I never believed in magic. Gold, yes. Treasure maps, absolutely. But genies? Wishes? That’s for fairy tales and fools. Yet here I am, clinging to the edge of my own flying Money Bin, the wind howling like a banshee, while a sorcerer with a griffin’s wings tries to knock me into oblivion.

It started in the desert. Just a dusty chest, a forgotten map, and Webby holding a tarnished lamp like it was a toy. I let her keep it. Seemed harmless.

Then the kids found the Genie. Three wishes each. They brought a baby elephant into my mansion. A baby elephant. Ice cream sundaes the size of buildings. Chaos. And all the while, Merlock was hunting us—centuries old, power-mad, and armed with a talisman that lets him cheat the rules.

Now he’s got the lamp. The Money Bin is airborne. My nephews are dodging magical blasts, Webby’s screaming, and Launchpad’s trying to fly a biplane into a storm.

I’ve got one chance. The lamp’s slipping from my grip. Merlock’s talisman glints in his claws. If I fall… if he wins… the world bends to his will.

But I’ve got one wish left. Just one.

What do I do?