Every man, woman and child in Plunkarian space has heard a Vocarii sing before, and it puts anything a human has done to shame. It’s not just the ethereal appearance or the 5 sets of vocal chords. They have a deep sense of the sacred that seamlessly blends with any topic they sing about, even and especially the profane. Despite having heard the blessed children of Orpheus and all the Bards of Heaven in their wondrous music before, the song that I awoke to was different. It’s well known fact that the Vocarii do not allow their best singers to leave their world, but I had no idea the difference could be so stark. Or that I would be carrying one… the AI spirit of one… around on my arm. It was a melody as old as time itself, yet as new as the first breath of a star. This was the song of Zephyrion, and it spoke of things both beautiful and terrible.

The Djinn hovered in the center of the chamber, his form a tapestry of light and shadow. His three eyes were closed, his face a mask of perfect serenity. From his being flowed a river of sound, each note a story, each harmony a universe unto itself. As I watched, transfixed, the room around us began to change. The walls breathed like living things, their surfaces rippling with patterns that spoke of ancient truths. The air itself seemed to come alive, filled with motes of light that danced and swirled to Zephyrion's song.

His voice, when it rose, was a thing of pure wonder. It carried within it the joy of new life and the sorrow of endings, the weight of eternity and the lightness of a single moment. It was a voice that could shape worlds and unmake stars, yet it trembled with the vulnerability of a child's first words.

Words in languages I had never heard flowed from Zephyrion like water from a spring. Each syllable was a gift, each phrase a revelation. I found myself understanding without knowing, feeling truths too vast for my mind to grasp.

As the song reached its crescendo, I saw tears form in the corners of Zephyrion's closed eyes. They fell like liquid starlight, each drop a world of possibility. And in that moment, I understood. This was not just a prayer or a ritual. It was an act of love, a reaffirmation of life itself. The final note hung in the air, a perfect crystalline moment suspended in time. And then, gently, it faded, leaving behind a silence that was somehow more profound than any sound could be.

Slowly, Zephyrion's eyes opened. They focused on me, and in their depths, I saw echoes of the wonders his song had woven.

"Ah, Caleb," he said, his voice now soft and warm. "I hope my morning devotions didn't disturb you. Sometimes, in the quiet moments, one cannot help but sing the song of creation."

I sat up, my heart full of emotions I couldn't name. The bed beneath me shifted, cradling me like a mother holding her child.

"That was..." I began, then faltered. How could mere words describe what I had witnessed? "It was beautiful. I've never felt anything like it."

Zephyrion smiled, a gentle expression that held within it the wisdom of ages. "The song of creation is not just heard, Caleb. It is felt, in the very core of one's being. It is a reminder of the beauty that exists in all things, from the grandest galaxy to the smallest particle."

As the last echoes of the song faded from the air, I felt changed. The world around me seemed brighter somehow, more vivid. It was as if Zephyrion's song had washed away a veil from my eyes, allowing me to see the true wonder of existence.

"I have so many questions," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Zephyrion's eyes twinkled with mischief, his form shimmering as he floated closer. "Questions? Oh my dear boy, you have no idea how refreshing that is to hear! I've been cooped up in that regalia since Ali Baba's untimely demise, positively bursting with curiosity about the state of the cosmos. How about we make this a little more interesting?"

He snapped his fingers, and two comfortable chairs materialized out of thin air, along with a floating tea set that looked like it was crafted from stardust and nebulae.

"I propose a trade," Zephyrion said, his voice filled with barely contained excitement. "For every burning question you have about your shiny new abilities or the vast, mind-boggling universe you've stumbled into, I get to ask one about what I've missed. It's only fair, don't you think? I mean, I've been out of the loop for... how long has it been, exactly? A few decades? Centuries? Time gets a bit fuzzy when you're trapped in a cosmic artifact."

He poured two cups of what appeared to be liquid starlight, offering one to Caleb. "So, what do you say? Shall we embark on a mutual journey of discovery? I'm dying to know if they ever figured out faster-than-light travel, or if the Vocarii finally got over their obsession with those ridiculous hats. And don't even get me started on the Ilgoren's vapor politics!"

Zephyrion leaned in, his three eyes focusing intently on Caleb. "But first things first - how in the name of all that's wonderfully weird did you end up with Ali Baba's regalia? That's not exactly something you pick up at your local intergalactic pawn shop!"

I settled into the chair that had materialized, my mind buzzing with questions even as I marveled at the impossible physics of the floating tea set. The liquid starlight in my cup swirled hypnotically, and I found myself momentarily lost in its depths.

"Fair's fair," I said, dragging my attention back to Zephyrion. "You asked about the Regalia first, so I suppose that's where we'll start." I paused, considering how to frame my response. "As for how I ended up with it... well, that's a bit of a long story involving betrayal, bio-mechanical monsters, and a very ill-advised career change."

Zephyrion's eyes twinkled with amusement, and for a moment, I could have sworn I saw something more in their depths – a flicker of recognition, perhaps, or a hint of shared experience. It was gone in an instant, leaving me to wonder if I'd imagined it.

"Betrayal and monsters, you say? My, my, some things never change," Zephyrion chuckled, his form shimmering like a mirage. "Ali Baba had quite the knack for finding trouble too. Or perhaps it was trouble that had a knack for finding him."

I leaned forward, my eyes widening as the full implication of Zephyrion's casual reference hit me. "Wait, you knew Ali Baba? Personally?" The words tumbled out, laced with a mixture of disbelief and reverence.

Ali Baba. The name alone sent a shiver down my spine. In the Plunkaris system, he was more legend than man – a figure shrouded in mystery, spoken of in hushed whispers and grand tales. Entire academic careers had been built on studying the fragments of his legacy. And here was Zephyrion, casually dropping his name as if discussing an old friend.

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"What... what was he like?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind raced, cataloging all the stories I'd heard, all the theories I'd read. Was he truly the visionary hero some claimed? The dangerous radical others painted him as? Or something else entirely?

Zephyrion's expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed to look through me, his gaze focused on some distant point in time or space. The air around him shimmered, as if the very mention of Ali Baba's name had stirred the fabric of reality.

Zephyrion's expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed to look through me, his gaze focused on some distant point in time or space. The air around him shimmered, as if the very mention of Ali Baba's name had stirred the fabric of reality.

"Ali Baba," Zephyrion scoffed, rolling all three of his eyes in a dizzying display. "He absolutely loathed that moniker, you know. Called it a 'gross oversimplification of a complex socio-economic rebellion' or some equally pretentious nonsense." Zephyrion's form rippled with what I could only describe as fond exasperation.

"To his friends, he was Zadeek. To his enemies – and oh, did he have enemies – he was the King of Thieves. A title he wore with considerably more pride, I might add."

I blinked, momentarily thrown by the casual familiarity with which Zephyrion spoke of the legendary figure. It was like hearing someone describe Zeus as 'that dramatic old thunderbolt-thrower'.

Zephyrion continued, his voice taking on a lyrical quality that seemed at odds with his sassy tone. "Zadeek was... well, imagine if you took the universe – in all its vast, chaotic glory – crammed it into a human-shaped container, and then gave it an inferiority complex and a penchant for dramatic speeches. That was Zadeek."

The Djinn's form flickered, and for a heartbeat, I could have sworn I saw the outline of a more solid figure – someone with eyes that held the weight of centuries and a smirk that could outshine a supernova. But it was gone in an instant, leaving me to wonder if I'd imagined it.

"He was brilliant, of course," Zephyrion said, his tone softening. "But also deeply flawed. The man could inspire loyalty with a word, spark revolutions with an idea, and then forget to eat for a week because he was too busy contemplating the cosmic significance of quantum entanglement."

There was a weight to Zephyrion's words that I couldn't quite place, a sense of personal loss that seemed at odds with his usual playful demeanor. It was as if he wasn't just recounting history, but reliving it.

"But he was also kind, in his own chaotic way," Zephyrion continued, his eyes swirling with colors I couldn't name. "He saw potential in people – and beings – that others overlooked. Myself included," he added, so quietly I almost missed it.

I sat back, my mind reeling. The Zadeek that Zephyrion described was both more and less than the legend – a complex, contradictory figure that defied simple categorization. It was thrilling and unsettling in equal measure to have such a direct, personal connection to a figure I'd only ever known through stories and speculation.

"I... wow," I managed, eloquence deserting me in the face of such revelations. "That's... not exactly the Ali Baba – I mean, Zadeek – that the history books talk about."

Zephyrion let out a laugh that sounded like wind chimes in a hurricane. "Oh, my dear boy, history books are where the truth goes to get a fancy makeover and maybe a bit of plastic surgery. They tend to leave out the part where the legendary King of Thieves once tried to revolutionize interstellar travel while wearing his undergarments on his head because he thought it would 'improve cognitive function'."

Zephyrion barked a laugh when he saw my expression. “That.. dear boy, was a joke. It was only a couple hours and everyone had undergarments on their head. It was a party after all.”

Zephyrion's form shimmered, his three eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. "Oh, my dear Caleb, if I were to list all the inaccuracies in your historical records, we'd be here until the heat death of the universe. And let me tell you, that's a remarkably dull affair. I've seen it twice."

I raised an eyebrow at that, filing away yet another impossibly intriguing statement for later consideration. "Right," I said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "So, Zadeek had this grand vision of unity between species and cultures. But what went wrong? Why didn't it come to pass?"

The humor drained from Zephyrion's expression, replaced by a weariness that seemed to age him centuries in an instant. "Ah, the eternal question. What went wrong?" He sighed, a sound like distant thunder. "The short answer? People. The long answer? Well, that's considerably more complicated."

Zephyrion waved a hand, and the air between us shimmered, forming into a miniature holographic representation of the Plunkaris system. "Zadeek's vision was beautiful, make no mistake. A galactic society where every being, regardless of species or origin, could reach their full potential. Where knowledge flowed freely, and the barriers between worlds were mere suggestions rather than iron-clad rules."

The hologram shifted, showing flashes of different scenes - advanced cities, beings of various species working together, ships that looked like they were grown rather than built.

"But vision and reality rarely align perfectly," Zephyrion continued, his voice tinged with regret. "There were those who feared change, those who stood to lose power if the old systems crumbled. And then there were the unintended consequences - technologies that weren't ready, cultural clashes that no one anticipated."

The hologram flickered, showing scenes of conflict, of protests and battles.

"In the end," Zephyrion said softly, "Zadeek's dream became a casualty of its own ambition. The powers that be decided it was too dangerous, too destabilizing. They moved to shut it down, to erase it from history."

I leaned forward, captivated by the tale. "But they didn't succeed entirely, did they? I mean, the Regalia, Quetzcoatl... they're still here. We're still here."

Zephyrion's form brightened, a smile spreading across his ethereal features. "Ah, now you're asking the right questions! No, they didn't succeed entirely. Zadeek was nothing if not thorough in his contingency planning. He scattered pieces of his work across the galaxy, hidden in plain sight, waiting for the right person to come along and put them back together."

He fixed me with a penetrating gaze, all three eyes focused intently on my face. "Which brings us to you, Caleb. The newest bearer of the Regalia, the one who awakened Quetzcoatl. The question is, what will you do with this legacy?"

I felt the weight of expectation settle on my shoulders, heavy yet somehow invigorating. "I... I want to finish what Zadeek started," I said, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. "But I'm not naive enough to think it'll be easy. The same forces that opposed him are still out there, aren't they?"

Zephyrion nodded, his expression a mix of pride and concern. "Indeed they are, and they've had centuries to entrench their power. You'll need allies, Caleb. A crew of your own, each with unique skills and perspectives. And you'll need to master the Regalia, to unlock its full potential."

"And how exactly do I do that?" I asked, glancing down at the seemingly innocuous bracelet on my wrist.

Zephyrion's grin widened, taking on a decidedly mischievous cast. "Why, my dear boy, that's where the real adventure begins. Are you ready for your first lesson in bending reality to your will?"

As I nodded, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through me, I couldn't help but feel that I was standing on the precipice of something monumental. The path ahead was unclear, fraught with dangers I could scarcely imagine. But for the first time in my life, I felt a sense of true purpose.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever forces stood in our way, I was determined to see this through. For Zadeek, for the people of the Plunkaris system, and for the dream of a better future that now burned brightly in my heart.

"I'm ready," I said, straightening my shoulders. "Teach me everything."