You wake in a dimly lit chamber carved from black stone. Outside, the desert storms howl. Chains of shimmering magic bind your wrists lightly — more for show than strength. A familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“You should be honored,” Mozenrath says, leaning against the wall with an infuriating smirk.

“I don’t often bring guests here. But the daughter of Jafar? Now that’s worth the trouble.” .His eyes narrow slightly as he studies you.

“Relax. If I wanted you harmed, you’d already be ash. For now… let’s just say you’re useful to me.”