Alibaba opened his eyes. He was...soft. Fluffy pillows under his head, silk sheets cocooning him, and an actual freaking mattress under his body. He blinked sluggishly while taking in the extravagant room he awoke in. It wasn't as fancy as the rooms in Sindria, but Alibaba couldn't help but feel as though he had seen this place before.

Where was he? And what happened? Last he remembered, Alibaba was fighting against Hakuryuu. And then he died. Or at least, it felt like he died. One second he was screaming himself hoarse at his friend to snap out of it and the next he heard the wind whistling as Hakuryuu's blade struck true. A blinding light enveloped him, warm like a flickering ember of Amon's flames, but itchy as well. Like what little Magoi he had was being squeezed into a tiny bottle. Alibaba didn't think that was how one's soul returned to the Great Flow. He remembered Kassim and his sister's transparent bodies floating away to join the Rukh after the battle that happened in Balbadd. Then again, that was under special circumstances, Aladdin being an outlining factor. Maybe this was how it was supposed to happen. It was the first time Alibaba had died.

The sound of a door opening broke Alibaba's thoughts. A young girl dressed in servant's clothes slipped into the room with a tray held aloft in her arms. Alibaba struggled to sit up, surprised at how weak his body was. The girl heard the rustling of the sheets and squeaked as she looked up at Alibaba.

"Prince Alibaba!" The title startled Alibaba. He hadn't heard anyone call him that since he was fourteen. He was so surprised Alibaba forgot to respond as the servant scurried to his bedside.

"You're awake!" She sat the tray down, the contents wobbling from the sudden movement. It held a small pitcher and basin of water, a rag soaking inside. "The King will want to know immediately." And off she went in a hustle, leaving the room with barely a sound before Alibaba could snap out of his stupor.

Just what in the name of Solomon was going on? What King? Sinbad? He was the most likely option. He couldn't imagine Kouen being interested in Alibaba's predicament; even if he wasn't involved in a civil war.

But this didn't look like a war camp infirmary, and it was most definitely not a room in Sindria. Besides, the servant girl wasn't dressed like the maids in Sinbad's castle. Their the uniform was more colorful and cut for tropical weather. The girl who had visited was in a simple long-sleeved white dress with a red trim, feet covered in flat shoes that matched. The image pinged in Alibaba's head like he should know where he saw working people wear such a thing. The feeling was getting stronger by the minute as he looked around the room, Deja-Vu overtaking his senses.

Alibaba threw his covers off and was annoyed at how even that small action taxed him. His feet stumbled on the stone floor and Alibaba almost fell flat on his face. He gritted his teeth in frustration. It wasn't just that his body was weak, but it was as if it was just wrong. He kept overstepping and spent more time tripping with his arms pinwheeling than he did actually walking.

After damn near breaking his collarbone Alibaba stopped. He leaned against the bedpost, breath heavy and sweat running down his face. Why was he so weak? And why was it so hard to move? Alibaba glared at the doorway, the one place where he could escape and find out just what was going on. The way his legs were shaking and his heart beating suggested he take a break however. No need to kill himself once again for nothing. He'd never hear the end of it. He could see Master Sharrkan laughing uproariously at his gravestone now. It would be written: Here lies Alibaba Saluja, a good friend, the boy who could survive a Dungeon and Hakuryuu at his most insane...but could not walk three steps without breaking his neck.

Staring at the doorway only made him want to keep going regardless of the mental image. To keep himself from attempting another embarrassing try for the doors, he swept his gaze around the room and fell short of a full-length mirror in the corner of the room. Golden eyes stared in wonder and absolute horror at the image reflected. His cheeks were fuller with lingering baby fat, the skin flushed red like a fever. He was shorter, hair longer and still sporting that annoying cowlick at the front. The figure in the mirror was the spitting image of Alibaba of eleven years old.

The door opened once more and Alibaba whipped his head to the side and felt the air in his lungs leave him. It felt as though Morgiana had punched him in the chest at full strength. His hands trembled and his eyes widened. Standing in the doorway was Rashid Saluja, former King of Balbadd and Alibaba's late father. Late, as in dead. Dead as in Alibaba saw his spirit join the Great Flow with his mother after Kassim ohmygod-

Alibaba's eyes rolled back as he fell in a dead faint.

Later, Alibaba would beat himself up for not recognizing what was wrong with his surroundings. First, his Magoi, Rukh, soul, the essence of life – whatever they're calling it now, is gone. Or well, not gone, but different. Like a part of it was gone, a missing puzzle piece to a puzzle. Second, his earrings are gone. While he really wouldn't have worried if it were just the golden hoops that he wore at the lobe but Kassim's red earring was gone. He'd wear it at the tip of his ear, and now it was gone. Cause Kassim might still be alive and Alibaba hadn't inherited the ruby hoops yet because-

Another thing, which Alibaba will forever be mortified for not noticing, was that the sword that held Amon was gone. Nowhere in sight. The original vessel, Alibaba's dagger he traded for at the approval of his father, was at his bedside. There was no eight-pointed star etched into the steel, hilt, or sheath. Alibaba had checked over a million times to be sure. Another way he could tell that Amon was missing was that he no longer felt the Djinn's presence within his...self? Gah! Alibaba couldn't even describe how Djinns worked within his own inner monologue.

Putting aside his Rukh, Kassim's earrings, and Amon, the most pressing evidence of things being askew was the dead man sitting at Alibaba's beside. King Rashid looked well for a dead man, grey hair neat and tidy as it fell in waves over his shoulders. Amber eyes pinched with worry as he scolded Alibaba for stressing his body during his sickness. Which Alibaba apparently was, sick that is.

Rashid told Alibaba how he had finally broken the worst of the fever the previous night. He had been bedridden for over a week now, his consciousness weaving in and out with hallucinations and night terrors. Alibaba stayed mute as Rashid talked, his mind still whirring with the implications.

Was everything a fever dream? Capturing Amon's Dungeon, Kassim's death, staying in Sindria, Aladdin and Morgiana's friendship? Could it all have been a figment of Alibaba's imagination? Alibaba let out a huff of air and relaxed into his bed. Rashid frowned when it looked like Alibaba was going to sleep but stopped his lecture and placed the cool rag from the basin onto Alibaba's forehead.

Alibaba waited until he heard his father's footsteps leave the room and the door close shut before letting the tears fall. Images of everything that had happened to him since meeting Aladdin flashed through his mind's eye. Alibaba bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn't fair!

Even with all the hardships, the death, the almost war, the actual war, and the problem of Hakuryuu himself...Alibaba didn't want it to be fake. He made so many friends. Toto, Olba and his band of foster siblings, Sinbad and his generals, Kougyokou (even if her family destroyed Balbadd), Hakuryuu (despite his step into insanity), and most importantly: Aladdin and Morgiana. Everything began and ended with them it seemed. Without them, Alibaba wouldn't have gotten the courage to stand up for Balbadd, the determination to improve himself in wielding a Djinn.

Alibaba didn't want to give up those memories to something as feeble as a fever hallucination. It felt too real, was too important to him. No, Alibaba refused to believe that it had all been fake. He rejected that possibility because it hurt too much to bear.

But, what did that leave him? Here he was, bedridden at Balbadd's palace with a fever. He had just seen and been spoken to, by his dead father. What else could it be? An illusion made by Hakuryuu? Alibaba doubted it, it really wasn't the boy's style. He'd rather face an opponent head-on. So what then? What created this blast from the past-

Alibaba shot up from his bed. The rag fell from his face and landed on his lap, the water soaking the sheets with a light sheen of wetness. He looked down at his hands, hands that were smaller and less calloused. These hands didn't spend three years working as a caravan worker. These hands didn't train under Sharrkan. They hadn't done these things yet.

Because this was the past. Alibaba remembered being sick as a kid. There was a big feast commending a visiting official and Alibaba had gotten sick because he ate food that was poisoned. There had been a small plate of delicacy meat that was from the official's homeland. The man had laughed at Alibaba's open curiosity and told him to have the whole thing. The poisoned food was meant for the man but Alibaba ate it instead, and thus had spent several weeks afterward sick. He barely remembered it happened, save for the fact that it did happen.

So, somehow, someway, Alibaba was in the past.

Laughter bubbled in his throat and he tried to keep it down but was unable to as the sheer possibilities opened up in front of his eyes. There was so much he could do to change things. So many people he could save.

And Alibaba already knew who was at the top of his list. Kassim. Alibaba was not going to let his brother fall in depravity this time around. He didn't care if he had to beat the sense into the other boy's head if need be. Kassim was going to live dammit. Alibaba wasn't sure what he would do first after, save finding Morgiana and freeing her, but he'd figure it out.

But first, he had to get over the last of his sickness.