Nana's wish shop smelled of cinnamon and warm brass. It was Wren's first morning as keeper, and the wishes woke up grumpy. Little glass jars glowed dim on the shelves, half-done and muttering, rattling against the wood. On the counter lay Nana's open ledger. Three names were underlined twice. Below them, in Nana's loopy writing: 'Mend these before the wishes turn, or they'll run wild by nightfall.' Wren swallowed and read the first name.

The first name was Tomas Bell, the baker down the lane. His jar glowed faint orange and smelled of burnt bread. The note said he'd wished his loaves would 'never go cold.' Wren grabbed the jar and ran to the bakery, where smoke was pouring out of every window.

Inside, every loaf glowed red-hot and would not cool down. Tomas flapped a towel, his eyes wide. 'They keep getting hotter!' he cried. Wren saw how the wish had twisted: 'never cold' had become 'always burning.' She held up the jar and tried to think fast.

Wren panicked and shook the jar hard. The lid popped off and the orange glow burst out, racing into the oven. The flames flared bright blue, and the whole bakery began to shake. 'That was the wrong move!' Tomas shouted over the roar.

The orange glow slipped out the window and shot toward the other shops. Loaf after loaf in every kitchen caught fire with the same hungry heat. Wren had lost the wish, and now the whole lane was at risk. She sank down, knowing she had failed on her very first morning.