|The
Life of Mine, For the Life of Yours |

An original story inspired by Disney's Aladdin
Written by Sedeara
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  To Evi, who was the first person, in her reading of it,
that felt all the same emotions as when I wrote it.
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Note: This story has also been translated into Spanish by Eva Luz Villalon
Turrubiates.  To read the translated version, click here.
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Prologue

         The woman lay on
the bed, unmoving.  Her brown eyes seemed
bottomless as she stared at the curtains above her bed.  Her
usually dark
complexion had grown pale, save for the purple rings around her
sunken
eyes.
         Slowly, she turned
her head to look at the Elder in the room with her.
"Phasir," she whispered, her voice hoarse, "I know I don't have
much time.
But I'm not ready to give up!  I can't surrender when there's
so much left for
me here . . . There must be a way.  There must be a cure .
. ."
         The Elder nodded
in the woman's direction.  "You know there is," he
reminded her, "but there is no one here who can acquire it. 
Not even
myself."
         "Only two people,
besides me, are capable of finding it," murmured
the woman, "but they will never return in time . . ."  Her
voice almost
cracked as she realized she was admitting her own imminent death.
         "No," agreed Phasir. 
"Nor can we summon them from the place they
are now at.  If they failed to attend this conference, the
seven deserts could
end up in war.  You know better than any how fragile relations
have been
lately."
         "Yes," murmured
the woman, "and I know the needs of the people
outweigh my own . . ."
         "But you're wrong,"
contradicted Phasir gently.  "Your life is
precious, and will be saved.  The stars are in perfect
alignment; If we are
going to do anything, it is imperative that we do it now. 
Call your daughter
in.  She will aid us in our plans."
         "She is only a
child!" protested the woman weakly.  "I do not know
what you plan, but please, do not put her in danger, or cause her
any pain--"
         "The danger and
pain of this mission pale next to the pain of living
without her mother," interrupted Phasir. "You should know that well. 
Call
her in."
         "Tell me the plan
first," begged the woman.  "My daughter fears you,
and she will take the message better from me.  Please."
         Phasir sighed. 
"You may be right."  And he told the woman the idea,
told her how to reach the man who could save her life.  When
he finished,
her weary body released a sigh.
         "It sounds unbelievable,"
she admitted, "and yet I do not doubt you.
I've been through enough not to question the extraordinary . . .
"  She took a
deep breath into her aching lungs and called her daughter's name.
         The little girl
was immediately in the room, for she'd been standing
right outside her mother's door.  She kneeled beside the bed
and took the
woman's cold hand in her young one.  "Mother," she whispered,
trying hard
to be brave and hold back tears, "What's going to happen?"
         "Listen closely,
child," whispered the woman, "and I will tell you what
must be done . . ."