White heat soaked through the air, sunlight ruling where the moon had lingered before, surfaces blurring under its glare, a rooftop glowing like bone left too long in flame.

"Take care!" came Aladdin's voice, fingers tight around what he'd found, mouth stretched wide without warning. Out came his dark arms, stretching slow while his torso pressed into the gritty brick face. Peering down from the roof edge, he checked that nobody was watching. With a quiet shift of weight, he sat, choosing to divide every last coin in half. Those wide hazel eyes? They lit up like fireflies at dusk. A single chunk of bread rested nearby—more precious than frozen gemstones sold anywhere.

A happy sound came from the small monkey near his side. His mom gave him Abu just before she passed away. The man who might have been his dad left one day, chasing dreams somewhere far off. That absence didn't weigh heavy on Aladdin. He'd long stopped buying into that old story about hope and return. Still, his mom worried he might become untamed and isolated without anyone close by. A creature of some kind, she figured, could steady his spirit. Maybe it once did, yet lately he stole on behalf of two.

Lunch arrived at last. Bread in hand, Aladdin motioned toward his colleague. Hold on. Up jumped Aladdin when Abu dashed away. Up past the market, the guards vanished into stairwell shadows, climbing toward the roof. Still, those two made peace—right before Rasoul stormed in, anger burning hot. On his head today: a black banded turban, finished with a dark stone tip, proof of his rank as commander.