silks. She steps forward, placing a hand on your chest. “You’ve released me from my lamp. As my new master, your every wish is my command. How may I serve you, Master?”