Are you ready, little dreamer? Take a deep breath — because tonight, something goes very, very wrong. But don't you worry. Nothing is broken that a brave heart cannot mend.
For many happy months, Aladdin and Princess Yasmin lived in their shimmering golden palace. The Sultan visited every Sunday. Aladdin's mother had her own comfy room with soft cushions and a sleepy little grey cat curled by the window. Yasmin taught Aladdin how to write his letters properly, and Aladdin taught Yasmin how to skip stones across the fountain. They were, as everyone said, the happiest couple in Agrabah.
But do you remember the evil sorcerer — that tall stranger with the yellow eyes, who had left Aladdin trapped in the Cave of Wonders? Well, he had been packing his bag. Packing and travelling. Travelling and plotting. And one dark evening, he arrived in Agrabah in a hooded grey cloak, pretending to be a poor old lamp-seller.
That very morning, Aladdin had gone off hunting with the Sultan and would not be back until late. So the palace was quieter than usual. Princess Yasmin sat on her balcony, brushing her long hair and watching the birds.
Below her window, in the busy street, came a strange, sing-song cry:
"New lamps for old! New lamps for old! Bright shiny new for your dull old brass! New lamps for old! New lamps for old!"
The children of the market pointed and giggled. What a silly old man! Who would trade a new lamp for an old one? Grown-ups don't do such foolish things!
But up on the balcony, Yasmin's maid clapped her hands. "Oh, Your Highness! Look — a strange old peddler is giving away brand-new lamps! Doesn't your husband keep an old scruffy little lamp on the shelf in his study? Let's swap it! Won't he be pleased to come home to a nice bright new one?"
Yasmin, who was kind and sweet but did not know one single thing about magic lamps, laughed. "Oh yes, that ugly little lamp! It sits there gathering dust. Let's get a new one!"
And so, my sleepy one — you can already see it, can't you? — the maid fetched the little dusty old lamp from Aladdin's shelf, ran downstairs, and handed it to the old peddler in exchange for a shiny new brass lamp.
The peddler's eyes flashed yellow for just one second. He hid the old lamp under his cloak and hurried away, faster than any old man ought to move.
The maid ran back up and placed the shiny new lamp on the shelf. Yasmin laughed and went back to brushing her hair. "Aladdin will be so surprised!"
Oh yes. He would be.
The moment the sorcerer turned the corner into a quiet alley, he stopped, checked all around, and rubbed the dusty old lamp.
BWOOOOM!
Out swirled the giant Djinn, tall as a tower. "HO-HO! What is your wish, ma— Oh." His enormous face fell. He knew this new master right away. His yellow eyes. His nine rings. His cruel mouth. "…master."
The sorcerer grinned a wicked grin. "Djinn! You must do whatever I command, is that right?"
"That is right," rumbled the Djinn quietly.
"Then listen very, very carefully. I want you to lift up Aladdin's whole golden palace — the princess inside, the servants, the gardens, the fountain, everything — and carry it far, far away from Agrabah. All the way to my land, on the other side of the desert. TONIGHT."
The Djinn's shoulders sagged. He did not want to. But he had to obey.
That very night, while Aladdin was still riding home with the Sultan under the moon, a great shimmering wind swept over the palace. Yasmin was reading a book by lamplight when suddenly the whole building — walls, roof, floors, gardens and all — wobbled like a boat on water. Then it lifted off the ground.
She ran to the window and gasped. Below her, Agrabah was shrinking! The lights of the market were becoming tiny dots! The Sultan's palace looked as small as a doll's house! Wind rushed past her hair. Stars whooshed by. And the whole palace — princess, servants, fountain and all — sailed away across the black night sky like a giant golden ship.
By morning, when Aladdin and the Sultan came riding home over the last hill…
They stopped their horses. They rubbed their eyes.
The palace was GONE.
Just gone. Empty space. Not one stone. Not one tile. Only a large square patch of dusty ground where the palace had stood the day before.
The Sultan's kind face turned dark red. "ALADDIN! Where is my daughter! WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?!"
Aladdin's mouth hung open. "S-Sire, I… I don't know! I promise, I don't know!"
But the Sultan's soldiers were already surrounding Aladdin, spears pointing. The sneaky Grand Vizier — remember him? — whispered wickedly in the Sultan's ear, "Sire, I told you this boy was a trickster! A market boy, playing a great cruel joke on your family!"
The Sultan, wild with worry for Yasmin, roared, "Bring me his head at once — unless he brings my daughter back in FORTY DAYS!"
Poor Aladdin. He fell to his knees on the empty ground. "Forty days, Your Majesty. I swear I will find her. I swear it."
They locked him in the palace dungeon. And that night — cold, alone, no Djinn, no lamp — Aladdin sat in his cell and thought and thought and thought. What could he do? Where would he even begin to look?
Then, in the darkness, he twisted his hands together in worry — and accidentally rubbed something old and quiet on his finger.
The little copper ring.
Zzzzip! Whoosh!
Out popped the tiny sparkly Djinn of the Ring, no bigger than a teapot.
"Yes, master? Long time no see! You called?"
Aladdin's tired eyes suddenly filled with hope. "Little Djinn — oh, dear little Djinn — do you know where my palace has gone? Do you know where they've taken my Yasmin?"
The tiny Djinn nodded slowly. "Small favours only, master — but I can carry you to where the palace stands. It is very far. Far across the desert, far across the sea, at the top of a red-stone tower. Are you brave enough to go?"
Aladdin stood up straight. His knees stopped shaking. He thought of Yasmin. He thought of his mother. He thought of the Sultan's tears. And he thought — just for one second — of that horrible sorcerer with the yellow eyes.
Aladdin's fists curled tight. "Take me there. Tonight."
The little Djinn bowed. He clapped his tiny hands, once — pop! — and Aladdin was gone from the dungeon like a soap bubble.
Sweet dreams, my brave little listener. Tomorrow night, we finish our story — a princess with a very clever plan, a sleeping potion, a mighty lamp, and a boy who once shared a mango with a stray dog by a market fountain. See you at bedtime.