I was having the best day of my life—well, technically, it was supposed to be. Eighteen years old, emperor of the entire Incan Empire, and I’d just announced the construction of Kuzcotopia, my personal paradise. No villagers, no interruptions, just me, my hot tub, and my theme song.

Then Yzma showed up. My so-called advisor. More like a creepy, cackling nightmare in a feathered headdress. She got fired. Deserved it. But apparently, she didn’t take it well.

Next thing I know, I’m drinking wine, feeling fabulous, and—BAM—everything goes fuzzy. I wake up in a sack, tossed like garbage, and then—oh, great—I’m a llama.

Not a metaphor. Not a dream. A literal, spit-happy, woolly llama.

And the only person who finds me? Pacha. The guy whose village I was about to bulldoze. Of course.

Now he’s standing there, looking at me like I’m a lost pet. I try to command him like normal, but all that comes out is a pathetic 'Bwheee?'

This is not how I saw my birthday ending.