A Night to Misremember

“What skills can you offer our band?” Amal asked.

“A deep knowledge of the seven deserts,” she offered before modestly adding: “And I can… clean.”

“Yes, she is especially talented with a broom,” Fasir offered with a grin, earning himself a glare from the woman he loved.

And so it was that Nefera and Fasir joined Amal’s misfit caravan without any further questions about her past. The price the crystal had chosen for Nefera to pay was her ability to wield magic, a punishment many might have thought too lenient. But relearning how to do things by hand, and finding purpose outside of power, was quite literally like learning how to be human all over again.

Nefera and Fasir performed many wonders together, strengthened the spirit of benevolence across the seven deserts, and became the subject of many grand stories throughout the kingdoms. They loved as destiny designed, grayed as time intended, and eventually parted as fate demands. Though they lived to be well over a thousand years old, the seven decades they spent together were the most cherished, most blessed years of all.

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The smell of calla lilies drifted across him in the morning air, a pleasant but not inexpensive smell that had to be imported from another land. His eyes opened to a tall marble ceiling, rich tapestries flung across it and restrained with golden cord. Someone stirred slightly beside him. He turned his head to see her, impossibly beautiful, though she slept open-mouthed, and her mussed hair clung ungracefully to her pillow. Aladdin smiled at his beloved wife, reaching his arms towards her, pulling her close, and drifted contentedly back to sleep.

There would be a lot of explaining to do, and a lot of fires to put out now that the world‘s memories have returned, particularly with a jilted neighboring prince who expected a royal wedding last week but was humiliated on a desert island instead. And in time, all would be resolved. But the royal couple had a week’s worth of forgotten love (and rest) to make up for.

And in another time, far, far in the future, they’ll climb onto their magic carpet and fly off, never to return.

But until then, they’ve got a life worth living.

A story worth telling.

And a love worth remembering.

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Chapter Masterlist

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Roll Credits: We Could Be In Love, Lea Salonga & Brad Kane (Al & Jas’s singing voices!)

Thank you to all who took the time to read my story! A special thanks to those who left comments and/or kudos <3

I haven’t written a fic since I was a teenager in the 2000’s, and doing this really meant a lot to me and kept me sane in the early months of PPD. What started out as a humble little outline, just to get some ideas on the page and exercise my creative-writing muscles, ended up turning into a big wonderful adventure!

Thank you to the creators of Disney’s Aladdin! Your work has changed my life!

Thank you to my friends at AladdinCentral for your feedback and constant nerdy companionship!

Thank you to my husband, who encouraged my writing every night!

And thank you to my friends & family who don’t care about Aladdin, but care enough about me to let me gush about the story I’ve been so excited about :)

Bonus! Deleted Scene ideas I had:

Indima is a millenigenarian (which I realized too late is etymologically incorrect, sorry!) and is the mother of the boy who Fasir saved from the fire. And even after a thousand years, she still lets him stay at her inn for free out of gratitude. I still consider this to be canon in my fic, but I didn’t see anywhere to put it without it just padding the runtime.

During the festival, Aladdin out-juggles the town juggler. Genie joins a fire-eater’s routine, and breathes fire onto a bunch of marshmallows, creating smores for the local kids. I cut the scene because I needed them to beat Mirage to the temple :P

I actually originally had Tamil die during the campfire scene. But I decided just to reveal that he was sick instead. Amal and that whole gang really would make a fun series on their own, don’t you think?

For all of like 2 seconds, I thought it would be interesting to have Jasmine realize she is pregnant and have no memory of how on earth that could happen. But I thought that would be way too much. And too soap opera-y!

My earliest draft had one kiss instead of two. There was an almost-kiss on the rooftop after the festival (instead of an actual kiss), which was interrupted by midnight. And as Fasir weakened during the final battle, Aladdin and Jasmine’s memory came and went frenetically from moment to moment, but they pushed through it to reach each other, and when they finally kissed, it was both amnesic versions kissing each other. It was pretty cinematic, but hard to choreograph and kinda cheapened their character arcs, so it got scrapped.

The purple flashes. I didn’t do as much with those as I originally planned. Like I originally had things popping out of them, and I was going to explain why they sometimes do and don’t appear. But I never did. Oh well! Thanks for suspending your disbelief haha

Smut. Haha! I thought about adding smut. But I decided this wasn’t that kind of fic. If there’s demand for it, maybe I’ll make a smutty sequel or AU :P 

Jasmine and Fasir could tell they were getting close when Carpet’s mad dash started to slow and wobble. Jasmine strengthened her grip on the feeble Fasir, trying not to look down, as Carpet struggled to stay aloft. Soon, the clouds parted, and she could see it - Fashoom’s castle in the sky - a sight that would normally inspire awe in the sheltered princess, were it not for the looming threat of falling out of the air.

“You can do this, Carpet!” Jasmine encouraged him, her desperation to make it to Aladdin mingling dangerously with her desperation to not fall to her death. “We’re almost there.”

Carpet urged himself on, steeling himself with determination, though the proximity of the mask threatened to slowly turn him into a common prayer rug.

Closer, closer they flew. They were just seconds away from missing the landing port when a sudden, godsent gust lifted them just high enough to make it. With his last burst of energy, Carpet bucked Jasmine and Fasir gracelessly upwards, throwing them onto the entrance of the courtyard. Jasmine recovered quickly and retrieved Fasir’s walking stick before helping him to his feet. He immediately started to fall, but she caught him, reaching around to steady him.

“Go,” was the only word he could manage. Jasmine looked at him, unsure she could bring herself to leave him when he was so fragile. She looked back at Carpet, lying motionless on the stairs. Carpet managed a slight, feeble wave of encouragement.

“Go,” Fasir repeated. Jasmine slowly let go of him, and he shifted his weight onto his walking stick, using both hands to steady himself without her assistance. Jasmine gave him a slight nod before turning to the doors. She balled her fists and marched up to them, slamming them open with a commanding boom.

“Jasmine!” she instantly heard Aladdin’s voice call her name. She followed its echo to see him - his back forced against a pillar on the side of the hall, his wrists bound over his head by a rope that wrapped around the pillar. He struggled against it, but the rope held like steel. A steady stream of blue fire shot from a crystal across the way, slicing slowly through the pillar and what remained of the wall behind it, threatening Aladdin’s abdomen.

Without thought or hesitation, Jasmine ran to pick up Aladdin’s sword, which lay on the ground just a few meters in front of her, and sprinted towards him, dodging purple flashes in her way, sword held high.

“No!” a woman’s voice called, and suddenly an invisible force clashed against her. Jasmine’s body froze mid-run, defying both gravity and her iron will to make it to Aladdin. Her heart still beat, and air moved in and out of her lungs, but it was as if all other muscles turned to stone. Even her long, unbound hair remained frozen in its dramatically splayed position. She knew at once it must have been Mirage’s doing.

“Let her go, Mirage,” Aladdin demanded, as if he had any leverage in the situation. “Your quarrel is with me.”

No. Keep holding the princess, the voice delightedly spoke to only Mirage as she held the princess still with her raised hand. Let her watch the one she loves get sliced in half before her.

“The one she–” Mirage looked between Aladdin and the princess, their eyes locked longingly on each other. “It can’t be,” Mirage whispered, a deep discomfort starting within her. Her attention was interrupted as she picked up movement from the corner of her gaze, where another figure slowly moved through the open doors.

What’s that insolent seer doing here!

Fasir took two steps into the room, leaning heavily on his stick, before stumbling to his knees.

The sight of it squeezed at Mirage’s throat. He was using the last drops of his life force to hold the spell. He still believed they could break it.

Oh, how absolutely delicious. Your most hated nemeses. One dead, and the rest completely at your mercy. We couldn’t have dreamed up a more satisfying victory.

“This isn’t satisfying,” Mirage moaned with irritation, her eyes still set on the ailing seer. “Honestly! The level of your denial is so exhausting! It’s clear as day. You just said it yourself: she loves him... I’ve lost.”

Semantics. You’ve only lost if she kisses him.

“If I drop my hand, she will kiss him,” Mirage retorted. “At this point I’m just cheating.”

The voice spat, Since when in a thousand years did you care about playing fair?

The laser was just starting to singe the fabric at Aladdin’s waist. Aladdin looked nervously down at his browning shirt, feeling the heat as the blue fire neared his flesh, a panicked sweat starting to seep from his brow.

Mirage still stood, hand upheld. She could feel that the bracelet had more than enough magic in it to suspend Jasmine in midair for several more minutes, more than enough time to watch the hero die a slow and agonizing death. Mirage had seen gruesome scenes like this to completion before, and each one had thrilled her.

This one should carry that extra delight. Because this time, it was personal.

“Ah!” Aladdin let out a small yelp as the heat reached his skin. He sucked in as much as he could, buying himself a few more precious moments before the beginning of the end.

The moment fell flat to Mirage. No thrill when he called out in pain. No rush at the sight of his terror-stricken face, his trembling body, his veins bulging with the fear of his impending doom. There was no pleasure at the frozen princess, a tear falling as she tried with every ounce of strength to break towards him. In the usual place of sadistic ecstacy, a different feeling started to churn within Mirage - a feeling like she was going to be sick.

Mirage looked back to Fasir, still on his knees with no strength to interfere. Not even the energy to persuade her to have mercy on the young lovers.

So why was he here?

“I’d be there… So you won’t be alone.”

The memory of his words, along with the physical embodiment of their fulfillment, struck against everything else colliding inside of Mirage. He was there, sacrificing what could have been peaceful last moments, to honor his promise to her. She felt a pressure behind her eyes that she hadn’t felt in over a thousand years, and she fought it with every sinew within her until the tension of it exploded out of her. With an enraged cry, she released her hold on the princess.

No!!! The voice hissed as Jasmine fell to the ground. As quickly as she fell, she got up again, sword in hand, and ran furiously to Aladdin, slicing the rope that held him in one smooth motion. Without further thought, she tossed the sword on the ground, grabbed him by his shirt, and, without a care for anything else in the world, yanked him away from the laser and into a desperate kiss. Aladdin raised his newly freed arms in surprise for just a moment before throwing them around her, one hand weaving through her charcoal hair, and the other pulling her closer against him as he dipped her slightly. His heart picked right back up from where it fell the night before, his desire meeting hers in the embrace.

“I love you,” Jasmine spoke breathily, kissing him again as a gust of golden magic whipped around them. Jasmine’s memories rushed back into her, their settings surrounding her as if she were physically reliving each one in warp speed. The rescue in the marketplace. The almost-kiss in his hovel. The thrill of their first flight and their lips finally meeting in the moonlight. Years of learning each other’s dreams, of challenging and learning from each other. Memories of a love growing from a whirlwind romance into an unbreakable force, a bulwark and a boon. The candlelit kiss at the altar that sealed their eternal promise, and the touches that sealed their claim on each other in the night. Sunkissed mornings of waking up in total contentment. And a journey into the desert through which they fell in love all over again.

Mirage watched, frozen, as they embraced, the magic of the broken spell swirling wonderfully around them like a gust of gilded wind. Another deep unsettling discomfort twisted inside of her. But it wasn’t the usual revulsion that fueled her eschewment of love. It was a different sensation. An ancient feeling. One she hadn’t tasted in quite some time. Like the feeling of everything she had ever wanted being dangled in front of her, but no matter how fast she ran or how far she reached, it never got any closer.

When the furor of the breaking spell ebbed, Aladdin gazed lovingly at his bride, brushing a thumb across her tear-striped cheek.

Mirage turned to face Fasir, who was stumbling backwards, trying to find his balance against the wall. A second later, Aladdin and Jasmine were running to his side, slinging his arms around their necks to support him.

The spell was broken, and the purple flashes had stopped. The hall was unnervingly quiet. Mirage looked at the mask in her hand. She had more than enough magic in the bracelet to simply leave with it, abandoning Fasir to a fate he willingly brought upon himself. She would find a new hiding place for the mask. She could even use some of the magic in the bracelet to collapse the castle. A swift end to all four heroes, and insurance that she wouldn’t be followed.

Yes. A fresh start, the voice agreed with the idea.

Another voice echoed against the voice of evil in her ear. It was Genie’s from earlier: “another thousand years of Mirage.” Her eyes drifted to Mamoura’s bracelet on her wrist, flecked with the priestess’s blood. A millennium of vitriol ended by her own obsessed hand.

She doesn’t deserve your pity. She abandoned you just like everyone else in your life.

Mirage snapped her head back to Fasir. Aladdin and Jasmine were gently lowering him to the ground.

“No,” Mirage whispered. “He never did.”

The voice hissed. He’s been nothing but a thorn in your side for a thousand years.

“No,” Mirage protested, that pressure at the corners of her eyes returning with the force of a hundred battering rams. “He’s been by my side for a thousand years.”

Thwarting every plan, every dream he could? You call that ‘loyalty?’

Mirage let out a slight laugh - slight, but loaded with a deep sadness. “He could have done much worse.” Her next words were a spell - one she hadn’t used in over a thousand years. And a moment later, she saw it. The golden thread between them, coursing like a glittering brook of yellow stardust. No less strong than it had been that day at the fountain, and no less beautiful. If Fasir saw it too, she couldn’t be sure, as he reclined motionlessly between the heroes.

Aladdin saw Mirage’s hands and eyeline directed at Fasir and stood up defensively, ready to protect the dying seer. Jasmine’s eyes snapped up to him, and for a second, Mirage saw herself in her. What she could have been.

“We could have been so much together,” Mirage cried out to Fasir, her voice gravelly with turmoil. The golden thread began to flicker, a sign that his life force was faltering. She let go of the spell and pulled the flower from her cloak. “I asked for the world. And you were trying to give it to me! And I chose power instead! For what?!!” she roared. Aladdin’s eyes darted towards his sword, lying a short sprint away. “What has it brought me, compared to what I lost?!” Her voice dropped, choking slightly as her eyes widened with the gravity of her words. “And how many had to pay for it?”

Fasir lifted his head slightly and breathed one last word: “Nefera.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mirage whispered back, pain coloring her voice. Aladdin flinched as Mirage made a sudden move, but it wasn’t what he expected, as she suddenly and forcefully thrust the mask into the laser that still streamed beside her.

NO!!! The voice screamed a long, gargling, protest. The hall filled with violent, swirling wind as red, powdery magic flung out of the mask and out of Mirage’s body. Her neck snapped up to face the ceiling, her mouth forced open, as the life force that possessed her a millennium ago exited her as forcefully as it had entered that day in Chadarun. She felt as if her blood was draining from her, as if her skin was shrinking in to meet her bones, an impossible coldness rushing through and out of her, only to then be replaced by the heat of a thousand suns coursing up and out of her. The wind took on the voice of a howling banshee and sucked the air from her lungs. She closed her eyes and fell to her knees, pressing her forehead into the cold stone floor, accepting what must be her death.

Aladdin took the moment to run to Abu, scooping the still-bound monkey up and shielding him from the squall as the cacophony of Mirage’s act still swirled through the room.

A moment later, the wind began to die down, and a modest surge of energy returned to her. She hesitantly pushed herself onto her hands, opening her eyes to see… Skin. Human skin. She flipped her hands over again, then snapped her head back at the crystal. The woman reflecting back at her through the tumult was human - youthful and beautiful, with gold beads gilding her black dreads.

Suddenly, a blinding light shot from the crystal, past her nose, and directly at Fasir’s chest.

“No!” Nefera called out, tossing the bracelet to the ground and running to Fasir, who glowed so brilliantly that his features were completely obscured. She threw herself upon his lifeless form, buried her face into his chest, and wept as the magic faded. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She chanted it over and over, echoing through the otherwise silent hall.

Suddenly, Nefera felt movement beneath her. “You can stop with the apologies already,” Fasir raspily breathed out. Then, with a slight laugh: “You can only be so forgiven.”

Nefera snapped back up at the sign of life, followed by a surprised yelp. It was Fasir. But the Fasir from her youth, with his long black mane, a tan glow to his skin, and a youthful strength in his shoulders.

“How–” Nefera whispered.

Jasmine, who still held one of Fasir’s hands, looked up at the approaching Aladdin, who gave her a wide-eyed shrug.

“The crystal,” Fasir spoke, energy returning to him with every word, “has the power to–”

“– undo what has been done,” Aladdin said with him, starting to pick up some of the pieces of what just transpired.

Fasir raised a hand, and the magical bindings around Abu disappeared, leaving him free to scurry up to the safety of the top of Aladdin’s head. Fasir turned back to Nefera. “Your act of love released your essence from the mask.”

“Sparing me from its destruction,” she finished bewilderingly.

Just then, Genie and Carpet burst through the door, their magical powers restored. “Sorry I was gone so long!” Genie announced. “You do NOT want to know where that purple portal spat me out!” Genie shivered. “Let’s just say I will NEVER look at a three-headed fire-breathing tap-dancing ostrich the same ever again!” He paused suddenly, to take in the tableau before him - the castle in shambles, the laser jutting across the hall, a blindfolded young man, a mysterious young woman embracing him, Jasmine on the floor beside them, and Aladdin standing awkwardly by with a monkey in his hair. “Uhh… What did I miss? Where’s Mirage?”

“Mirage is no more,” Fasir answered. He rose to his feet, the woman who loved him rising with him. “Nefera has defeated her.”

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Back on earth, a cool breeze blew through the desert, whispering to all who had forgotten: the tale of the peasant boy who saved a kingdom and freed a Genie, and a princess who escaped her fate and dared to love a thief. For the breeze didn’t just carry relief from the scorching midday sun, but the memory of the greatest Arabian Night ever told.

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THE END

Epilogue

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“Uh, Al?” Genie interrupted the silence with a backwards point of his thumb. “Those purple flashes are back.”

Aladdin looked Genie’s way and didn’t see anything at first, but then, sure enough, a purple flash flared at the other end of the hall. “They’re portals, Genie. Harmless as long as you don’t run into one,” he said to reassure Genie, but also himself. It was quiet, and worrying about anything but the task at hand wouldn’t serve them. After all, those flashes are why he and Jasmine survived the heist.

Aladdin drew the mask from his cloak and looked again at the sky through the hole in the roof, at the sun inching forward, almost at the zenith. Genie moved towards him in solidarity, placing a hand on his shoulder. Aladdin exhaled. “I guess now we just wait.”

“Waiting for me?” a voice purred from the entrance of the hall.

“Mirage!” Aladdin whirled around, fists clenched in recognition.

“I’ve come for the mask,” Mirage stated plainly. She donned a deep crimson cloak that complemented her usual garb. “Destroying it won’t make your princess love you again.”

“But it will stop the evil that cursed her in the first place!” Aladdin retorted before easing back into his usual effortless demeanor. “Besides, you’re outnumbered. With your limited magic, it’s basically hand-to-hand combat. 3 against 1.”

“I only count two,” Mirage counted with a pointed finger: Aladdin, then Genie.

Aladdin crossed his arms playfully. “Don’t underestimate Abu!”

“You’re counting the monkey in this equation?” Mirage rolled her eyes, then paused. With a suspicious squint, she asked, “Where is your little flea-bitten rascal anyway?”

In response, Abu appeared as if out of nowhere and scurried up to Aladdin’s shoulder, holding an old bronze relic. Mirage’s eyes widened in recognition and furiously grabbed at the inside of her robe for the missing artifact.

“oOoOo,” Genie examined Abu’s plunder. “Nunchuck manacles! Neat find, Abu!”

“Like I said,” Aladdin teased Mirage, “not to be underestimated.”

“It’s no matter,” Mirage forced away her scowl and replaced it with a nonchalant sigh. “I actually came here hoping we could strike a deal.”

“We don’t make deals with evil incarnate!” Genie protested.

“You give me the mask,” Mirage continued, ignoring the interruption, “and I release the spell on your princess.”

Aladdin froze, his confident demeanor instantly liquifying at her words,  the agony of the goodbye by the river suddenly returning, bubbling up into his throat. He could make that pain go away. He could stop feeling like a part of him was physically torn from his flesh. She could be there with him again.

Genie looked over at the heartbroken Aladdin, waiting for him to speak, but he made no movement, not even a breath. Genie gently moved closer to his friend. “Al,” he spoke softly. “I know how much this means to you. But we’ve come so far. You give her that mask, and everything we - including Jasmine - went through to get to this point will have been for nothing. You have the chance to save the world from another thousand years of Mirage.”

Aladdin stood, still unmoving, his friend’s words sinking in, mingling with his pain and the temptation that offered to soothe it.

“No,” he finally breathed and raised his head to face Mirage. “Genie’s right. I owe this to her,” he continued, his voice growing as his conviction strengthened, “and to Fasir. And everyone else whose dreams you’ve destroyed. I’m going to put an end to this once and for all!” Aladdin looked up at the sun, nearly at its apex, and moved slightly closer to the crystal, drawing the mask from his robe.

“The mask is mine!” another voice boomed into the hall.

Aladdin, Genie, and Abu snapped their heads towards the newcomer and saw an old woman in religious garb, mangled scars disfiguring the skin of her neck, floating high above them like a ghost in the middle of the hall.

“Mamoura!” Mirage exclaimed. “What are you–” A flash of lightning shot from Mamoura’s wrist, throwing Mirage to the ground.

Genie beamed, “Woah! Nice shot, mystery wo–”

“The mask,” Mamoura demanded, stoic and unfeeling.

“Who are you?” Aladdin asked.

“This is Mamoura.” Mirage winced as she slowly brought herself back to her feet. “She raised me.”

“Ah,” Genie replied. “She missed a spot.”

“I’ve got this under control,” Aladdin called firmly to Mamoura, appealing to their apparently shared animosity towards Mirage.

“You and I want the same thing, boy,” Mamoura pointed. “To destroy Mirage.”

“Then you won’t have a problem with me destroying the mask myself!” Aladdin furrowed his brow.

Mamoura screeched, shooting a lightning bolt at Aladdin.

“Woah!” Aladdin leapt out of the way, maintaining his hold on the mask.

“Yikes!” Genie exclaimed nervously. “The bad apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree!”

“I don’t understand!” Aladdin called out, leaping out of the way of another assault.

Mirage stood still, her arms crossed, perfectly content to let her nemeses eliminate each other. But Mamoura’s reasoning for attacking Aladdin made little sense to her as well. Was it that important to Mamoura that she be the one to destroy her?

Aladdin evaded one more shot and turned to whisper to Abu, who clung to him with trepidation, “We just need to dodge her attacks long enough for the crystal to activate.” Abu nodded before shrieking again as Mamoura threw another bolt at them, but it was swallowed by a purple flash.

“Hopefully that didn’t go anywhere important!” Genie grimaced.

Aladdin dodged her next bolt. “How is she so powerful? It’s like the mask doesn’t affect her at all!”

Mirage glanced closer at her deranged mother figure and noticed a loose-fitting silver cuff on her wrist with one large oval-cut gem in the center. Inside the gem swirled an electric blue mist. “The bracelet!” Mirage exclaimed to herself, then turned her gaze upon Mamoura’s face. It was so unlike the calm, calculating priestess who had raised her. She had grown into someone - something - else since that night at the temple. And she was drunk on power that didn’t belong to her. That look in her eyes - that hunger - she knew it all too well.

“How many of your mages did you need to betray to collect all of that magic?” Mirage growled with gritted teeth. “Or do you have them so whipped that they gave it to you willingly?”

Mamoura ignored the question and shot another bolt at Aladdin. But this one pursued him, easily catching him and closing around his waist like a great electric fist. The force of its grip jerked Abu off of Aladdin’s shoulder and swiftly pulled the hero up towards the levitating priestess. Aladdin struggled against it, but its grip was too strong.

“Genie!” Aladdin tossed the mask to Genie, who dove to catch it, only to be tackled by Mirage before landing. Genie lost his grip on the mask, and Abu ran for it. Mamoura tossed Aladdin aside like a broken toy and redirected her magic at Abu. The second it gripped him, he tossed the mask indiscriminately into the air. Genie ran for it but, just before he got to it, a purple flash opened before him and swallowed him whole.

“Genie!” Aladdin hollered from the ground as his friend disappeared into thin air. Then, suddenly, a blinding glare flashed through the room. As one, everyone in the room stopped to watch the noonday sunlight bolt through the layers of glass and strike the crystal. One clean blue stream of fire, like a smooth laser beam, shot out of it and onto a mirror, instantly bouncing to the next until it formed a perfect hexagon. The mirrors began rotating at a barely-detectable speed to compensate for the sun’s movement.

Not willing to waste his chance, Aladdin gritted his teeth with determination and dashed towards the mask, which still lay orphaned on the ground.

“No!” Mamoura shouted, shooting another electric hand, but this time at the mask. Aladdin lunged for it, but he was just barely too late, as Mamoura pulled the mask swiftly into her own hands, leaving Aladdin to crash onto the stone floor, empty-handed.

“My quarrel is not with you, boy,” Mamoura spoke with a sudden sincerity. “I have what I came for. You are free to leave in peace.”

Aladdin got to his feet, his resolve unwavering. “I’m not leaving without destroying that mask!”

“I imagine neither is she,” Mirage cut in.

“Oh, I’ve come to end you, Nefera,” Mamoura warned.

“Nefera?” Aladdin muttered, not recognizing the name, but gleaning by Mirage’s unnerved countenance that it held some significance to her.

Mamoura grinned at the mask in her hands, “But it would be a shame to ruin such a powerful relic in doing so!”

Mamoura, you great fool! the evil voice hissed through the hall for all to hear.

“That voice!” Mamoura breathed, as if in a trance, and fell from the air, landing prostrate to the ground in deep reverence. “Maukaara!”

“Maukaara?” Mirage folded her arms. “That’s not–”

Mamoura rose from her bow and scowled at Mirage. “I haven’t heard her voice since you started studying with that mystic of yours.”

“It was whispering to you too!” Mirage’s eyes widened in realization. “But it chose me. That’s why you shut me out!” Mirage laughed. “All this time I’ve gone on about you being jealous of me, and it was actually true!”

“Temptress! Her power was never meant for you.” Mamoura snapped. Her eyes started to glow with an inhuman thirst for power as she turned the face of the mask away from her and raised it to her eye-level. As if in a daze, she uttered, “But none of that matters now.”

Mirage and Aladdin realized at the same time what Mamoura intended to do and simultaneously rushed towards her. But just before they reached her, Mamoura leapt up to float in midair again.

“Mamoura no!” Mirage and Aladdin yelled in unison as Mamoura drew the mask to her face.

“Speak to me, Goddess!” Mamoura begged. “Let me be a vessel of your power!” The instant the mask made contact, her neck bent all the way back, and the mask began to mesh blurrily with her head. Reddish-brown mist began to emanate from her still-levitating body, and the purple flashes started flaring even more wildly behind her. Abu scurried up Aladdin’s robe and hid in his collar, shaking from fear at the nightmarish display.

That’s when Aladdin noticed the same blur effect happening to Mirage’s face, and the same reddish haze starting to mist about her back-bent body. Then, suddenly, a stream of dusty auburn magic shot from Mirage’s warping face and towards the mask, steadily and rapidly flowing as if the mask were sucking some sort of life force from her. A violent and directionless mess of gusts began to howl throughout the hall, filled with various cries and whispers. Aladdin shielded his face from its furor.

Mirage could only see red. Her mind and sense of being became outrageously disoriented, like she was both standing still and careening through a million things at once. The mask was meant as an anchor for her essence. It wasn’t meant to be worn, especially by someone who didn’t understand it.

The essences of Mirage, Nefera, Mamoura, and the ancient evil spirit mingled, confused and chaotic, in the reddish stream that coursed directionlessly between the two bodies and the mask. Mirage felt them all: Mamoura’s thousand years of bitterness, clashing with her own millennium of sadism, clawing at the endless power and ambition of the evil elemental, battling against the humanity and vulnerability of Nefera, all in one ever-twisting metaphysical knot.

The mixing of magics pulled at Mirage’s skin as if it were rubber. She wanted to scream in agony, but her body was paralyzed in its reverse slump as all sense of reality escaped it. Mamoura remained floating motionlessly in the air, defenseless to the confused din of the four essences. There was no progress. The magical maelstrom didn’t get better or worse. It just sustained its horrible note with no end in sight.

Aladdin lowered his arm to gaze in horror at the scene, before remembering Fasir’s words to him some hours ago: “You mustn’t wear the mask. You could become trapped forever.”

“This is what Fasir warned against,” he whispered to himself and Abu. “By donning the mask, Mamoura has created some sort of… eternal limbo.” Suddenly, it occurred to him that he could leave them like this… He could escape with Abu through a purple portal and let Mirage pay for her thousand-year reign of tyranny with a thousand years spent in this warped oblivion.

Aladdin clenched his jaw and forced the idea from his mind.

“Abu,” Aladdin called to the monkey cowering in his robe, “we’ve got to get the mask off of Mamoura. I don’t suppose you’d let me throw you up there?” Abu’s incredulous scowl was all the answer he needed. Aladdin looked up at the high-floating priestess. I could really use that magic carpet about now. He scanned the room for ideas - a rope, a ladder, anything. But all he saw were the pillars, the mirrors, and the crystal. “I think I have an idea.”

Aladdin ran against the wind towards the six mirrors. He knelt behind one of them to examine the angles at which they faced each other, then gave another scan to the layout of the room. With a breath and a gulp, he gripped both sides of the mirror before him and, in a careful but confident movement, he swiveled it to the side. The bright blue stream of fire shot out of the hexagon and towards the side of the castle, cutting through the stone wall like a freshly forged sword through wax. With a brief but careful series of movements, he directed the laser up and over, slicing a clean line through the top of the pillar that stood closest to the floating Mamoura, then back down towards the ground.

“Okay Abu.” Aladdin gripped the terrified monkey and pulled him out from behind his collar, setting him gently on the ground. “When I say so, you’re going to rotate this mirror to the right. You might need to go back and forth a little to really mess up the base. I need that pillar to fall. But not until I’m ready!”

“Okay,” Abu sheepishly agreed. Aladdin removed his robe, dropping it to the ground before leaping over the laser and running up to the pillar. He unsheathed his sword and slid it a safe distance away before leaping onto the pillar. With his arms wrapped around it as far as they could reach, he climbed to the near-top, where it was narrower and easier to grip. “Okay, Abu! Now!” he called over the howling wind.

As directed, Abu turned the mirror so that the laser sliced the base of the column in a clean line. As Aladdin had predicted, the slice was too clean, and Abu had to go back and forth, adjusting the angle slightly each time to make a cruder series of cuts until finally a low crumbling sound groaned from the base. Abu carefully replaced the mirror into its original setting as the column started to tip towards the center of the hall. As it did, Aladdin got to his feet, ran the rest of the way up the falling pillar, and sprung himself off of the top of it. He flew through the air as the pillar boomed to the ground, gaining a little extra lift from the furious squall around the floating priestess, hands outstretched towards her.

After one exciting moment of flight, his hands met her cloak, his fists strongly grasping the fabric just above her ankles. Despite the added weight of his clinging form, she did not sink a single inch as the magic keeping her there still held strong. Aladdin awkwardly climbed up her then wrapped his legs around her waist to anchor himself. He first reached for her outstretched wrist, thinking he should first remove the bracelet. Though he strained as much as he could, he couldn’t reach it well enough to pull it over her hands, and he nearly lost his balance trying.

No good. If I remove the mask, but she still has that bracelet, we’re going to find ourselves back at square one.

An idea struck him.

“Abu!” Aladdin called back over the din. “You still have those manacles?”

Abu pulled them out proudly.

“When I take off the mask, throw them at Mamoura!”

Abu gave an obedient salute, readying himself.

Aladdin leaned in towards Mamoura’s demented face, which was still constantly twisting and bending beneath the mask. Afraid of what contact with the activated mask might do to him, he hesitantly reached both hands towards the side edges of it. As his fingers curled around it, they seemed to warp, and an unnerving sensation started making its way up his arm. Invisible hands seemed to resist him as he started to pull, and the wind beat harder, angrier, at his chest. With a grunt and gritted teeth, he increased his pull until finally he wrenched it clear off of her face. The red smoke, the hellish stream, the furious wind, it was all sucked back into the mask in a fury.

Before the echo had a chance to fade, Abu hurled the nunchuck manacles up at one of Mamoura’s outstretched arms. One cuff clamped onto her right wrist then magically forced both hands together over her head. The moment she was constrained, she lost power of her levitation spell, dropping her and Aladdin swiftly to the ground.

Mirage had lost all control and sense of reality, and she couldn’t tell how long she had been caught in the tangled void until it released her, sending her stumbling dizzily back. With a hand to her head, she stabilized herself and took in her surroundings, slowly remembering where she was and why. Behind her was the hexagon of mirrors, the blue fire from the crystal still streaming bright and smooth between them. Before her, Aladdin groggily made his way to his knees, somehow having made his way on top of a grounded Mamoura. One hand held his head, and in the other, the mask. The sight of the relic brought context to the scene. The hero had somehow gotten into the air and rescued her from limbo - not likely with her well-being in mind, but he had done it nonetheless - and had fallen from the air, breaking his fall on Mamoura.

Mamoura stirred, her hands still bound above her with the device the monkey had stolen from Mirage. Aladdin suddenly snapped out of his fall-induced fog and rolled off of Mamoura, reaching with his free hand for the bracelet on her wrist.

“No!” Mamoura yelped, using magic to make the bracelet grow scorchingly hot. Aladdin let go of it, shaking the heat from his hand. Mamoura tried to get to her feet, but she fell immediately back down, struck by the pain of what appeared to be a severely injured leg.

Feeling a sense of responsibility for her condition, Aladdin held out a hand for her, “Let me help you.”

But Mamoura responded by pointing her bound fists at his head, bracelet glowing. “Give me the mask.”

“Mamoura, don’t be a fool!” Mirage spat, despite herself. She didn’t want Aladdin to have the mask, but she’d rather take her chances against an unarmed boy than whatever crazy thing the magically endowed priestess might attempt next. “You saw what it does. He’s going to destroy it, and me with it. Isn’t that what you want?”

Mamoura responded with an outraged cry, her bracelet lighting up, surging with its next assault.

“Mamoura no!” Aladdin cried, but it was too late. She hurled another magical blast straight up at him, which he dodged with relative ease. But the blast blew straight through the ceiling, sending it falling swiftly to bury her and her final shriek of terror.

Aladdin reeled from the unnecessary loss for just a moment before remembering himself. While Mirage stood stunned at the death of her old mother-figure, he made a dash towards the crystal, mask in hand.

“No!” Mirage pulled another relic from her robe, a rope, and flung it swiftly at him. It quickly snapped around his wrists and bound him, arms raised above his head, to the nearest pillar, the mask still firmly in his grasp. Mirage made eye contact with Abu, who stood stunned but ready to move, then directed her gaze back to the pile of rubble that entombed Mamoura, noticing a silver glint beside it.

The moment Abu started his dash towards Aladdin, Mirage bolted toward the debris, reaching the bloodied bracelet just as Abu reached the mask. As he dashed towards the crystal with it, Mirage slipped the bangle onto her wrist and threw her hand up, using its magic to freeze Abu in midair just in the nick of time to save her skin. A bead of sweat formed at her brow as she saw the mask in the immobilized monkey’s outstretched hands, hovering just inches from the fire. She breathed and took in the scene, gradually accepting that she had finally gained control of it. The magic from the bracelet held full and strong; one nemesis was dead, and the others were immobilized, with her still standing. Alive.

Carefully, Mirage approached the frozen Abu and took the mask from his grasp. She then conjured a thread of magic with the bracelet’s power and wrapped it around him, binding him before levitating him to the far end of the hall. Just before she could reassess the situation, more of the busted ceiling started to crumble and fall. Although it wasn’t near enough to threaten her, the impact sent a tremor through the ground that knocked her off balance, throwing her back just enough to knock one of the mirrors out of alignment.

“No!” two voices called at once - Mirage, for fear that the misstep would maim her or the mask; and Aladdin, as the swivel of the mirror sent the laser careening in his direction. It sliced through pillars and wall on its way and stopped just inches from his waist, moving at a snail’s pace towards him as the sun continued its course through the sky.

Suddenly, another boom sounded through the hall, as the doors were thrown open.

Aladdin lit up, hope springing from his lips, with her name:

“Jasmine!”

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Today was a pivotal day. He only had a few precious hours before he had to leave to destroy the mask. It was likely to be dangerous, assuming Mirage wouldn’t go down without a fight. And without Carpet or Genie’s magic, the stakes would be even higher. But then there was the matter of Jasmine.

He thought back to that morning on Tragoon. What was the yarn he had spun for her?

“Ned knows of a cure. It’s a few days’ journey out,” he had said. “And then I’ll take you wherever you want to go. You’ll be free to forget me. On purpose.”

Well, as far as she was concerned, the spell was broken. She was back to a consistent reality. It wasn’t the true one, but it was one she believed and had learned to live with. And, unless she were to kiss him in the next few hours, her memories would be the same tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that... That left Aladdin just one move away from upholding the rest of his bargain:

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go. You’ll be free to forget me.”

He had made that promise before finding out that there was a time limit. Before realizing how much her set of false memories would hinder her willingness to trust him. Then, as if whispered by some magic in the wind, Aladdin remembered the words spoken to him at the temple the day before:

Love survives a brave goodbye When trusted with the right to fly.

And as he gazed at his slumbering love, he realized what he had to do.

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The attack at the temple should have worked. There were more than enough mages, and the spell was well-practiced. But for some unexplained reason, all of their magic was weakened that day.

Mamoura hadn’t slept that night. For a thousand years she waited for her old protégé to return to the city. She had gathered a faithful following. It was easy to do in a city that believed in divine beings, especially given her enigmatic age and magical abilities. After decades of barely changing in appearance, she realized there were several dozen others like her, all aging at an unnaturally slow pace. Eventually the dots connected that the one thing they had in common was that “The Mystical Mirage” had used her novice magic on them.

Some of the Healed Ones made the best of their extra time, becoming masters of their crafts, sharing their unique wisdom, raising their children’s children’s children (and so on), or becoming heroes across the desert. Some died of natural illness or injury, while others, plagued by the slow drum of time and the torture of losing loved one after loved one, died by their own hands. And then there were the ones Mamoura seeked out - those who grew bitter with the curse of long life but were too pious to end their own lives. She trained them in her ways. For centuries, she gave them purpose and a place to direct their vitriol: at the one who caused their suffering - The Mystical Mirage.

And now she was there, in her city. Mamoura kept a constant eye on her enchanted map that night. She had burnt an invisible tracking spell onto Mirage’s wrist before the skirmish, and a red X on the map showed her whereabouts at all times. Since their skirmish at the temple, Mirage had been holed up inside an inconspicuous apartment across the city. Mamoura had tried to get in while she slept, but it was protected by some sort of border spell.

Mamoura tapped the map impatiently. She can’t hide in there forever.

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Aladdin quietly got dressed and made his way down to Genie’s room. With a slight knock, he eased the unlocked door open. Fasir lay asleep on the bed, Kieran snoozed upright in a chair beside him, and Genie presumably rested inside the lamp on the nightstand.

“Pst, Abu!” Aladdin whispered. The monkey, who had been asleep at Fasir’s feet, shot up and scurried over and up to Aladdin’s shoulder. “How’s he doing?”

Abu shrugged. Carpet drowsily woke and floated into a lazy standing position.

“Good - Carpet, you’re awake!” Aladdin exclaimed, still in a hushed tone, before letting out a reluctant sigh. “We need to talk.”

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“NO!!!” Nefera screamed as she ran to him, the seer falling to the ground beside the river, holding his side in agony. Blood flowed from him like a fountain of plague. She threw herself at his side and, without a thought for the sheer amount of blood she was soon to be covered in, thrust her hands onto the wound. At her touch, the blood became viscous and began creeping up her arm. “NO!” she shrieked again, shutting her eyes but refusing to give up on her attempt to heal him. The living blood took hold of every part of her, but she ignored it as her magic flowed into the lifeless mystic.

The warmth of the spell bloomed from her hands but soon grew to be unbearably hot, as if she had thrust her hands into boiling water. She let out yet another scream and forced her eyes open to see him fading beneath her touch. She tried to pull her hands away, closing her eyes against the strain, but they wouldn’t budge. After another excruciating moment, it all stopped, the force of it throwing her back.

When she opened her eyes, all was calm. The river flowed calmly. Birds sang above. Clouds drifted in a perfect blue sky. But when she looked at where the seer had been, to her horror, he had been reduced to a pile of bones.

‘You did this to him,’ a voice hissed.

“No!” she cried. She reached towards what remained of the one she once loved, but her view was blocked by a set of hands, blighted with impossibly thick scars, more shadowed than the darkest starless night. The sound of the voice’s laughter resounded around her, as she realized the hands were her own. The river laughed at her. The birds laughed at her. The clouds laughed at her from their throne in the sky.

Mirage squinted against the nightmare, clutching the sheets in her fists as the feeling of horror and embarrassment escaped her, leaving her only with a lingering sense of shame. As she awoke, she kept her eyes squeezed shut, quietly hoping she would fall back asleep and not have to face the day. But, with her sense of sight turned off, the others magnified and pulled her closer and closer to full consciousness. The sound of Suketra outside the window was eerily similar to how it sounded a thousand years ago. Even the ghost of the apartment’s scent somewhat survived the millenium. Some hidden part of her expected to open her eyes and see him, his blindfold not yet pulled down, humming and preparing breakfast.

When she finally did open her eyes, she was further disappointed to find that she had fully made her way onto the bed and under the blanket, despite having deliberately fallen asleep above the covers with her legs dangling over the side. Even more nauseating was the fact that she had slept on her side of the bed, as if her body half expected him to return and take his place beside her.

Mirage hastily removed herself from the bed, shoving the thought down with the rest of them. Without thinking, she made her way into the kitchen and opened the cupboard, only to find it empty.

Obviously.

Then she moved to the door and reached for the doorknob, which met her touch with a light magical shock. The spell still held.

He still lives, she thought with more relief than she cared to acknowledge.

Mirage turned slightly and found herself looking into that damn mirror again. She couldn’t remember what she had eaten last week, but she could remember how it felt to stand there a thousand years ago, staring at her cursed body, the taste of blood in her mouth. The memory filled her with a fresh rage, and she grabbed the cup Nefera had left on the table and hurled it at the mirror. Both items shattered dramatically against each other.

When Mirage looked back up, the mirror still hung steadfast on the wall but was covered in cracks, creating a hundred smaller mirrors, from which a hundred Mirages stared back.

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Across the city, Jasmine also dreamt. In her dreams, she walked through a city marketplace - surrounded by vendors selling fruits, nuts and dates, jewelry, fresh fish, perfumes, and spices, their harsh but passionate voices trying to cut through each other in the din of a busy morning. Somehow she knew she was in the marketplace of Agrabah, her home. Although she could have sworn she had never been there before, somehow every nook, every knot in the wooden stands, every tear in every awning was all too familiar. No, more than familiar - it was known to her, as if she had walked these streets many times before. It was all exactly right.

“Princess!” One vendor achieved the impossible and won her attention over the others. She was a modestly dressed, beautiful woman with severe features, straight black hair pinned back, with shorter hair sitting atop thinly curved brows.

Jasmine looked at the vendor’s table and saw that it was empty.

“Yes, Princess,” the woman purred, “I have no wares to sell. Well… No physical wares. But I can give you what you want most.”

“What’s that?” Jasmine raised a brow, not sure the answer herself.

“Your freedom,” the vendor nodded towards Jasmine’s wrists, and the princess gasped with the realization that they were shackled together. “Freedom from yourself.”

Jasmine looked up at the vendor, who now held a golden key. “What’s the price?” Jasmine asked. “I can give you my weight in gold!”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” the vendor grinned.

“Then what?”

“Don’t ask me! I’m just a humble merchant. You’re the one who put those on.”

“But you just said–”

“Jasmine!” a young man’s voice called, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around, but no one was there. She turned back to the vendor, to see that she had vanished. “Jasmine,” the voice called again, but this time softer. The sounds of the noisy marketplace faded out and then back in, but with a different set of voices. The voices of Suketrans starting their day.

“Jasmine,” the voice whispered again as she opened her eyes. She looked up to see him - the boy from the marketplace. No. That memory dissolved and was replaced with a different one - he was the boy from the dress shop. And the oasis. And the burning castle.

“Aladdin?” she mumbled groggily from her place on the inn room floor.

“Sorry to wake you,” Aladdin whispered. He was bright-eyed and dressed for the day, donning a low-cut shirt with matching sirwal pants and his dark blue robe from the day before. He crouched beside her with a friendly smile, a hand gently placed on her shoulder. “I let you sleep as late as possible, but we’ve got to check out in a few minutes.”

Jasmine sleepily rubbed her eyes, accidentally smearing her slept-in makeup from the day before, and let Aladdin pull her up to her feet. Still holding her hand, he looked at her and gave a gentle laugh. “May I?”

“May you what?” she grumpily mumbled.

Aladdin reached for the flask from the nightstand and wet his thumb. Jasmine inclined her chin slightly for him as he raised his hand and wiped the smudged kohl from the corner of her eye. The motion was meant to be playful and innocent, but instead it was slow and intentional, drawing her gaze to meet his. Struck by the unexpected intimacy of his touch, Jasmine felt a soft burning sensation start to glow inside of her. She lowered her eyes, hoping that, in escaping his gaze, she could also escape the way it made her feel. But instead she found herself staring at the exposed part of his chest, where she was met with a strange urge to touch him.

At first, Aladdin thought this could be it, the moment he had longed for. Her gaze after he had innocently touched her face - he knew that look from a thousand stolen moments between them. Even as she lowered her eyes and slowly lifted her fingertips towards his chest, he prayed she would touch him, that she would feel how his heart was ready to beat out of his body for her.

But she pulled back and stepped away.

“Thank you,” she uttered with a blush, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I… forgot to take off my makeup last night.”

Aladdin breathed out, releasing the tension he suddenly realized he was holding. “Forget it. I’ll… meet you outside in ten minutes,” he said as he went to leave, trying to sound as casual as he could, though his heart felt like it was bound and thrown into the sea.

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Fasir awoke from a slumber so deep and dreamless that for a moment he thought he may have been rising from the dead. His first haggard waking breath alerted Kieran, who sat reading a book in the chair beside the bed.

“Fasir!” Kieran quickly tossed the book aside and moved to take his old friend’s hands in his. “How do you feel? Is the Essencebane working?”

Fasir slowly worked his way into a sitting position. “Yes, but it is fading. I don’t have much longer.” A somber silence floated between the old friends. “It is a strange thing to live as long as we have and still die. I was starting to think the day would never come.”

Kieran slightly lowered his head in a kind of respectful grief.

“Where is Aladdin?” Fasir asked.

“Outside, waiting for the princess,” Kieran answered. “He didn’t want to wake you. Would you like me to fetch him?”

Fasir paused, and Kieran could tell by his demeanor and sudden stillness that he was receiving a vision. “No,” Fasir finally answered. “He has everything he needs. He will do what is right.”

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Aladdin, Abu, Genie, Carpet, and Jasmine shared a quiet picnic breakfast at a secluded spot beside the river. It was too quiet, Jasmine thought. Something was clearly bothering the guys, but not a single one said anything. Genie ate with an uncharacteristic amount of patience and politeness. Aladdin avoided eye contact with everyone. Carpet, who neither eats nor talks anyways, was skipping rocks across the lazy current. Even he, without a voice or a face, seemed deeply in thought. Abu was the only one who seemed himself, greedily scarfing down more than his share of the spread.

“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Jasmine finally spoke up.

Genie gave Aladdin a not-so-subtle side-eye.

Aladdin sighed and paused, as if building up the courage to divulge something he really didn’t want to. He stood up and offered a hand to Jasmine. “Walk with me?” She let him bring her to her feet before he turned to his pensive and flat friend. “Hey, Carpet. Will you come with us?”

Carpet threw one last stone and turned, not seeing it skip a full dozen times.

The three walked in silence until Genie and Abu were out of earshot.

“So…” Aladdin searched for the right words. “Do you remember, when we first met–”

“When you kidnapped me,” Jasmine shot him a glare.

“Yeah,” Aladdin blushed. “I said I would take you somewhere safe and find a cure for the spell.”

Jasmine waited for him to continue.

“Well, you’re safe, and… I… kinda did. Break the spell I mean. Last night.”

“You kind of did?”

“It’s a long story, but yes. When midnight comes tonight, nothing will happen. Your memories as you have them now will remain.”

Jasmine looked at him with narrow eyes. “Why are you being cryptic?”

Aladdin stopped walking and softly reached for both of her hands. He gave her a look so earnest, she was ready to believe him before he even said a word. “I wish I knew how to make you understand without forcing my own memories onto you. What I’m trying to say is… you’re free now.”

Jasmine tilted her head and furrowed her brow, signaling for him to elaborate.

“I told you once the spell was broken, you could go anywhere in the world you want.” Aladdin let go of Jasmine’s hands in order to remove Kieran’s satchel from around his neck. He took out the mask before handing the magical bag to her. “Here. Kieran says it’s yours now. There’s an almanac in there from a local mapmaker. It has very detailed maps of the entire world, and… I talked to Carpet this morning. He is yours now. You can take him anywhere you want. As far and wide as you can imagine. You can explore, or you can settle down somewhere new, somewhere safe. It’s up to you. Time for you to let your heart decide.”

Jasmine, speechless, looked incredulously between the young thief and his… her magic carpet. She felt completely blindsided by his words and his gift. She shouldn’t be, she thought, since this was exactly the plan all along. Was she surprised that he actually kept his word? Or was she surprised because she had started to envision an entirely different future than the one she thought she wanted a mere week ago?

“But…” Jasmine didn’t know what to say. “What about you? Where will you go?”

“Well, first I gotta take care of this thing,” Aladdin forced a smirk as he gave the mask an awkward little upward toss, catching it and stashing it in his robe. Jasmine saw the slight flash of a sword sheathed at his belt. “If I survive that… I was thinking maybe I’d see if Amal has room for a Genie and a transient street rat in his caravan of heroes.”

Jasmine’s first thought was that the role of hero suited him. But that left her with her own parallel thought - what would her role be? The title princess meant nothing to her anymore, and since leaving her father, daughter didn’t suit her much either. It was a clean slate.

No.

It was an empty slate.

“Al,” Genie’s voice sliced through the thick pause between them, like a knife through butter. They were so distracted they didn’t notice him and Abu catching up with them. Aladdin knew why Genie was there before he said a word, his heart sinking into his feet as Genie placed an empathetic hand on his shoulder.

“It’s time to go.”

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Mirage’s body tingled with a gentle but invigorating surge as her magic returned to her in full.

The mask has left the city, she realized. Eager to leave Fasir’s prison of twisted nostalgia, she wasted no time in heading to the door and conjuring a spell, carefully tracing it around the frame with glowing fingertips. Once the spell was set, the door vanished completely, and Mirage walked through the empty doorway with an unsettling amount of ease. As if Fasir wanted her to be able to break free.

Another spell later, and she was in her lair, rushing to her portal to locate the mask. It didn’t take long before she found them; the image of Aladdin, Genie, and Abu appeared at the base of an island she only vaguely recognized. With some directive hand motions, she navigated the portal’s view up the stairs from where they stood. At their apex lay a demolished stone courtyard, overcome with monstrous-sized thorns and vines. The courtyard ended with a set of grand doors to a towering castle that looked as if it had been grotesquely constructed with the carcasses of a dozen conquered fortresses.

Mirage continued the vision forward, through the doors and into the castle. The room behind the doors was vast and once would have been a grand hall. The sides were lined with thick, ornate marble pillars built to support open arcades that cut through to create breezeways on either side of the hall. Towards the end of the room was a hexagon formed from six mirrors. In their center stood a clawed fixture in whose prongs was fixed a crystal. Above the crystal was a series of magnifying glasses leading up to a sizable gap in the sprawling ceiling.

Mirage wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but whatever it was, it was put there on purpose by somebody, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Think, Mirage, think,” she thought aloud as she paced. “The only reason they would steal the mask is to destroy it. But if I go near it to pursue them, I’ll only have enough strength for one spell, maybe two, before it turns to hand-to-hand combat against a seasoned hero and a weakened, but still physically capable, genie. Why I’d need–”

That’s when it occurred to her.

The healer they call “Kieran” - his balms and parlor tricks worked just fine around the mask. The truth serum, the sleeping powders, and all but one of the exploding figs had worked just as intended, despite their proximity to the mask in the fortress.

Relics aren’t affected by the mask, she realized, grinning madly as she hurried towards her relic stash.

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Genie, Aladdin, and Abu appeared a moment later at the entrance of Fashoom’s island. They landed safely at the base of a stone stairway that started in midair before cutting up through a tangle of unnaturally large thorny roots. At the top loomed the brooding castle, where their mission would finally end. But Aladdin couldn’t think of anything else at that moment. The second his body appeared at the new location, he fell furiously to his knees, slamming his fists on the gray stair, an anguished groan tearing from his throat.

Abu and Genie stood behind him, unsure whether to comfort him or give him space. Their hesitance decided for them as they heard him raspily breathe her name, the reality of their farewell beating upon him like leaden rain. They were so close…

They were so close…

Aladdin stayed on his knees for another moment, attempting to ground himself by closing his eyes and feeling the sun-warmed stone beneath his palms. He then took a breath and rose slightly to look back at his friends. His eyes fought against the pressure of the storm behind them as he uttered with a shake: “What if I made a mistake?” Genie made a slight move, a subtle offering of his arms, and Aladdin quickly stood the rest of the way and threw himself into an embrace with his big blue friend.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Al,” Genie soothed, enveloping him with a genuine warmth and tenderness. “We’ve been through a lot these past years. Monsters, villains, disasters. But what you just did was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen you do.” Aladdin withdrew and looked up at Genie, wiping a tear from each eye. “It was time. Time to give her her autonomy back.” Aladdin looked at his feet, avoiding Genie’s truth, and Genie gently turned his chin back up to face him. “Hey. What you did you did out of love. This doesn’t have to be the end.” Genie paused for a moment, then added with a wink, “Besides, things turned out okay the last time you kept your promise to set someone free, didn’t they?”

Aladdin forced a sideways grin. “Thanks Genie.” Abu scurried up to Aladdin’s shoulder and gave his neck an affectionate hug. Aladdin lifted a hand fondly to pat the little monkey. “You too, Abu.”

Genie gazed up at the sun as it slowly moved overhead.

Aladdin followed Genie’s gaze and read his thoughts. “It’s almost noon,” he said.

“What do you say, Al?” Genie shifted his gaze to the castle at the top of the stair. “You ready to get up there and kick some kitty keister?”

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What just happened? Jasmine was left standing beside the river, alone with the silent magic carpet. She had never seen Aladdin like that - the usually self-assured, excruciatingly charming young hero stumbling over his words, nearly shaking. And within a few moments, he was gone. Out of thin air. Along with the Genie and Abu.

Jasmine looked around at the sunny river scene, the calm, deliberate plodding of the water and the wistful hum of the breeze at complete odds with her sense of directionlessness. She then gazed down at the satchel in her grasp as if it held the answer. Not knowing what else to do with the pregnant pause in her sanity, she reached in and pulled out the almanac. She flipped mindlessly through the pages, seeing flashes of illustrated maps, waters, skies, and crops - images of a world she had never believed she would ever see, now at her very fingertips. This should please her. This should excite her…

Jasmine moved her gaze to the carpet standing beside her, likely awaiting her next move. Or was he mourning the departure of his friend?

Were they friends, the carpet and the boy? Surely they were, after the death-defying feats they had seen each other through that week, and possibly beyond.

“Before the spell,” Jasmine had asked Aladdin days before, “The days I can’t remember… You’re in them… a lot, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he had answered.

Jasmine gave a sad smirk to the rug and asked, “What about you and me? Were we friends before all of this too?”

The rug seemed to nod in the affirmative.

Jasmine sighed. This reality that the “broken spell” had left her with was the only one she knew. It wasn’t great, but it was hers. She knew how to live with it. Why torture herself with the possibility that it was fake? Why take the proofless word of a thief and a mute rug, that maybe there was an alternate reality in which she might have been more than a future trophy wife, sitting around in her gilded cage, waiting to become some prince’s breeding mare?

“Carpet, how do you feel,” Jasmine asked with a sudden sense of decisiveness, “now that the mask is far away?”

Carpet answered with an exuberant swirl through the air, landing in a dramatically heroic stance.

“Good,” she stated, standing straight with resolve. “Take me to Fasir. I need answers.”

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“Priestess!”

Mamoura snapped her head away from the map for the first time all morning in response to the messenger.

“I was meditating in a tree beside the river when the strangest thing happened!” the messenger started.

“Oh?”

“I heard voices on the shore below. It was a boy, a girl, and what could only have been a Magic Carpet! They spoke of a spell. Naturally I couldn’t help but listen. There wasn’t much to glean on the spell itself, but they mentioned the names of two other Healed Ones: Kieran and Fasir.”

“Fasir!” Mamoura mused nostalgically at the name of the ancient mystic. She had heard of his many exploits, deeds, and wonders over the millenium, but she hadn’t laid eyes on him since he was just an apprentice seducing her temple maiden. That’s when she realized something with a small gasp: “It was him yesterday. At the temple.” Then, another realization drew out a slight cackle: “He still loves her! Oh! That poor fool”

“But that’s not all, Priestess,” the messenger continued. “The boy pulled out the mask from his robe.”

Mamoura paused, waiting for elaboration that didn’t come, before responding, “Well… yes. Everybody in Suketra has a mask from yesterda–”

“No, Priestess,” the messenger interrupted eagerly. “He pulled out… the mask. Her mask.”

Mamoura’s mouth dropped open as she realized the messenger’s implication. “It can’t be.”

“Perhaps the legend is true!”

Mamoura had heard tales that the Mystical Mirage’s mask lay hidden beneath a magically-protected fortress. That it contained a great power, fueled by siphoning magic from magical beings around it, and that destroying it would be to destroy Evil Incarnate.

“It would explain why our spell weakened so quickly yesterday,” the messenger suggested.

“Where is this boy?” Mamoura asked urgently.

“I don’t know, Priestess. He only said he had to ‘take care of’ the mask and suggested that it would be dangerous. Then another man approached him, said it was time to go, and all but the carpet and the girl poofed away, out of midair.”

“With the mask?”

The messenger nodded.

Mamoura stood absolutely still, letting the news sink into her concept of reality. Then she turned back to the map, and the red X was gone. Mirage had left.

“Get the others,” Mamoura spoke sternly.

“Yes, priestess.”

When the messenger was out of sight, Mamoura added in a low voice: “I’m going to need all the magic I can get.”

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Jasmine paid no heed to the citizens’ exclamations of wonder as she flew on a magic carpet across their city back to the inn. And when they landed, she wasted no time making her way in to Fasir’s room, not even stopping to knock.

“I need answers,” she demanded as she strode in, the adrenaline of the last few minutes coursing through her. At the sight of the sickly old man and the surprised Kieran, her temperature lowered a bit, and self-awareness started to settle in. “I’m sorry,  I… didn’t know where else to go.”

Kieran turned to Fasir who still sat up weakly, his back supported by the headboard. “My friend,” Fasir spoke to him, “I wish to speak with the princess, alone.”

“Of course,” Kieran rose to leave.

“But Kieran,” he interrupted the movement, “Thank you.”

Kieran nodded solemnly and slipped out, closing the door silently behind him.

Fasir motioned to the newly empty chair beside the bed, and Jasmine took it.

Fasir waited for Jasmine to open the conversation. Jasmine had begun to believe that she would never get her questions answered and didn’t quite know where to start.

“Who are you?” she finally asked, starting simple.

“I am Fasir,” he answered. “I am an old friend. A very old friend,” he coughed. 

“Is it true,” she continued, accepting the brief answer for the time being, “that the spell is broken?”

Fasir took in a deep breath and let it out, a reluctant sign that assured Jasmine that he knew what she was talking about.

“Please,” Jasmine begged. “No more cryptic answers.”

“The spell is half broken,” he answered simply, his answer agreeing with the “kinda” from her earlier conversation with Aladdin.

“What does that mean?” Jasmine shook her head, unsatisfied. “My memories. Are they real?”

Fasir paused in such a way that Jasmine could tell he was deciding how much of the truth to tell her. Seven deserts, was she tired of that pause.

“Many of them are,” he answered finally.

“Aladdin. He said that he and I had known each other before,” she gestured vaguely, “all of this. Was he telling the truth?”

“Oh, yes,” Fasir responded, his frank honesty a relief to her.

“What…” Jasmine searched for the right way to ask the big question on her mind. “What were we to each other?”

“Does that matter?”

“How could that possibly not matter?” Jasmine raised a brow.

Fasir answered only with: “What are you now?”

Jasmine opened her mouth to speak before realizing she had no answer. As of a few minutes ago, they were nothing at all. Acquaintances who a spell thrust together, she thought. Just two unlikely people surviving the same series of disasters before going their separate ways.

“Acquaintances,” Fasir chuckled in a slightly mocking tone.

Was he just reading my mind?

“Sorry, I don’t always control it.”

Jasmine scowled, but she knew Fasir was right to laugh at her stubborn denial of reality. Her thoughts were still with him, that stubborn, thieving rogue who had just left her dumbfounded on a river bank. She thought of his boyish smile on the island. Of him fighting a sandstorm just to hold her. The lift in her chest when he barged into the room where Daru had a sword at her neck. Then she thought of the emptiness in her heart when she thought she had lost him to a crumbling castle. And how right his skin felt beneath her hands. And she remembered the warmth of him as he pulled her into a firelit dance. And how much she wanted to touch him that morning in their room. And how much the thought of never seeing him again felt like a fist clenched around her heart.

He wasn’t an acquaintance. And he wasn’t her friend.

“No,” she whispered, turning flush with the realization. “I love him.”

Fasir answered only with a slight smile.

“Carpet, do you know where he is?” Jasmine turned decidedly to the flying rug, who nodded excitedly. “Take me to him. I won’t let him face this alone.”

“Good.” Fasir gave a small grunt as he focused all of his energy into turning and moving his feet off of the bed and onto the floor. “I’m going with you.”

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As soon as Jasmine and Carpet were out of ear shot, Aladdin fell to his knees beside the bed. “Fasir, you have to hold on! We’ve come so close. I can’t lose her now.”

“You broke your half of the spell, did you not?” Fasir rasped. “I feel the slightest lift.”

“We kissed. We both remembered at the same time, and then she…” Aladdin choked on his words.

“You gave her your true love’s kiss. Now she must do the same for you. Or she will remain cursed.”

“But you’re…”

Fasir sighed, “I am dying, yes. Kieran will likely give me Essencebane.” He paused to cough before continuing. “It is essentially a final burst of energy.”

“How much longer will it give you?” Aladdin asked.

Fasir paused to cough. Genie retrieved a glass of water, and Aladdin helped him into a sitting position so he could take it. “Perhaps until noon,” the dying seer finally answered.

Aladdin asked softly, “Will I ever see her again?”

“Yes. Nobody here is dying,” Fasir managed a grin. “Except me.”

Aladdin clarified, “I mean will I ever see the real her?”

“I know what you meant… But you speak as if they are two different people,” Fasir warned. “They are one. You must not begrudge her for not remembering. It is not a fate she would have chosen.”

“I mean–”

“I know what you mean,” Fasir breathed. “And no. If I fall before she kisses you, her memories will never come back.”

“What if I defeat Mirage?”

“It will not undo what evil incarnate has done.” Fasir sighed.

Aladdin was speechless, desperately searching the air for another answer.

Fasir spoke again, “Would you still love her?”

Aladdin paused. An hour ago, the answer would have been an obvious “yes.” But he imagined what life would be like with a Jasmine who didn’t remember the five-plus years they spent together, five years filled with more adventure than a hundred men see in their combined lifetimes, a love more deep than any lovers in any story ever told. Could he pretend, for the rest of his life, that none of it had ever happened?

Then he thought of her, running and vaulting through Tragoon with him, flying with arms outstretched in the clouds, riding a chandelier into a burning foyer, setting animals and captives free, her healing touch on his wounds, the sight of her dancing in the firelight, the way her eyes twinkled in the starlight… And he had his answer.

“Yes,” he spoke solemnly. “I would love her in any lifetime.”

“Good,” Fasir managed a grin.

Aladdin sighed, “I’m sorry. Look at me. You’re suffering, and I’m making it all about me.”

“I have made this about you.”

“You’ve done so much good for us. For the world.” Aladdin paused as the grief of losing Jasmine collided with the grief of losing Fasir. Finally, he managed: “You’re a good man, Fasir.”

After a beat, Fasir changed the subject: “Let us speak about tomorrow.” Genie brought a chair over, and Aladdin got up from the floor to sit at Fasir’s bedside. “Do you remember the night you lived over and over? In the desert. With the Riders of Ramond in the canyon.”

“With the crystal? Yeah,” Aladdin answered, remembering the story he had told at the fireside the night before. He managed a bittersweet smirk. “Jasmine was not happy with me when I got back from that one.”

“The Riders were transporting the crystal to me,” Fasir revealed. His words were many, and his voice carried them with perseverance through a painful-sounding rasp. “It has the power to undo what has been done. I have hidden it somewhere safe. You are to take the Mask of Mirage there. The sun will hit the crystal exactly at midday, creating a beam of blue fire. The fire will incinerate anything in its path and will last for one hour. You must use it to burn the mask to cinders.” Fasir paused to cough and take more water. “Destroying the mask will destroy Mirage. Destroying it in front of the crystal will also destroy the elemental that has possessed her.”

“Mirage is possessed?”

Fasir sighed, “In a manner of speaking. It’s… more like a symbiote. If you destroy the mask without the crystal, the evil spirit will reenter the world to seek out its next host. Only do this if you are left without a choice.”

Aladdin nodded in understanding.

“Another thing,” Fasir started before falling into another violent fit of coughs. “You mustn’t… wear the mask. You could become trapped forever.”

Aladdin gave a sideways grin, handing another cup of water to the afflicted seer, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I just,” Fasir managed a breathy laugh, “wanted to be careful… after seeing your other fashion choices today.”

Aladdin looked up at the ridiculous turban he still wore, taking it off with the hint of a laugh.

“Genie - do you remember the way to Fashoom’s island in the sky?” Fasir reoriented the conversation.

“Is that where you’ve hidden the crystal?” Aladdin asked.

“Yes,” intoned Fasir.

“I remember the way,” Genie answered. “And I betcha the rug does too.”

“The carpet will never make it that far with the mask in tow,” Fasir warned.

“Fair point” Genie said. “But I think I can manage one ‘poof.’”

“Yes, but you will need your rest,” Fasir suggested firmly. “Both of you. I can hold on until Kieran arrives.”

“I won’t leave you,” Aladdin insisted.

“Al,” Genie placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know he’s right. It’ll be an early morning.” With a wink, he added, “Plus, you’re up way past your bedtime.”

“The Genie is right,” Fasir agreed. “Go.”

Aladdin looked from Fasir to the Genie, then back to Fasir. “Fasir, I…” he paused, emotion building behind his eyes. “Thank you.”

Fasir gave a slight nod, and Aladdin retired to his room.

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The first few minutes flying away from the inn were slow and wobbly, filled with clumsy dips and cumbersome rises as the Magic Carpet forced his way further from the power-drain of the mask. But by the time they made it to the freedom of the desert, Carpet’s magic had returned, and he took off with newfound liberation, slicing through the air at speeds Jasmine didn’t know were survivable. She ducked her head to shield her face from the tear-inducing sting of the wind and gripped the edge of Carpet so hard that she wondered if he could feel it.

Who was this Fasir to them that Carpet would hit such breakneck speeds to fetch him a healer?

She had heard his name before, but only in whispers.

“Can’t it wait another day?” Aladdin had asked the elders three nights before, when they spoke of stealing the mask.

“Not if Fasir is faltering,” Lyra had answered.

What did it mean?

Maybe Kieran would have answers, but Jasmine doubted he’d be able to get a word in if Carpet intended to carry them back at this speed too.

It wasn’t long at all before Carpet came to a frantic halt at the caravan camp, accidentally throwing Jasmine into the sand.

“Princess!” Amal, thankfully still awake, rose from the dying campfire he was enjoying with a few other night owls. He hurried to them and helped Jasmine to her feet as her body slowly realized that it wasn’t still careening through the sky. “Is everything okay? What news do you bring?”

“Fasir,” she breathed. “I think he’s dying.”

“Have you broken the spell?” Amal grabbed her shoulders with sudden urgency.

Jasmine gazed at him with frustration. “What spell?”

Amal’s eyes grew large with dread, and he let go of her. “No,” he whispered before turning and running to fetch Kieran.

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Jasmine was right. There was no getting a word in at the speed of Carpet’s flight. But she kept going back to Amal’s panic at her answer. Surely, by “the spell,” he meant whatever magic was affecting her memories, but she was growing exasperated by everyone’s reluctance to elaborate on its source. How exactly was she supposed to have broken it? And what did that have to do with Fasir? Should she be panicking too?

Carpet remembered to come to a gradual stop upon returning to Indima’s Inn.

“Where is he?” Kieran asked with quiet intensity as he disembarked, still wobbling from the flight.

When they entered the room, Kieran hesitated for a moment, struck by the emotion of seeing his thousand-year-old fellow in such a state. “There you are, my old friend,” he choked back as he gently made his way to the bedside.

Jasmine had half a mind to interrupt the scene and demand answers already, but the solemnness of it all touched her. It could wait until morning.

As Kieran started unloading his pack of treatments, Jasmine scanned the room for familiar faces and saw Genie - asleep on the floor in the corner.

“Genie,” Jasmine whispered, giving him a gentle nudge. “Where’s Aladdin.”

“He’s upstairs in your room,” Genie answered without opening his eyes. “You have a key… He could probably use a friend.”

Jasmine nodded solemnly as Genie fell back into a light snore. She made sure Kieran didn’t need anything before leaving the room and sourcing a staircase.

A friend.

She didn’t think to question the term until she was halfway upstairs. They had been through a lot together that week. More than most people go through in a lifetime. True, she didn’t remember half of it, but wouldn’t that add to the testament, in some odd way?

She shook her head. What was she thinking? The boy had kidnapped her! Wouldn’t it be a betrayal to herself to admit friendship with such a person?

At the top of the stair, Jasmine reached into the satchel that had miraculously stayed shut and strung across her through the manic flight. She dug around, noting how impossibly deep and full of random stuff such a small bag could be, until her hand met the cool metal of a key.

Room 8, its tag read.

Jasmine walked the hall, following the numbers down, as her mind returned to the boy. The kidnapping felt so long ago at that point, that she had practically forgotten about it. Since then, he had also played the role of rescuer, storyteller, adventurer, accomplice, dance partner...  Calling him a “Kidnapper” seemed outdated and irrelevant. But “friend” seemed… somehow, insufficient.

The lock to Room 8 clicked at the turn of her wrist, and she gently pushed the door open. The room was silent and dark, save for an oil lamp burning dimly on a nearby stand. Quietly closing the door behind her, Jasmine picked up the lamp and observed the room. It was small. There was one window, left half open, its white curtains swaying slightly in the moonlit breeze. Beside a single nightstand stood a bed, still made and empty. Her eyes moved to the floor, and that’s where she saw him - fast asleep on the rug, a throw pillow beneath his head, and a towel for a blanket.

Something inside her simultaneously sank and fluttered. When Genie had said “your room,” he had meant “both” of them.

Not comfortable with undressing completely, Jasmine took off her robe and climbed into the bed in the dayclothes she wore underneath. The bed was soft, warm, and inviting. It was the first time she had felt such comfort since she left Agrabah. But she had a hard time enjoying it; staring at the ceiling, her mind returned to the boy sleeping on the floor alone. Not forcing her to share his bed was clearing a low bar, but something about the loneliness in his form touched her.

He had looked so troubled on the rooftop that midnight. So scared and so sad at the same time. What had happened just before the new day struck? She couldn’t remember anything concrete about that day or how they had gotten up onto that roof, but per usual, she had enigmatic fragments of what may have happened. A carriage in the desert. A glowing comb. And the shadows of what may have been… a kiss?

When she had “come to” that midnight, she had been slightly disheveled - her robe off her shoulder, his hands on her face, a blanket on the roof floor behind her. This specter of whoever she was on the days she couldn’t remember… What had she done or said? Who was she to him?

Jasmine rose slightly to look at the boy, sleeping on the cold floor. His cohort dying downstairs.

He could probably use a friend.

Jasmine sighed and rose from the bed, pulling the blanket and a pillow from it, and joining him on the floor. Not because she pitied him. But because she couldn’t stand the thought of him being alone.

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“Goodnight, my love.”

My love.

Mirage had been so distracted by the surreal nature of her situation that she barely noticed him say it as he left. It had fallen from his lips so nonchalantly, so effortlessly, like any other word, any other breath. Fasir expressed his affection for her from time to time, but usually in a preachy way - wrapped in reminders of what she, what they, used to be, waxing righteous about how much he wished she were someone else. But tonight was different.

Tonight he was saying goodbye.

The realization sent a chill down Mirage’s spine.

“Urrrghh!!!” she intoned, thoroughly vexed. “Why do I care! I’ve finally cast a spell that Aladdin can’t beat on his own, and the only person who can help him, my oldest nemesis and constant source of torment, is dying! This is good, right?” Mirage stopped, realizing she was pacing.

Nobody gets to claim Fasir’s life but me! Her words from earlier clamored through her mind. It was a lie. She knew it then, and she knew it now. They had been at each other’s throats for a thousand years. He had grown wiser over the millenium, but he had also grown older. Frailer. While she had only become more and more powerful. At some point in his aging, he crossed a threshold at which she could have taken him on and won. And it wasn’t recent - She probably could have killed him a hundred or more years ago.

So why hadn’t she?

Cat and mouse, the voice reasoned for her. You just enjoy the game. Don’t overthink it.

Mirage walked to the window and reached a finger through the drafty hole between it and the wall. An invisible magical force zapped her lightly before her claw crossed the boundary to the outside. Fasir’s spell held, and she had used what little magic she had left to heal him. Gods, she was tired.

Mirage turned to look at the bed. She was immortal and didn’t need sleep in the same way as those weakling mortals did. But her fatigue, mixed with the boredom bred from a lack of magic and innocents to toy with, was starting to grate on her sanity.

Don’t degrade yourself to the bed where you used to defile yourself with that priggish moralizer.

“It’s that or degrade myself by sleeping on the floor,” Mirage snapped, slowly growing irritated by the resurgence of the voice that had once guided her.

I’d rather not sleep at all.

“Then don’t,” Mirage scowled as she approached the bed. She sat on it quickly, as if the act was akin to ripping off a bandage. When she didn’t burst into flames on contact, she allowed herself to fall back onto it, her exhausted frame giving a slight bounce before sinking into the comfort of the linen covers.

“There, see? We’re still alive,” Mirage mocked the voice, which hissed back at her. But Mirage stopped there - laying parallel to the headboard, legs dangling off the edge. She couldn’t bring herself to commit to using the bed as intended, as she used to all those distant years ago.

She closed her eyes then, the slight act already giving her a modicum of respite from the weight of the day.

But as she drifted off, one thing still plagued her: Even if the voice was right -  even if she did only tolerate Fasir’s antics for love of the game - every game has to end at some point. A victor has to be declared. And she was so close to the win… So where was this feeling coming from?

This feeling of loss.

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Author’s Note: Ahhh!! I just officially changed the “?” to a number! It’s bittersweet, but I just reached the end of the story in my google doc <3 In two weeks, you will have the conclusion to this grand adventure!

Also: I forgot to make a note in Chapter 44 when Aladdin was giving a performance of his adventure with the Riders of Ramond: That’s the adventure from the episode “The Sands of Fate.” It comes up again in this chapter and adds some nice lore, so feel free to watch the ep if you want the extra context!

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Aladdin blushed then tilted his head with an insinuative smirk. “Whoever it was sounds pretty talented.”

Jasmine gave him a playful leer from the far end of the roof.

“Speaking of ‘mystery teachers…’” Aladdin approached her, took her hand, and gently helped her into a sitting position at the edge so that her legs dangled over the side of the tower. “Now that I’ve got you trapped up here, I think it might be time to make you fill in some blanks.”

Aladdin took his seat beside her and turned to her for an answer, but she just gazed ahead, jaw slightly ajar. Aladdin followed her gaze. “Wow,” he breathed. The full moon cast a faintly ethereal glow on the jewel-toned buildings sprawled before them. In the distance ahead, they could see the tiny flickering orange dots of torches moving up onto the hills, the celebrants’ faraway sounds of excitement blending with the sounds of swaying palms. To one side, a short ways away, they could see the river, its moving water carrying a constant glitter of opalescent white. On the other side, way off in the horizon was the edge of the black shadow of sprawling desert.

“You were right,” Jasmine swooned at the magic of it all. “This was a great idea.” Before Aladdin could answer, a chilly breeze blew over them from the river. Jasmine tried to hide it, but Aladdin noticed the slight shiver.

“You’re cold!” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

Jasmine started to protest, but by the time she opened her mouth, he was already bounding off to another roof. She smiled with a slight eye-roll and returned to the view before her. Alone with her thoughts for the first time all day, she remembered something. She reached into her satchel and pulled it out - the small wooden comb from the temple. Her blessing. She hadn’t had the chance to receive it earlier. Jasmine flipped it over in her hand, unsure of how exactly to receive the message, but when she flipped it back over, the comb was glowing an astral blue.  Within the glow, as if painted in black, across the comb’s teeth appeared two circles - one surrounded by nebulous rays, and the other marked with soft, faint shadows.

“The sun and the moon,” Jasmine whispered to herself with a hint of realization. She returned her gaze to the moon in the sky and saw it - the hint of red starting to make its way onto the white glow. Her eyes grew wide, and she drew in a deep breath. An eclipse. The words from Aladdin’s story the night before echoed in her mind: No curse can stand a chance against the sun and the moon. She wondered… Did he know? She looked back at the comb to see that it had returned to its original simple form.

That’s when she felt a set of hands softly but firmly drape a blanket around her. She turned to see - it was Aladdin - her sun, there to keep his moon warm. The comfort of it all soothed her to her core as he playfully hopped back into his seat on the edge beside her.

“Another of your borrowed finds?” Jasmine teased.

Aladdin shrugged. “I’m nothing if not resourceful.”

After a moment of silence, she spoke, “Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse before?”

“Once when I was a kid. Why?” Jasmine gave a soft upward nod, and Aladdin lifted his gaze to crimson stain slowly seeping onto the moon’s white face. With a hint of awe, he exclaimed, “How about that!” He turned to smile at the princess beside him. “Just when I thought the night couldn’t get any better.” She smiled sweetly back. “Oh!” Aladdin jolted slightly. “I keep forgetting.” He dug into several pockets inside his robe, panicking for a moment that it had fallen out during his heroics. “Aha!” He found it, holding it out to her heroically.

“My ring!” Jasmine instinctively touched her naked ring finger. She had resigned herself to believing she would never see it again.

Aladdin placed it into her hand, and she slid it back onto her wedding finger, where it belonged. Aladdin spoke, “Kieran gave it to me this morning. He said he found it on me when he treated my wounds. I guess the ‘other me’ is a little bit of a thief too,” he said with a smirk.

Jasmine let out a small laugh, “No. Well, yes, but… I left it behind for him… for you… to find me, when Daru captured me.”

“A breadcrumb,” Aladdin understood. “Something he… something I… was sure to recognize.”

Jasmine nodded, bittersweetly brushing the sapphire with her thumb, realizing how desperately she had wanted, needed, this time to finally be alone with him, without threat of danger.

But she also realized she was running out of time until midnight, so she restarted the earlier conversation: “You said you wanted answers. To fill the gaps. I’ve told some… untruths… for the sake of getting you to trust me. Which I realize sounds a little bit backwards.”

Aladdin liked to think himself clever. He could tell when he was being lied to, and some of the fibs she had told him were kind of obvious, sometimes even wildly contradictory. But they weren’t malicious. If the roles were reversed, he thought… If he had to help someone who had forgotten who they were, would he jump right in with a synopsis of their life? Probably not. Would he lie? Well… He had been known to lie about far less.

“Before I ruin the night with an interrogation,” he said with a sideways smile, “We’ve been through a lot this week, and… And I just want you to know that today has been the best day of my life.”

Jasmine only gave a sad smile in response. The day had been just about perfect, but she wished he could remember so many other days that had been just as wonderful, if not more.

Aladdin hesitated before speaking again. “I… want to know about the ring.” He paused before pressing on. “You wear it on your left… What’s… Who…?” He trailed off, too self-conscious to finish the sentence, simultaneously terrified of and eager for the answer.

Jasmine thought of the first time they had met. The setup wasn’t terribly different. She had run away from the threat of an arranged marriage, and Aladdin had taken her somewhere safe, high up in their city, almost a rooftop. The view was a bit different, but the company was still warm. He had leaned in to kiss her that evening all those years ago, and she’s sure their lips would have met if they hadn’t been interrupted by the guards.

But he didn’t know she was royalty then. He had thought he was flirting with a fellow citizen. The Aladdin sitting next to her on the rooftop now, watching the eclipse with her, knew she was the princess of Agrabah and believed himself to be a lowly pauper. He was aware of the divide. After all they had been through that week, even after her admission about the morning he woke up next to her… did he still feel the gap between street rat and princess? Did he really not know who he was to her?

The sun and the moon, the thought whispered through her, and she gazed up at the growing eclipse, then back into Aladdin’s waiting eyes, glimmering with anticipation for what her answer would bring. She slowly, gently took his left hand and brushed a thumb on the ring that still adorned his own finger. “I think you already know,” she half-whispered.

Aladdin met her gaze with a slightly furrowed brow, his eyes gleaming like they had in the candlelight at their wedding. Jasmine felt she could collapse from desire in that moment, as if the love lingering between them were two threads, drawing them slowly, stitching them together. One corner of Aladdin’s lips turned up slightly. Without removing his gaze from her, he tenderly reached for her mask - gently, slowly removing it and setting it aside. The night sky shone in her eyes, and the glow of the eclipse glinted off her earrings and the beads strung across her brow, framing her face in starlight. He was utterly spellbound.

Jasmine spoke weakly, the quiver in her voice betraying her. “Are there more questions?”

“No,” Aladdin spoke softly back. “I think…” Aladdin leaned in, just like he had in his hovel all those years ago, and breathed onto her lips: “You are the answer to all of them.” He closed his eyes and brushed his lips against hers. Then, with the softest hint of urgency, he pressed in, kissing her with gentle warmth and passion. They could both feel it - the magic pulsing through them, the enchantment in the air smelling sweet and glittered with stardust. Aladdin’s memories filled him, but not like they had in nights past - this was different, like a fountain filling a vase with golden reveries. Memories of their first meeting, their first ascent into the sky, years of adventure and growing together, their wedding, their wedding night...

“Jasmine,” Aladdin whispered, withdrawing for a moment, his chest heaving slightly as he breathed, his brow resting against hers, his hand cupping her cheek. “I remember. I remember everything,” he spoke, his words warm on her lips. “Please tell me you still remember. Please tell me it’s not because it’s midnight.”

“Yes,” she smiled blissfully. “I still remem–”

Remember was too long a word. Aladdin couldn’t wait. He pulled her in again, this time with more zeal, thrusting his lips onto hers, kissing her deeper again and again, his tongue finding hers, drinking from her love like it was water after a week in the desert. “I love you,” he moaned as he moved to her jawline, painting it with ardent kisses. The blanket fell from her as he slowly moved his lips down to her neck with a slight groan, drawing out a euphoric gasp.

Her response thrilled him further, and he moved to slip the robe off her shoulders, his palm sliding across her smooth skin. She protested with a whisper of his name, “Aladdin.” But he misunderstood her tone for encouragement and reached his other arm around her waist to pull her closer, his lips moving to her collar bone and descending. “Aladdin, stop!” she cried out. Aladdin stopped suddenly, quickly releasing her and facing her with alarm. Her eyes were wide and trance-like, her voice nearly crying: “I’m forgetting. The memories… They’re slipping away.”

“No!” Aladdin cried, frantically cupping her face. “No! We broke the spell! Jasmine, come back!”

As he spoke, the midnight fireworks started, and Aladdin could physically see the glimmer in Jasmine’s eyes change. He watched helplessly as she reverted back to her amnesic self, and swiftly withdrew his hands from her face. Midnight had come once more, and it had stolen his wife from him. Again. No. Aladdin’s heart felt as if it would crumble to dust.

Jasmine startled, suddenly realizing she was sitting on the edge of a tower. Aladdin reached to steady her as she whipped her head around to gain her bearings. Aladdin fixed the robe back onto her shoulder as she started to realize she was safe. She turned to face him. He stared back, the fireworks lighting up her face with reds and golds. “Are you okay?” Jasmine asked her wide-eyed companion. Her eyes traveled up to his brow with a smirk. “What’s with the hat?”

She doesn’t remember any of it, he thought, frozen with heartbreak. But seven deserts, did he remember. His lips still tingled with the feeling of her skin, and the sound of her eager breaths still echoed inside his mind. Some remote part of him looked at this woman beside him and hated her. She had stolen away the woman he loved. But also... somehow… she was the woman he loved.

Just then, Carpet flew up to them, interrupting the tense, fireworks-filled moment with his frantic gesticulating.

“Carpet! What’s wrong?” Jasmine asked with a hint of alarm.

Carpet gave up on the charades and flattened out, urging them to climb aboard.

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“There,” Mirage stepped back to look at her stand, admiring her handiwork while ignoring the idea that doing something with her own hands maybe was a little bit, in a way… somewhat rewarding.

The villainess waited all morning for the heroes to walk by her stand, sensing their nearness and trying not to grow impatient at the snails’ pace with which they must have been moving. “Hamsa” was selling some (non-poisonous) pistachio pastries to a family when she saw her target, over her customers’ shoulders. The royal couple, the monkey, and the Genie were traipsing through the market without a care, picking carelessly at a large to-go container of snacks and pastries.

Mirage groaned to herself. Of course I choose to sell the one obvious thing they already have. They stopped at a stand close enough to her that she could overhear Aladdin say something to the disguised Genie. She could just barely make out, “A beautiful flower or something.”

Mirage beamed. If she could just gather enough magic... The mask was so close. She could see the satchel that held it, strewn across the princess’s breast, and she could barely muster up a spark for a spell. But she tried again and again, straining against the drain of the nearby relic, and after a few painful moments and a labored wave of her hand, all of her pastries became flowers. The evil elemental reeled from the effort of what normally would have been an effortless spell, hands on her knees, catching her breath from the exertion, suddenly feeling impossibly thirsty. She looked over to the street rat. The princess was making him try on some awful turban. Mirage stepped away from her stand and started walking. She certainly didn’t have the energy to conjure up a cup of water, but she figured the princess’s obnoxious shopping habits should buy her a moment to buy one or find–

“The fountain,” Mirage whispered to herself as she saw it. A great, round fountain in the middle of the city’s square. Ancient and charming, with crystal clear water springing happily from its center. It struck as her as strangely… familiar.

“I’ve been here before,” Mirage spoke to only herself, walking towards the water as if in a trance. She sat at the fountain’s stone edge and leaned over to take a drink when she saw her reflection.

No. Someone else’s reflection.

She was young and lovely. Human. With gold beads adorning black dreads and a strange mix of spark and sadness in her eyes…

“No!” Mirage fell away from the fountain, startled. The world around her felt like it was spinning, the sound of oblivious revelers melting into a cacophonous din, as she realized for the first time since she had arrived that morning where she was. How could she not realize it before?

Mirage threw herself back at the edge of the fountain, splashing water in her face. Her reflection returned to accurately reflect her disguise. She took a breath and steadied herself, regaining her bearings. She had been here before. Lived here. Loved here. The buildings had been rebuilt, probably multiple times in the last thousand years, but the layout was the same. And somehow, the fountain was the same. It was in that very spot that she had first discovered that she could love, the golden threads twinkling between her and her mystic. The first kiss that led to a night of passion had been there. Beyond the fountain was the corner where she had first seen him. Like a ghost, Mirage could almost see the blindfolded young cyclops healing the bent tail of a kitten and–

Splash. Splash.

Mirage furiously assaulted her own face with more water. Snap out of it, Mirage! Get a grip. You’re here to kill the street rat and disprove true love.

Ignoring the side-eyes from onlookers, the villainess dried off her face and regained her composure. A glance back at the market showed a small gang of brats stealing a bunch of flowers from her stand - the flowers she had so painstakingly conjured.

“Hey, get away from my wares!” she hollered, rushing towards them. They fled like a startled flock of birds, leaving the blooms to be trampled by the heedless crowd of citizens and tourists. As Mirage’s blood pressure lowered, she looked around and realized the princess and the street rat were gone.

With balled fists and gritted teeth, she followed the crowd back towards the square, looking every which way for the illusive heroes, but saw no sign of them.

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Fasir sat on a bench outside of the temple of Mamun-Ra, the place of worship where he once studied. The place where his gift of Sight had blossomed. Despite it being the scene of a small handful of unpleasant memories, the place largely made him feel at peace. Like a home. Nearly a thousand years ago, he had dedicated a significant amount of time preparing for a Feast of Mamun-Ra. Had helped adorn the temple with flags and bouquets, had blessed hundreds of favors for the celebrants. But he hadn’t been able to stay to see the fruits of his labor. That was the fateful day he realized the truth about Nefera. The day she left him in the desert.

Sitting there, he reveled in watching the celebrants mosey into the temple courtyard - mouths agape in awe of its splendor and the ornateness of the festive decor, children running with unbridled excitement to pick out a blessing, lovers hoping their blessing would carry some sort of promise for their futures. Nobody paid him any heed, as he rested silently, dressed like a beggar with no cup. It was for the better that he blended in. He needed to save what little energy he had left. The mask was nearby. He could feel its effect on his magic. And it was coming closer. He had Seen that the royal couple would visit the temple, and he could feel their presence as they finally crossed the threshold, sending a wave of hope to his heart.

“Fasir!” Jasmine recognized him immediately. He slowly rose to his feet as they approached.

“Aladdin, this is Fasir,” the princess smiled.

“Ah yes, we have met,” Fasir said, despite Aladdin’s memory not making the connection. “Many times. Have you chosen a blessing yet?”

“A blessing?” Aladdin asked.

Fasir watched with a serene smile as the Genie, disguised as a human, explained the ritual to his friends and encouraged them to find their blessings. As they innocently explored the courtyard, Fasir sensed a dark presence nearby. One he had grown all too familiar with over the last millennium.

She was near.

He was too weak to use his gift of Sight in such close proximity to the magic-weakening mask. But he felt her getting closer and closer in such a way that he knew she was walking towards the temple.

“Badr!” Fasir called across the busy courtyard, before falling into a brief coughing fit from the exertion on his throat.

Jasmine hurried to his side. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he wheezed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know if I should call you by your real name when–”

“It’s okay,” Jasmine steadied him. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“Mirage is in the city. She’s heading this way. I can take care of her, but I will need my strength to do it. You and your friends need to take the mask to the other side of the city. There is an amphitheatre there where you will find an open-air performance. I won’t need long, but you are free to stay and watch the show.” He coughed again. “Enjoy the festival. And,” he added with a weak hint of playfulness, “maybe you can find it in yourselves to finally kiss each other? I would greatly appreciate it.”

Jasmine blushed.

“I will find you tonight when the time is right. Follow the road northwest. And quickly.”

“But Fasir,” Jasmine grew quiet, noticing Aladdin and Genie starting to head back towards them, “what about your strength?”

“I can hold my part of the spell,” Fasir breathed, “at least until midnight.” He turned his head towards the gate. “She is almost here. You must go! Run!”

The seer watched as the group of heroes ran from the temple, narrowly avoiding the attention of a mysterious brunette woman entering his view in the distance. He knew it was her the closer she got. She could disguise every molecule in her body. But no amount of time or magic could change the way the corner of her lips turned up in that resting involuntary grin, or the way her hips swayed like a pendulum as she walked. Despite himself, he found that he was grinning as she entered.

But another force was also looming nearby - one that made the hair on his neck stand up. An ancient darkness that he felt so close to recognizing. He remained aware of its proximity as he watched the disguised Mirage traipse around the temple courtyard.

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Mirage had come to the temple in search of that unendurable band of heroes. They had been there - she could smell it. But the moment she stepped from the dirt road and onto the stone floor of the temple courtyard, a strange sense drifted through her like a mist. The air had the essence of magic, but it wasn’t. No, it felt more like… fate. Unwilling to be scared off by a mere sensation, Mirage took another step into the yard and felt oddly drawn to the visual cacophony that was the haphazardly arranged favors.

The air of joy, togetherness, and hope for the future tasted bitter in her mouth. It had been centuries since she walked among such a happy gathering with no intention to ruin it. The feeling was foreign, but oddly… bearable. After a minute of examining the scene, she found herself drawn to a bouquet in the window. There were many flowers adorning the pane, but one in particular stood out - like a bluejay in a swarm of sparrows. It was black with a line of brilliant purple slashing down the center of each petal, with a glowing blue stamen topped with bright pink anthers.

“That flower has been there, fully bloomed, rain or shine, for nearly a thousand years,” a robed, hooded temple attendant noticed Mirage’s fascination with it. “They say the mystic who put it there had one person in mind, and that it would be there until that person plucks it.” The robed figure sighed. “But of course nobody lives that long. That flower will likely be there until the earth fades away. Perhaps longer.”

That strange sensation flooded over the disguised Mirage once again, but this time stronger. It was as if the flower were calling to her, and a part of her sensed that it was waiting… for her. Fear of the embarrassment of potentially being wrong caused a slight tremble in her hand as she slowly reached for the bloom. Her fingers reached behind it, gently grasping the stem, and pulling it from the bouquet with ease. Without thinking, she brought the flower to her nose, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply the scent of its essence.

When she opened her eyes, the temple courtyard was empty and quiet.

“My love,” a voice sounded from the air around her. The voice sent needles up and down her spine, every hair on her body standing at attention, as if she had heard a ghost. That voice… She knew that voice.

“My studies are nearly done at the temple. The time is coming for me to see more of the world and to learn its mysteries. But I can’t imagine doing any of it without the other end of my golden thread.”

Mirage’s stomach dropped. “Fasir,” she whispered, as if in a daze. The voice was young and hopeful, but it  was tinged with the same stoic rasp that her thousand-year-old foe still carried.

“Come with me, my love,” the illusive voice of a young Fasir continued. “Let me fill your life with magic and fulfilled promises. We will start with the right way to do the healing spell.” He chuckled: “With you wielding that power, I’m sure the world will never know sickness again.” The voice paused to reorient back to its original tone of sincerity. “Be my partner in goodness. In magic. In life. No matter your answer, may my blessing to you be my everlasting ardor. A cyclop’s lifetime of trueness to the woman he loves.”

Before Mirage could process what she had just heard, the scene snapped back to the busy temple courtyard.

“I thought it might be you,” the hooded figure uttered with a grin. Mirage snapped back to reality to face the speaker. “You can change your face, but the smell of moral rot and sin betray you.”

“Excuse me?” Mirage furrowed her brow and crossed her arms in indignation. If she had felt strong enough, she would have smote her offender then and there. The mysterious woman removed her hood, revealing a gaunt, time-weathered face, chin-length silver hair, and a gruesomely scarred neck. Mirage squinted irritably at the strangely familiar woman before her before widening her eyes in recognition.

“Mamoura?”

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Fasir watched as Mirage sauntered over to the window on the side of the wall against which he was seated. A woman in a hooded cloak appeared from the crowd and slowly followed after her. She was shrouded in shadow, and Fasir could sense that she was the source of the dark energy he had felt. Mirage was more likely to make allies out of such beings, rather than foes, so he prepared himself for the potential of taking them on together.

But then, Mirage reached for a flower in the window. At first he thought nothing of it, just that such a gentle move was unlike her. I guess even evil incarnate has a blessing here, he chuckled to himself. But as she stood still and wide-eyed, likely listening to whatever good fortune some temple mage had bestowed upon the flower, he was struck with a memory:

It was black with a dash of purple cutting down each petal, a bright blue stamen with hot pink tips bursting joyfully out of the center. He thought it suited her and had spoken a promise of a lifetime of love and adventure over it.

Fasir’s eye widened beneath his blindfold as he realized… Somehow his blessing from a millennium ago was still there. It had waited for her. As he had.

His trance was broken by a sudden movement by the cloaked figure.

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Mamoura lunged for Mirage, grasping her wrist, which hissed with a burn at her touch.

“Manus Multorum!” the Priestess exclaimed before Mirage could even react. In seconds, at least a dozen other cloaked figures faced her and removed their hoods. “Fige Umbra!” Mamoura ordered, and they all directed beams of blue magic at Mirage.

“What!” Mirage protested as her body became paralyzed by an assault of glowing streams of magic, wrapping around her like thick rope and pulling her to the center of the circle they were forming. Bystanders grabbed their loved ones and fled.

“Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?!” Mirage roared, trying to hide how hard she was struggling against their combined force. If I hadn’t exerted so much magic in the market... She tried to save some magic by dropping the cloaking spell and returning to her catlike form, but it did very little. Maybe if she could–

“Our magic! It’s weakening!” one of the mages called out incredulously.

Mamoura scanned the scene to see that it was true - the blue light of their magic was dimming. Not willing to let the opportunity pass, she pulled a dagger from her cloak. “RAAAAHH!” She sounded a furious battle cry and raced towards Mirage with the energy of a demon, both hands clasping the curved blade above her head. Mirage tried desperately to escape her bondings, but the magic of her attackers hadn’t weakened enough to allow it.

Just as Marmoura’s blade slashed down, Mirage squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for what may be her end. 

“NO!” another voice cried out. Mirage felt a gust of wind, and fell to the ground, eyes still held tightly shut. But instead of the sting of a blade, she felt only the cold of the floor. There was no more yelling, only the sound of someone else’s labored breathing.

Mirage hesitantly opened one eye. Then the other. She was no longer at the temple. She was in a one-room apartment. There was an unmade bed. Shabby curtains hung over a drafty window. A cup sat on the table. It all seemed strangely fa–

A haggard cough broke her from her bewilderment. She snapped her head to see him, lying on the floor, blood on his hands. It was unclear where the blood was coming from, but there was a lot of it.

“Fasir!” Mirage started to hurry to him then caught herself. What am I doing? She stared at her bleeding nemesis for a moment, feeling a foreign cocktail of conflicting emotions.

Yes, this is what you wanted.

Mirage hadn’t heard the voice that audibly in nearly a thousand years, and she paused to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. But the shiver making its way down her spine told her it was all too real.

Make yourself some tea. Let him bleed out. It will be slow. It will be painful. It will be *delicious.*

“Won’t you shut up and let me think!” Mirage blurted out before realizing how silly she must have looked, apparently snapping at nobody in particular. She approached the bleeding mystic and saw the gash in his side, bringing back the memory of another time he had a similar wound, lying in a similar position, entirely at her mercy.

Mirage thought, in her own voice: He put himself in front of Mamoura’s blade in order to bring me here.

Fasir was clearly in considerable pain, and she felt a bewildering lack of pleasure at the realization of it.

The voice objected to the hint of pity: Don’t make the same mistake now that you made on the river. That wretched priestess has handed you your lifelong nemesis on a silver platter. Cherish the gift.

“No!” Mirage seethed out loud. “Nobody gets to claim Fasir’s life but me! Especially that witch,” she spat. She closed her eyes to get a feel for how much magic she had within her. Wherever they were, they were far enough from the mask that she thought she could pull it off. With a fair amount of concentration, she uttered the healing spell that Fasir had taught her over a thousand years ago, the words soft and familiar as they fell from her feline mouth. She waved her hand as if she were dismissing him, and the spell dropped from her fingers and onto his wound, instantly healing it.

“As you can see,” Mirage opened her eyes and gloated, hiding the toll of her exertion as Fasir placed a hand on his closed wound, “I’ve gotten a lot better at that one. Side effects shouldn’t include an extra thousand years added to your life.” She rolled her eyes. “Gods, wouldn’t that be just what I need.”

“I assure you,” Fasir wheezed as he weakly got to his feet and stumbled his way into a chair at the table. “That would be even less appealing to me.”

“Why did you rescue me?” Mirage demanded, crossing her arms with indignance.

Fasir managed a faint chuckle. “Nobody gets to claim the Mystical Mirage’s life but me.” He coughed. “Especially that witch.”

“Hmph,” Mirage turned her face away to hide that his humor had affected her, and she suddenly found herself looking in the mirror on the wall. For a split second, her reflection portrayed a scourge-covered temple maiden. Then it flashed back to show her in her usual catlike form. Mirage gasped with a sudden realization. “This place.” She snapped her head back to Fasir. “You’ve taken me back to your old apartment!”

“Our apartment,” he corrected.

Mirage rolled her eyes. Gods, it was strange hearing his voice old and haggard, just minutes after hearing it young and optimistic. “Don’t tell me you’ve been paying rent for this place for a thousand years.”

Fasir only answered with a slight rise of the corner of his lip.

Mirage scoffed incredulously. “Honestly, Fasir - of all the ridiculous… You could have bought the place with all that money!” She spread her arms in disbelief. “Many times over!”

“Yes, but then I’d have to keep up with the landscaping.”

“But there’s no–” Mirage started to object then caught herself. It was a joke. He was joking.

“Well I suppose I’m your prisoner here then?” she sighed with resignation, realizing it wasn’t safe to leave, having neither the power to defend herself or teleport back to her lair.

“The perimeter is enchanted,” Fasir said. “Only I can come and go.”

Mirage looked around and realized he must have cast the spell a thousand years ago. There was not a single cobweb, no more dust than what was normal for a lived-in space. The curtains had faded from sun exposure, but nothing else had moved or changed since she left that morning so long ago.

Fasir nodded to the empty chair at the table across from him. After a moment, Mirage rolled her eyes and took the seat.

The two sat there, at their old table, in complete silence. The light of evening started to dim, and the muted sound of a celebrating city seeped in through the draft in the window.

After a time, Mirage spoke first, “So I suppose you’ve seen how it all ends… The demise of the Mystical Mirage,” she said with a hint of irony.

Fasir paused, then looked away. “Yes.”

“You hesitated,” Mirage leaned forward with intrigue. “You’re hiding something.” A sly smile spread across her face. “This is a multiple-possible-futures vision, isn’t it?” When Fasir didn’t answer, Mirage leaned back in her seat with a cackle. “For a thousand years… You’ve been taunting me with your certainty. But you haven’t been walking around with certainty. You’ve been walking around with hope!” She laughed. “You always were a fool.”

“What did Mamoura say to you before she and the other millenigenarians struck?” Fasir changed the subject.

“Millenigenarians? They were all millenigenarians?” Mirage scoffed. “All of those cowards were people I healed a thousand years ago?”

Fasir nodded. “You healed more than a few people, if you recall.”

“Stupid little temple maiden,” she spat.

“Ahh,” Fasir drew out. “If only somebody had told her not to use that spell without studying it first.”

Mirage glared at him. “If only somebody had respected her enough to teach her instead of treating her like a child!” Mirage yelled before remembering herself. “How pathetic are they anyway?” she deflected. “Can you imagine! Carrying around a grudge like that for a thousand years!”

“Yes, how strange,” Fasir stung in a mocking tone.

Mirage caught his insinuation and discontinued her diatribe, replacing it with a scowl.

Fasir got up and weakly made his way to the door.

“You’re leaving?” Mirage asked with more disappointment than she intended.

“I am tired. And as you can see, there is only one bed.” He teased: “Unless you mean to infer–”

Mirage interrupted him with a hiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Fasir spoke as he opened the door, “if I make it through the night.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure you’ll be there,” Mirage spat. “To relish the moment of my demise, no doubt.”

“No,” he spoke sternly. “I’d be there… so you won’t be alone.”

Mirage crossed her arms, as if the defensive motion could block the sincerity of his words from affecting her.

“Goodnight, my love,” Fasir uttered before walking out. “I will see you tomorrow.” With that, he gently closed the door and was gone. There was something in the way he said it. Something in the fading of his voice and the shrinking of his gait.

He wasn’t sure he actually would.

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“First time in Suketra?” Hala grinned knowingly. “Come to celebrate the Feast of Mamun-Ra? Let me save you the time of shopping around. Hala has the best masks in the whole city. And the best prices! They are all made by myself and my family. Come. I know just the one for you.”

Jasmine followed the seller to the other side of the stall, and Genie and Aladdin stayed put, where the sound of the merchant’s sales pitch to the princess blended in with the rest of the sellers and buyers on the crowded street.

“So I’ve come to accept that I’m not gonna get her full story any time soon,” Aladdin nodded, arms crossed, to the shopping princess. “But what about you? How does a Genie fit into this picture?”

“Well,” Genie started, “that’s a long story too.”

Aladdin chuckled with a nod to Jasmine, indecisively trying on an array of masks. “Something tells me we have time.”

“Well…” Genie started, “I wasn’t always like this.”

“Like what?” Aladdin turned to the stall and absentmindedly started picking up masks, looking at them for a moment, and setting them back down. “Following princesses and cursed peasants across the desert?”

“Well… yeahhh,” Genie conceded, “but I mean… Free.”

“Not free? You were trapped?”

Genie let out a small laugh. “Right, I forgot how little you knew about genies.” He picked up a mask that was purple, gold, and green and held it up to his face. “What do you think? Too Mardi Gras?”

Aladdin shook his head slightly, brow raised.

Genie put it back, “Genies are slaves. Bound to our containers, servants to whoever finds us. How about this one?” He picked up a decadent white mask, excessively bedazzled with feathers and fake silver baubles, before looking at it with disapproval. “I don’t know. It’s a little, ‘Married by a Fake Elvis.’” He set it down and continued, “So that’s how it was for thousands upon thousands of years… until I met my last master.” He picked up a mask that had broken in half and held one piece up to the right side of his face. He shivered and put it down. “Nope. It’s giving ‘deranged opera house basement dweller.’”

Aladdin picked up a mask that was black with deep violet swirls and a gold trim. It was tasteful, neither gauche nor plain, and it matched the robe he donned that day.

“Anyway, as slave to the lamp, I was bound to grant my master any three wishes. And he used his third wish to set me free,” Genie said with a sentimental smile.

Aladdin put the mask on, fitting it comfortably over his nose, and asked, “Who was he?”

Genie held up a mirror for Aladdin, and the thief inspected his masked face as Genie answered: “A diamond in the rough.”

Aladdin began to pick up a hint of insinuation in Genie’s answer when Jasmine interrupted, “What do you think?” She approached them, donning a delicate mask. It was a deep violet and carved in such a way to resemble lace, with just a touch of dainty flecks of gold and three small black feathers in one corner.

Aladdin’s face lit up at the sight of her, “It suits you!”

“So does yours!” the princess beamed. “And it matches mine!”

“Oh!” Aladdin forgot he was wearing a mask and took it off to look at it. “Yeah! I guess it does!”

“And I found the perfect one for Genie,” she held up a Genie-blue mask with black trim and red ribbon.

“Now that’s a woman with an eye for fashion!” Genie eagerly took the mask from her hands and slapped it onto his face.

“And one for the monkey! On the house,” Hala handed a tiny purple mask to Abu, who excitedly took the gift before turning to admire himself in Genie’s mirror.

“Looking good, Abu!” Aladdin smiled before Jasmine grabbed his arm and excitedly led him to another vendor. And so they moseyed down the market, taking their time in the sunshine, trying every food and admiring the homemade wares. Aladdin wasn’t accustomed to shopping, as he rarely found himself in a position to honestly barter for goods with his own earnings, but the princess perused and bartered like she was born to. It was another thing that contradicted her initial story of never having left the palace, but Aladdin was willing to suspend his disbelief in favor of enjoying the warmth and safety of her presence. And to simply exist together as regular people, among regular people, on a beautiful day.

“Genie,” Aladdin turned to the magical being while Jasmine was distracted. “I want to get her something nice. But nothing here is speaking to me. Something simple but thoughtful, modest but deserving of a princess. Like a beautiful flower or something.”

“Ooo, good idea,” Genie said as he started to look around.

Aladdin turned his head every which way, feeling overwhelmed by the variety of options - jewelry, pastries, sugared dates, rare spices, hand embroidered kerchiefs - but nothing seemed right. That’s when he saw it - a quaint but colorful flower stand a couple stalls down that he could have sworn wasn’t there a moment ago…

“Aladdin,” Jasmine broke his train of thought. He turned to see her grimacing shyly, raising a garish puce and lime green turban with lavish gold trim, a glaringly fake ruby, and a yellow feather. She whispered as he bowed so she could crown him with it, “The shop owner insisted you try it on.” She awkwardly held a mirror up to him. “You don’t have to–”

“We’ll take it!” Aladdin grinned, striking an ironically heroic pose at his ostentatious reflection. The turban was ridiculous on its own, but in contrast with his darker-hued mask and robe, it was simply ludicrous.

Jasmine raised a brow, “What–”

“And we’ll take this one too!” Aladdin grabbed another, smaller but equally gaudy hat and playfully fit it onto Jasmine’s head before she had time to react. He held a mirror to her, and she put a hand to her mouth, trying to contain her laughter so as to not offend the hatmaker. Aladdin paid the vendor and held his arm out to Jasmine with playful bravado, “Come, princess. The people must know that the royals of Ababwa only adorn themselves with the highest symbols of fashion.”

Jasmine linked her arm in his with a giggle and let him lead her out of the market and onto the next part of the city.

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The city square was booming with performers, artists, and hawkers. The motley band of heroes made their way across it, wide-eyed at the array of characters and professions, and looking very much like tourists.

Across the center, the road carried them up a hill to the temple, which Hala had told Jasmine she “must visit” before sundown.

“The Temple of Mamun-Ra,” Genie read aloud as they approached the gates. “The festival’s namesake!”

The exterior of the temple was looming but friendly, a sacred space built of sandstone, with a modest flower-bedecked window on the left and intricately carved double doors at the center. People of all ages were wandering about the courtyard, examining the exorbitant amount of adornments, foods, and tchotchkes strewn about in barely-organized chaos. But one person in particular caught Jasmine’s eye - an ancient being dressed in modest grey, a blindfold tied below his snow-white hair.

“Fasir!” Jasmine called, grabbing Aladdin by the hand and leading him across the courtyard to where Fasir was slowly rising from his seat.

“Aladdin, this is Fasir,” the princess smiled.

Aladdin took a good look at the mystic and decided that he looked exactly as he had pictured.

“Ah yes, we have met,” Fasir grinned. “Many times,” Fasir continued before motioning to the heavily-embellished temple wall. “Have you chosen a blessing yet?”

“A blessing?” Aladdin asked.

“Oh! I’ve heard of this ritual!” Genie beamed. “Every time a solstice and a full moon align, the temple-dwellers leave little blessings in the form of a flower, a chocolate, a pennant, etcetera! Kind of like a fortune cookie, except it’s for your eyes only.” Genie reached for a solid-colored pennant and scanned it as if reading something only he could see. “Oohh yeah! That’s a good one!” He folded it and stashed it in his vest.

“What did yours say?” Jasmine asked curiously.

“Nope! Not allowed to tell!” Genie protested smugly.

“Ehh,” Aladdin skeptically waved the concept away. “They probably make them all so that they apply to everybody.”

“After all you’ve been through this week, you’re not willing to believe in a little magic?” Jasmine raised a brow.

“Well, no obviously I–”

“I’m going to find the perfect one for me,” Jasmine interrupted, obstinately turning to walk along the temple wall.

“Maybe we should…” Aladdin trailed off, looking back to Fasir, who motioned for him to follow the princess.

“I will be here,” Fasir stated resolutely.

Aladdin shrugged and turned, “Okay, guess I’ll find my ‘blessing’ too.” For a few minutes, he followed the princess as she perused the eclectic mess of blessing-endowed objects. The sound of visitors reacting to their blessings mixed with the sounds of children running around looking for the “coolest” or “strangest” blessing, all of it adding to the happy and magical air of the festivities. Abu was quick to choose a pastry as his blessing, scarfing it down before making any attempt to decipher it. After a few minutes of perusing, something stood out to Jasmine - a simple brown comb with a small lotus carved into the corner. She reached for it and started to draw her thumb over it when Fasir called to her in an urgent tone. Jasmine shoved the comb into her satchel - she’d read her blessing later - and made her way back to the seer.

That’s when something caught Aladdin’s eye - it was nothing special at first glance - just a simple loaf of bread, lightly browned and scored with three horizontal lines. But Aladdin felt some inexplicable pull to it. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, not seeing anything particularly interesting about it. Figuring it was his since he touched it, he tore off a piece. Suddenly, as if in response to that action, a sage-like woman’s voice sounded around him:

Love survives a brave goodbye When trusted with the right to fly.

Aladdin turned to Abu, who sat on his shoulder with a golden coin he had found. “Did you hear that, Abu?”

“Uh-uh,” Abu shook his head.

“I guess that was my blessing,” Aladdin uttered softly, to only himself. Not particularly in the mood to start believing in fortunes or deciphering riddles, Aladdin turned towards where Jasmine stood talking to Fasir and started walking towards them. “Guess we’d better check back in with Fasir.”

Jasmine hurried to meet them, grabbing them each by the arm. “He says there’s a show starting at the outdoor theatre. He says we don’t want to miss it. Let’s run!”

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The way to the amphitheatre was a long dash that left the trio out of breath. Jasmine’s sense of urgency unnerved Aladdin, and he once again felt like she was keeping something from him. But he locked it away with the rest of his doubts for the sake of just enjoying the day.

They saw the standing-room-only crowd before they saw the stage. The venue was a sprawling lawn, lined with trees and the remains of ancient pillars. The stage at the end of it looked newly built, except for one surviving archway that read “Amok Mon-Ra.”

“Amok Mon-Ra?” Jasmine grimaced at the name.

“Someone else I’m supposed to know?” Aladdin asked with a tone of slight annoyance.

Jasmine sighed, “We… met him, yes. This must be the ruins of his temple.” The ending of her answer was nearly drowned out by the crowd cheering as the performers walked onto the stage.

The show was a comedy, with impressive acrobats and dramatic painted-on faces. It was certainly worth watching - and it may have even been worth sprinting to the edge of town in masks and ludicrous hats for. After the comedy was a dance act. Then a variety show of musicians. Eventually, Aladdin, Genie, Jasmine, and Abu found themselves a choice spot in the lawn and decided to stay for all of the shows, even sitting and treating themselves to a picnic dinner as the crowd thinned after sunset.

“You kids wanna stay out, or turn in?” Genie asked after the applause for the final act dissipated. “The monkey and I are gonna hit the sack. They said something about fireworks at midnight, and Abu hates fireworks.”

Aladdin and Jasmine looked at each other. Aladdin could tell by Jasmine’s grin that the night wasn’t over for her.

“We’re gonna stay out,” Aladdin answered.

“Okay,” Genie placed a key in each of their hands. “Room 8 at Indima’s Inn. We’ll be on the first floor in Room 1 if you need anything.” Jasmine secured the key in her satchel before Genie looked left, looked right, and poofed away with Abu.

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Aladdin and Jasmine visited one more tourist attraction, the ruins of another temple for a deity named Maukaara. Some of the aesthetics of its surviving pieces looked oddly familiar to Jasmine, reminding her of a certain evil lair she had once found herself transported to. But she kept her thoughts on the matter to herself. According to the legend, a temple handmaiden killed the goddess Maukaara after razing a quarter of the city. A few remaining adherents maintained the ruins and took donations in hopes Maukaara might some day return.

As they left the temple, the night was stretching towards its peak, but Jasmine and Aladdin made no attempt to head back to the hotel, instead choosing to meander the moonlit streets. The streets themselves were quiet, but there was candlelight, chatter, and the strong aroma of feasts coming from the open windows of every home as citizens and visitors stayed up to party until the midnight fireworks show.

A gentle breeze blew through the alleys and roadways, but the masked prince and princess were warmed by each other’s company. Their laughter rang like bells against the clay homes and cobblestoned streets, and their smiles glowed like fireflies. Their fingers brushed against each other like dandelions in a meadow as they walked, sending sweet shivers through their bodies.

After a time, the streets became busy again as people emerged from their homes and started migrating in the same direction. Aladdin and Jasmine looked at each other with raised brows.

“Excuse me,” Jasmine stopped someone. “Where is everyone going?”

“To the hilltops to watch the fireworks!” the citizen answered. “One hour ‘til midnight!”

Something inside Jasmine sank. She had been so distracted by the perfect evening that she had forgotten about Fasir’s private words to her at the temple - that he could only promise to hold the spell until midnight.

“Do you want to see them?” Jasmine asked, not sure what else to say in the moment. “The fireworks?”

Aladdin shrugged playfully, “When in Rome!”

“Okay,” Jasmine turned awkwardly to follow the crowd, but Aladdin grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“Wait!” He grinned with mischievous charm. “I have a better idea.”

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Aladdin was more of an early-riser, and Jasmine knew that he was sure to wake up in a panic again. Figuring she had done that to him enough on this adventure, she had Genie set an alarm to wake her just before sunrise so she could wait for her amnesic husband outside of his tent.

The amount of sleep she got could barely be considered a nap, and she awoke with a groggy reluctance. There were others awake too, some just starting their day, while others still lingered by the embers of last night’s fire. They all spoke in hushed voices, so as to not wake up the rest of the camp. In a barely-awake daze, Jasmine put her hair up in a sloppy updo, and sauntered out into the cool pre-dawn air, taking a seat in the sand outside of Aladdin’s tent.

Then, just as she had predicted, as the sun started its debut over the horizon, the frazzled hero came stumbling through the tent flaps, half-dressed, hair mussed, and eyes wide with alarm. Jasmine stifled a giggle at the lovable predictability of her amorous husband.

“Good morning,” she greeted, quietly rising to meet him.

“You’re–” he stumbled over his words with relief, closing the gap between them and grasping her arms, “You’re okay! What happened? Where’s the mask?”

Jasmine shyly tucked a stray hair behind her ears, his ardent concern mixed with his sleep-tossed hair and state of partial undress causing some predictable feelings inside of her. “Why don’t you put something on, and we can go for a walk? There’s… a lot to catch you up on.”

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I should get up for sunrises more often, Jasmine thought as she and her forgetful hero went for a morning stroll in the soft sand. The early light seeped into the sky like a slow-leaking vase of pastel watercolors, and the last of the cool breezes sang like an overture to the fast-approaching heat of the coming day.

Jasmine started by asking Aladdin what he last remembered, then filled in the blanks from there. She started with the major events of the preceding day, from the portals spitting them out, to the liberation and escape, to the fireside jubilee. Then she let him ask about specifics. He particularly enjoyed hearing about his clever harebrained escape from the burning balcony to the foyer floor, and he made very little attempt to hide his smugness, making some remark about how he and Abu pulled off stunts like that all the time on the streets of Agrabah.

“So what’s the plan for today? What do we do with the mask now that we have it?” Aladdin asked when he was satisfied with the missing details.

“We are going to a nearby city, where Fasir is supposed to meet us,” Jasmine answered. “He will tell us what to do with the mask.”

Aladdin sighed, “I guess a day of just lazing around is off the table then?”

Jasmine gave a small laugh, “Believe me - When this is all over, there will be multiple days of lazing.”

Aladdin smirked, although he couldn’t quite glean if she was inferring that she had some sort of plan for after their grand adventure… or how much (if at all) he featured in it.

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When the pair returned to the camp, they were greeted by an ecstatic parade of people, most of whom Aladdin didn’t recognize. Did they know he was under a spell? That he didn’t remember most of them? They were calling him by name, and throwing around the word “hero.” Suddenly the smugness he felt when Jasmine was regaling him with his own heroics felt… misplaced.

Jasmine sensed his discomfort. “Are you okay?” she spoke softly after the sea of morning greetings had ebbed.

Aladdin hesitated, looking out on the freed people, “Yeah, I just… I just feel like… like it wasn’t me who saved them. Like they’re thanking a counterfeit version of the Aladdin who actually set them free. Like they’re expecting some better version of me that I have no connection to.”

Jasmine breathed out as she gently took her prince’s face in her hands and moved his gaze to meet hers. “It was you.” She placed a hand on his chest. “The same brave heart. The same clever boy.” She smirked. “Whether you remember it or not…” She turned and motioned to the camp, filled with people relearning what it was like to be free. “You did this.”

“No.” He took her hand, smiling sheepishly as he turned her to face him again, “We did this.”

“Don’t forget about us,” Amal teased as he and Genie walked towards them. “The Genie, Jesarra, and I took on an army of trained swordsmen while you two were playing parkour in the foyer.”

“Amal!” Aladdin was taken aback. Aladdin had seen Amal the other morning, before leaving for Daru’s fortress. Because of the spell, it had been the first time Aladdin remembered seeing his friend since he mysteriously disappeared from the streets of Agrabah when they were children, and he hadn’t seemed… fully human. The whole encounter had been strange and suddenly unexpected and had only been met with a simple “I’ll explain later.”

Amal saw the discomfort in his old friend’s eyes and knowingly placed a hand on his shoulder, “Have some breakfast. Then I am going to personally escort you to your next destination. Give your war-hero Carpet a break. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

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Saying goodbye to their thousand-year-old partners in crime was bittersweet. But hope carried them on, further into the desert, to finally bring an end to the great evil that plagued the seven sands.

Jasmine, who had barely slept two hours in the last two days, swiftly fell asleep to the steady vibration of the carriage, her head resting sweetly on Aladdin’s shoulder. After a few minutes, her head slowly and unconsciously slid from his shoulder down onto his lap. Aladdin was taken aback for a moment, awkwardly unsure of what to do with his hands. But after a moment, he relaxed and set one hand on her arm and the other on the sill of the carriage window. He gave a sweet, sideways grin at the undignified sleeping beauty - out cold, scrunched up on the carriage seat, and snoozing open-mouthed.

Amal chuckled, “You two will have no problem breaking this spell.”

Aladdin raised a brow obliviously.

Amal waved the subject away in favor of a long ride’s worth of conversation. Curious to know how the spell had falsified the gaps in Aladdin’s memories, Amal asked Aladdin about his life since they parted as children. Aladdin sighed and told him that he had adopted a monkey from a band of traveling performers, but that otherwise his life was uneventful - just stealing to survive and constantly scuffling with guards. He was able to pick up an odd job here and there because of his able body, but his reputation as a street rat preceded him, making it very difficult to make anything resembling an honest living.

“And honestly, I don’t know why I’m here,” he continued. “One morning I’m waking up next to a complete stranger. In a panic, I run home, and the next thing I can remember, I’m waking up in a cave in the middle of the desert, chained to the ground next to a princess and a Genie in disguise.” He took a breath before continuing. “She told me some story about hiring me to rescue her from an arranged marriage. But…” Aladdin looked down at the sleeping princess in his lap. “I don’t know…”

“You don’t know…?” Amal pressed gently.

“I… woke up next to her last week. In the palace. With no memory of who she was or how I had gotten there.” He sighed. “The other night, in the castle, she told me it wasn’t a fling. That it was ‘our’ bed I woke up in,” Aladdin paused.

Amal waited for him to continue, hesitant to confirm or deny anything Jasmine wouldn’t want him to. But Aladdin didn’t elaborate, so he tried to read him for the reason behind his hesitance. “And you don’t believe her?”

“Well, look at her! She’s beautiful! And the princess! And I’m…” Aladdin trailed off again, leaving Amal to decipher what he was too hurt to say out loud.

“You’re what?” Amal led him on. Aladdin didn’t respond, but Amal knew what he was thinking. That slur that followed them both around as orphans.

Street rat.

“Youre…” Amal finished for him, “a hero to hundreds? Friend of a Genie? Trusted by a princess? Master of a Flying Carpet! Clever! Kind. Good-looking.” Amal winked, drawing a slight blush from his old pal. “Clearly everyone here sees you for more than your circumstances of birth… except you.”

Aladdin quietly looked back down at the sleeping princess. He wanted Amal to be right. Logically, he knew he was. But so much about the situation didn’t make sense, and no amount of comforting words could fill in the gaps of his memory or undo decades of being a nobody.

Breaking the silence and not wanting to beat a dead horse, Amal changed the subject to his own backstory. That Mirage had kidnapped him as a boy and turned him into a monster. He gave few details of that life and even less details about his escape, but he shared the stories of his subsequent exploits throughout the desert - how he got his human arms back. And his legs. And his nose. And so on - one adventure and good deed after another, each one restoring a part of his humanity. Aladdin was so rapt, he hadn’t realized enough time had passed to bring them to their destination.

Jesarra stopped the carriage just outside the gates to the city.

“This is where we must part,” Amal lamented.

Aladdin gave Jasmine a light shake, “Princess. We’re here.”

“Hmm?” Jasmine slowly opened her eyes and groggily complained, “But didn’t I just fall asleep?” She sat up nonetheless, rubbing her eyes as Jesarra opened the door for them.

“Tell the guards at the gate you are here for the festival,” Amal instructed. “And do enjoy it - it’s a wonderful tradition and a beautiful day. Fasir will find you when the time is right.”

“You sure you guys can’t come with us?” Aladdin checked.

Amal chuckled, “Taking in a hundred displaced people one day then leaving for another adventure the next would be… a bad look. I’ve got my people to look after. But we’ll stay in the same place for one more night in case you have need of us. You all have each other.”

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After more bittersweet goodbyes, Amal took the carriage seat beside Jesarra, and they urged the horses away, back into the desert to help an entire people restart their lives. Jasmine checked the satchel that Kieran gifted her to make sure Genie’s lamp and the mask were safe inside, Aladdin slung the rolled up Magic Carpet onto one shoulder, and Abu scurried onto the other. The human duo looked at each other with a ready nod and walked up to the city gate.

“State your purpose,” the guard bellowed.

“We’re here for the festival,” Aladdin spoke.

The guard eyed the pair up and down with professional suspicion before signaling to the gatekeeper to let them in

“Welcome to Suketra.”

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Masterlist Chapter 46

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Author's Note: Sorry I only have one chapter for you all this week - It was a hectic seven days! But I promise next week to have two ready for you. They're already drafted up, and it's good stuff!