Aladdin had grown up on tales of the legendary magic lamp—an ancient relic said to contain a genie who could grant three wishes to whoever possessed it. The idle boy who lived with his widowed mother had always dreamed of more. Today, that dream burned brighter than ever. He was determined to find the lamp and use its power to impress the Sultan—and win the hand of the Princess.
To make that dream real, Aladdin struck a deal with a mysterious sorcerer. In exchange for retrieving the lamp from a dangerous, booby-trapped cave, the sorcerer promised him untold wealth.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Aladdin asked, eyeing the barren stretch of desert before them.
"Boy, don't worry. My master never gives false information," the sorcerer replied smoothly. "He only wants the old oil lamp for ritual purposes. You can keep all the gold, jewels, and other treasures inside."
What the sorcerer didn't know was that Aladdin was far less naïve than he looked. He had long heard whispers about the lamp's true power—but not its location. Today, he was using this so-called sorcerer to lead him straight to it.
"I'll hold you to that," Aladdin said with feigned innocence. "Just don't start a fight over the treasure."
The sorcerer gave a tight smile. "We're not interested in worldly riches."
But in his heart, he sneered: You greedy fool. A street rat dreaming of marrying a princess? Once you give me that lamp, I'll command the genie—and the world will kneel.
> Once I get the lamp, I'll enslave the genie forever. No one will use it but me. With that power, I'll rule everything.
After a long, silent walk through the dunes, they finally reached a narrow fissure in the rock.
"We're here," the sorcerer said, pointing at the jagged entrance. "That's the cave. But listen carefully—do not touch anything inside until you retrieve the oil lamp. If you do, the cave will trap you forever. Understand?"
Aladdin hesitated. The entrance was dark and foreboding, but he could almost hear the genie's voice, whispering promises of glory.
"I remember," he said quietly, steadying his breath as he stepped inside.
The path narrowed and darkness closed in. Aladdin ran his fingers along the cold stone walls, feeling his way forward. Minutes passed—maybe longer—until a faint glow appeared ahead. He followed the flickering light until the tunnel opened into a vast underground chamber.
And there, beneath the glittering ceiling of stone, was a garden unlike any other.
Fruits made of gemstones—emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds—hung from tree branches like forbidden treasures.
"Whoa…" Aladdin breathed.
Just one of these could feed me and Mother for a year.
He remembered the sorcerer's warning—but he didn't trust him. The man was cunning, yes—but Aladdin was more cunning.
"I'll just take a few," he whispered, pulling open his pack and reaching out.
As he plucked the third jeweled fruit, the ground rumbled beneath him.
"Oh no…"
The tremors deepened. Cracks split the floor as rivers of molten lava surged from below, casting a sinister glow across the cave walls.
"I should've listened to that damn sorcerer," Aladdin muttered, clinging to a nearby wall as the shaking intensified.
The heat swelled. Lava spread like blood through veins of stone. Aladdin turned and bolted deeper into the cave, his stolen treasures jangling with every step. He passed mountains of untouched riches—golden thrones, jade vases, jewel-encrusted weapons—but didn't dare take another thing.
Ahead, the path ended at a still, black pond.
"I either burn… or take my chances."
Without hesitation, he dove in. The icy water struck like knives, but he swam forward, lungs burning, until finally—he found the far edge.
Gasping, soaked, and trembling, he collapsed onto the stone floor.
When his breath returned, he stood—and froze.
He had reached a throne room of treasure.
Mountains of gold, forgotten weapons, lost artifacts—all piled high beneath the ceiling of stone. And atop the tallest heap, bathed in the soft glow of firelight, sat an old, soot-darkened oil lamp.
Aladdin's heart thudded in his chest.
"Finally," he whispered.
He didn't care about anything else. His gaze locked on the lamp. He climbed, slipped, pushed forward. Every fall only made him more determined.
At last, he stood at the summit. His hands closed around the lamp.
"No more stealing. No more hunger. Mother will live in comfort. And me… I'll have my princess."
He held the lamp tightly. "Let it be real," he whispered.
He began to rub it—once… twice… thrice… four times…
Just as his hand moved for the fifth time, the air shifted. A force erupted from the lamp—silent, invisible, and powerful.
Wind screamed. Light exploded.
"What—what is this?!" Aladdin shouted, gripping the lamp.
But it was no use.
The suction yanked him off his feet.
And with one final pull, he vanished—along with the lamp—into thin air.
*****
When Aladdin opened his eyes again, the world around him had changed.
He was no longer in the suffocating heat of the treasure chamber. No longer surrounded by gold or molten lava. Instead, he found himself lying on a grassy slope, soft earth beneath him, and the sky above a vibrant blue.
His backpack was still strapped to his shoulders. In his right hand—still clenched tight—was the old oil lamp. His fingers ached from gripping it.
Slowly, Aladdin sat up. His muscles were sore, and his mind reeled with confusion. He looked around, blinking in disbelief.
He was on a mountain. A massive one.
The peak stretched endlessly into the heavens above him, while below, emerald hills and forests rolled like waves on a green sea. Wildflowers bloomed around him. The air was crisp, cool, and filled with the scent of pine and damp earth. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen.
"Where… am I?" he muttered.
The silence was unnerving.
He grew up in a city of endless sand and scorching winds. Agrabah was dust, sandstone, and sweat. But here? This place was brimming with life. Trees swayed gently in the breeze. Birds called from somewhere high above. A stream gurgled nearby, invisible behind the tall grass.
It was beautiful. But it wasn't home.
"No," Aladdin said aloud, standing to his feet. "I need to go back."
He looked at the lamp in his hand, still dull and blackened. His only link to that powerful surge of magic. The thing that brought him here.
He held it up and rubbed.
Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing.
Frowning, he rubbed harder, faster, desperate.
Still nothing.
"Come on," he hissed. "You brought me here, now take me back!"
He rubbed again.
And again.
Then, just as he was about to give up—light. The lamp shone, not golden this time, but a soft, milky glow. The surface rippled like liquid, then turned to mist.
Before Aladdin could react, the mist surged forward and entered his chest.
He staggered back, eyes wide, dropping to one knee. A strange sensation overwhelmed him, like cold water spilling through every corner of his mind. A second presence—foreign, ancient—brushed against his thoughts.
"What the hell…" he gasped.
His body felt different. Lighter. His heartbeat was calmer now, too calm, as if his blood was moving slower, steadier, more purposefully. His senses sharpened—he could hear the distant howl of the wind across the peaks, smell the moss on the rocks, even feel the tremble of the earth beneath his feet.
But he had no time to understand what had happened.
Because the lamp—was gone.
His eyes darted to the ground. Nothing. Not even dust. It had vanished completely, melted into his body.
"No, no, no!" Aladdin shouted, spinning in circles. "Where did it go?! How am I supposed to get back now?!"
His heart pounded louder than before. He had trusted the magic. Now it had abandoned him.
And just as panic took hold—everything changed again.
The bright sky dimmed. The sun vanished behind a sudden wall of shadow. He looked up.
Storm clouds. Thick, black, and fast. They rolled in without warning, devouring the blue sky like ink in water. The birds stopped singing. The wind picked up. It howled across the mountaintop like a warning cry.
"Oh, shit…" Aladdin whispered. "It's going to rain."
He looked around. There was no shelter. No trees big enough to hide beneath, no caves or overhangs. Just open mountain terrain stretching in every direction.
"I need to get out of here. Now."
He started running down the slope, his boots thudding against wet grass and slick rock. But the mountain was enormous. Every time he thought he saw a possible shelter in the distance, it turned out to be just another boulder or bush too small to protect him.
The first raindrop hit his cheek. Then another. Then ten more.
Within moments, the sky cracked open and poured its fury down on him.
Aladdin's clothes clung to his skin, soaked through in seconds. The cold stabbed into his bones, and the wind whipped water into his eyes. Still, he ran.
His breath came in ragged gasps. His vision blurred. The mountain path was now a stream, water rushing past his ankles. He slipped, caught himself, stumbled on.
Finally, his strength gave out.
He dropped to his knees, palms pressing into the wet earth, head hanging low as rain pelted his back. He was panting like a dog, shoulders heaving. His chest burned.
"I… can't…" he murmured.
He tried to push forward, but his limbs refused to move. His muscles were drained, his body trembling from cold and exhaustion. The storm didn't ease—not for a second.
Then, darkness overtook him.
Aladdin collapsed onto the wet grass. The world faded, and the sound of rain became distant thunder in a dream.
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