Sevenfold

Tom's eyes burned with a fierce determination as he gripped the coin, the edges biting into his palm like the teeth of some ancient beast. The metal throbbed, growing warmer, pulsing in rhythm with the dark intent boiling inside him—as if it could sense the shape of his **** before he had even spoken it.

His breath came slow, deliberate, steadying himself against the weight of what he was about to unleash. The coin rose to his lips, trembling ever so slightly between his fingers. His voice, hoarse and raw, slipped into the still air, barely above a whisper, but carrying a gravity that made the room itself seem to shrink around him.

"I wish for Sarah to feel every agonizing moment, every pain, every humiliation she **** upon me... sevenfold."

The words hung like smoke, heavy and unmoving, before dissolving into silence—so absolute it felt unnatural. For an instant, the room froze, suspended in a void of sound and motion, as though the very universe had paused to weigh his command.

Then it came.

The air around him thickened, vibrating with a low, resonant hum, like the sound of distant thunder rolling through the bones of the earth. The coin seared hot against his skin, molten and alive, and Tom gritted his teeth as pain raced up his arm—but he didn’t let go. Outside the window, the wind howled, rattling the glass panes as though it, too, had been summoned to bear witness.

The light in the room dimmed, shadows pooling into corners and stretching like living things. For a heartbeat, Tom thought he heard a voice—faint, whispering, indistinct—something ancient and approving.

Then, silence again. The coin, still clutched in his hand, cooled, its heat retreating like the embers of a dying fire. But Tom knew the wish had been heard. Fulfilled.

Somewhere, Sarah would feel it. The weight of everything she had done—multiplied sevenfold—was already crawling toward her like an unstoppable storm.

Tom’s lips curled into a grim smile as he let the coin drop to the table with a metallic clink. The sound echoed longer than it should have, reverberating in the quiet room like the tolling of a distant bell.

“It’s your turn now,” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Tom’s gaze fell back to the coin, now lying still on the table, its surface dull and unassuming—an ordinary thing, yet thrumming with an extraordinary power. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, the aching stiffness of his joints a cruel reminder of his years, of the fragility Sarah had mocked.

But not for much longer.

His fingers closed around the coin, and as he lifted it once more, a fire began to kindle within him—a blaze fuelled by more than ****. This time, it was hope. Possibility.

Tom’s voice, steadier now, stronger, carried through the heavy silence.

"That Sarah asked for me to restore my prime, my youth and grant me peak physical fitness as an Employee _and _Her Husband”

The room shifted. The air thickened, pressing against him like a rising tide. The coin flared white-hot in his grip, a searing, living thing—but Tom didn’t let go. He welcomed it, relished it, even as the heat bled through his bones.

His breath caught as the change began. It was subtle at first—just a shiver crawling up his spine, the faintest tingling across his limbs—but then it erupted. His chest swelled with a rush of air, his lungs drinking it in like a man starved. The fire spread, licking through every tendon, every muscle, pulling them taut and strong. His back straightened, his shoulders rolling back with an ease that had been lost to him for decades.

Pain—the constant, gnawing ache that had been his unwanted companion—was gone.

Tom flexed his fingers, marvelling at the power coursing beneath his skin. The loose, veined flesh smoothed and tightened before his eyes, strength returning to hands that had once faltered. He stood, not slowly, not with struggle, but effortlessly, his movements fluid and full of life. The chair creaked behind him as though startled.

He turned to the tall mirror Sarah had once claimed for herself, half-expecting to see the old man staring back. But the reflection was different.

There he stood—tall, broad-shouldered, his muscles defined beneath skin firm and unblemished. His hair, thick and dark, framed a face sharper and more commanding than he remembered. A stranger and yet not. This was who he should have been, who he could have been if life’s merciless hand hadn’t chipped him away.

Tom stepped closer to the mirror, a slow, confident stride that echoed through the room. He stopped to look into his own eyes—no longer sunken or weary, but alive. Gleaming.

His lips curled into a smile, wide and wolfish.

Sarah had taken his pride and ground it under her heel. But now, he felt it restored, roaring back with every fibre of his being. The humiliation, the weakness—it was gone, burned away in the furnace of his transformation.

The man staring back was more than he had once been. Stronger. Sharper. Unbreakable.

Tom turned, his footsteps purposeful as he walked toward the door Sarah had vanished through. The coin sat cooling on the table, forgotten. He no longer needed it.

It was time to show her what a real reckoning looked like