The dim glow of the lanterns barely cut through the musty air inside the Mushroom Tower’s quiet chamber. Dust swirled lazily in the shafts of light filtering through the cracked windows, and the faint echoes of distant revelry drifted up from the streets below. The night had grown quiet, with most of the city caught up in the aftermath of the festival, but inside the tower, a different kind of conversation was brewing.

  Eugene leaned forward, elbows resting on the worn wooden table, an incredulous look on his face. “So,” he said, glancing between Bahumbus and Qlaark, “Krungus and Utopianna… they were never a thing?”

  Bahumbus, perched on the edge of his stool, let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “Nope. Not the way you’re thinking.” He stirred the last remnants of his tea, his eyes distant with old memories. “But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t something there.”

  Eugene blinked. “What? Come on, you’re telling me there was never anything romantic between them?”

  Across the room, Qlaark leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “I mean, they had something, that’s for sure,” he said with a shrug. “Saw them last night after the ceremony. You don’t look at someone like that unless you’ve got history.” He cast a glance at Bahumbus. “But yeah, I never really got the details. Just figured it was... complicated.”

  A slow, knowing smile spread across Bahumbus’s face. “Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Back in the day, every boy in the City wanted Utopianna. She wasn’t just powerful—she was something more. Grace, wisdom, beauty, mystery... and kindness. The whole package.”

  Eugene scoffed. “Sounds exhausting.”

  “Maybe,” Bahumbus mused, “but Krungus and Sharrzaman? They didn’t just want her. They decided she was theirs.”

  Eugene frowned. “What do you mean, decided?”

  Bahumbus chuckled. “Well, you know how Krungus is—always larger than life, always convinced he’s destined for greatness. Sharrzaman was his twin in this regard. And when it came to Utopianna, they both thought they were the ones who’d win her heart.” He tapped the table with a finger. “Thing is... Krungus changed over time. What started as him wanting to be with her became something else.”

  Qlaark raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  A wistful sigh escaped Bahumbus. “At first, it was the usual nonsense—trying to impress her, showing off, making grand gestures. But after a while, Krungus realized he didn’t need to win her over. He was just... happy to have her in his life. Didn’t matter how or in what way. He loved her, not the idea of her.” He paused, a touch of admiration in his voice. “I think that’s what made him different.”

  Eugene tilted his head. “And Sharrzaman?”

  A shadow passed over Bahumbus’s face. “He never let it go. Never saw Utopianna as a person the way Krungus did. To him, it was always about... ownership.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But Sharrzaman was smart. He saw what mattered to her—helping others, making a difference—and he figured out that was his way in. Every time she needed help, there he was. Offering solutions, lending his talents.”

  A low whistle escaped Eugene. “So he found a way to stay in her life?”

  “Exactly,” Bahumbus said. “He couldn’t make her love him, but he made himself useful.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Krungus, though? He didn’t need all that. He just... was. And she loved him for it. I think that’s what drove Sharrzaman crazy.”

  Eugene frowned, deep in thought. “So, Krungus just accepted it? Accepted that he might never be with her?”

  Bahumbus nodded. “Yeah. And he was okay with it. For him, it was enough to just be part of the same world as her. He had this quiet confidence about it. I think that’s why it was so easy for him to let go of all the competition nonsense.” His face darkened slightly. “And I think that’s what made Sharrzaman finally snap.”

  Qlaark shifted, watching Eugene closely. “You’re saying that’s why he...?”

  Bahumbus nodded grimly. “Yeah. I think Sharrzaman trapped Krungus because he couldn’t stand the fact that Krungus was happy without having her. And that confidence... it made Sharrzaman look small in comparison.”

  Silence stretched across the room, the weight of old grudges and forgotten battles settling between them like a heavy fog.

  Eugene finally spoke. “And Utopianna? Does she know?”

  Bahumbus hesitated, staring down at his empty cup. “I don’t know. If she does, she’s never said anything. And Krungus?” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think he’s ever had the heart to tell her.”

  Qlaark, who had been listening intently, rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a lot to carry.”

  Eugene let out a long breath. “Yeah. Nine thousand years in a prison and he’s still not sure if she knows the truth.” He leaned back, rubbing his face. “What a mess.”

  Bahumbus offered a small smile. “Love usually is.”

  A distant burst of fireworks lit up the night sky outside, illuminating the room in flashes of color. Qlaark watched them thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing. “Whatever happened between them... it’s still there. I saw it last night.”

  Eugene nodded slowly. “Yeah, well... here’s what I don’t understand still: why does Krungus appear to be Utopianna’s great-great grandfather? Aren’t they about the same age?”

  Bahumbus grinned but it looked painful. “Well, now that’s an interesting thing.Yes it is true that all of us who make up the original Number are basically the same age, especially considering we are all over nine thousand years old. But why then do we all look different ages? Why does Krungus look older than all of us combined? The short answer is the same as why Krungus got caught in that pocket prison plane thing: jealousy.”

  The warm glow of enchanted lanterns flickered across the Mushroom Tower’s chamber as Eugene placed the ornate brass lantern carefully onto the table. Its intricate carvings shimmered faintly, humming with an otherworldly presence. The group—Krungus, Utopianna, Bahumbus, B’doom, Qlaark, Brenna, and Eugene—watched in anticipation, the air thick with expectation.

  Eugene gave the lantern a sharp tap. “Alright, Cozimia, time to talk.”

  A soft, melodic hum echoed through the room, and with a swirl of shimmering golden mist, the group was pulled into the lantern’s ethereal realm.

  A vast, dreamlike parlor stretched out before them, rich with velvet drapes and floating islands of cushions, shimmering with an iridescent glow. The scent of jasmine and old magic swirled through the air, and atop an opulent divan, Cozimia lounged with a knowing smile. She was a vision of radiant beauty, with flowing silks in hues of gold and deep indigo, and eyes that shimmered like sunlit honey.

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  “Well, look what the wind done blown in,” she drawled, her voice dripping with that warm southern charm. “Y’all must be real desperate if you’re knockin’ on my door this late.”

  Krungus stepped forward, his expression grave. “We need answers about Null.”

  Cozimia’s playful smile faded into something more serious, and she sighed, stretching her arms with exaggerated grace. “Oh, sugar... I was afraid you’d say that.” She snapped her fingers, and swirling smoke took shape in the form of a towering, shadowy figure—Null.

  The group stared at the smoky illusion—an eight-foot-tall humanoid, cloaked in ragged robes, its face obscured by writhing shadows.

  “That’s him,” Krungus muttered, his jaw tightening.

  Cozimia nodded, crossing one leg over the other. “Mmhmm. That’s your boy. But let me tell you somethin’, sugar—he ain’t no eldritch horror. Null wasn’t born from the void or summoned from some dark abyss.” She leaned forward. “He was human, once. And a warlock just like you, twisted by years of bad decisions and worse company.”

  Bahumbus raised an eyebrow. “Human?”

  Cozimia nodded, swirling a golden mist around her fingertips. “That’s right, darlin’. He was a man, just like any other, 'til he got tangled up with the wrong sort of power.” She gestured, and the smoky image shifted into a twisted, flickering shape—something that flickered in and out of existence, never settling.

  “The one who did this to him?” she continued. “A Jennie of Ambition.”

  Eugene leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “Jennie?”

  Cozimia flashed a pearly grin. “Oh, honey, yes. A Jennie. Y’all seem to think we’re all good-natured and sweet as pie, but lemme tell you—ambition’s a tricky thing. Most of my kind, we’re about helpin’ folks find their way, nudgin’ them toward what they truly desire... but this one?” She snapped her fingers, the smoke curling tighter. “She didn’t nudge. She shoved.”

  Krungus frowned. “You’re saying a Jennie corrupted him?”

  Cozimia nodded. “That’s right, sugar. Most Jennies are about cultivatin’ dreams, not crushin’ them. But this one... she took that poor warlock’s desire for greatness and twisted it up so tight, he couldn’t tell up from down anymore. Filled his head with all these big ideas—power, legacy, control.” She sighed. “And now? He’s become somethin’ worse. An empty shell driven by hunger, always needin’ more.”

  B’doom rumbled, his expression dark. “What does he want now?”

  Cozimia’s eyes narrowed. “Everything, sugar. He ain’t satisfied with just bein’ powerful—he wants to rewrite reality. He’s got it in his head that he can be the one who decides what’s real and what ain’t.”

  Brenna shifted uncomfortably. “So he’s after... what? Control over the world?”

  Cozimia shook her head. “Not just the world, darlin’. Time, memory, history. He wants to make sure he’s the only thing that matters. And if he can’t control somethin’? Well, he’ll just erase it.”

  Qlaark groaned. “Great. So we’re dealing with a megalomaniac with reality-bending powers.”

  Eugene crossed his arms. “And the Jennie? Is she still around?”

  A dark shadow passed over Cozimia’s face. “That’s the thing, sugar—I don’t know. Jennies don’t usually stick around after they get what they want, and I would imagine thats doubly true for a Jenny of Ambition. They plant the seed and move on. But this one? She might still be lurkin’, watchin’ to see if her little project pays off.”

  Krungus gritted his teeth. “Why did he even show up here?”

  Cozimia tapped her chin thoughtfully. “He came down from the sky, lookin’ like some kind of divine punishment. Descended over Bahumbus’ little patch of land, bold as brass.” She shot Bahumbus a wink. “Good thing your sentries had the sense to chase him off before he could get too comfortable.” She paused.

  Bahumbus beamed. “Damn right, they did.”

  “But, no, I do not know why they would show up at this time. Y’all rattled him, sure, but he’s out there, regroupin’, plannin’ his next move. Ambition isn’t gonna just leave ya be.” Cozimia leaned back.

  Krungus looked at the others. “Then we need to stop him before he tries again.”

  Cozimia smirked. “Good luck with that, sugar. Null ain’t like your everyday villain. You can’t just punch him into next week.” She tapped the side of her head. “You’ve gotta outthink him. He’s still got that human mind underneath all that corruption, and that’s where he’s weakest.”

  Krungus nodded. “Right now, our priority is Null.” He looked at Cozimia. “Any suggestions?”

  Cozimia’s smile softened. “Find what he’s after, sugar. He’s got a plan, and if you can figure out what it is before he makes his next move, you might just stand a chance.”

  The group exchanged glances, the weight of the task ahead hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

  Eugene sighed. “Alright. Thanks, Cozimia.”

  She winked from within the lantern. “Anytime, sugar. But do try to keep all your limbs intact, hmm?”

  With a graceful wave, golden mist enveloped the group, and in an instant, they were back in the Mushroom Tower, the lantern now resting silently on the center table.

  Krungus stretched his arms and exhaled slowly. “Alright. We know what he is. Now we need to figure out what he wants.”

  Bahumbus cracked his knuckles, metal on metal clinking faintly. “And if he comes back, my sentries will be ready for him. No surprises this time.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Eugene muttered, glancing at the maps and schematics Krungus had scattered across the table. His gaze lingered on one crude drawing that looked more like a giant stick figure on fire than anything useful. Was it supposed to be Null? Why would Krungus be attempting to draw the enemy?

  Krungus, noticing the smirk on Eugene's face, frowned. “What are you grinning at?”

  “Just admiring your artistry, Krungus," Eugene quipped, tapping the drawing. "It’s inspiring, really. I didn’t know you spent that 9,000 years perfecting your stick figure technique.”

  Bahumbus snorted a laugh, and Qlaark struggled to keep a straight face. B’doom’s trunk gave a small trumpet-like noise.

  Krungus’s smirk turned razor-sharp when he realized he was being laughed at by his fellow wizards. “Oh, so you think you’re funny, Calhoun? Let’s get real. I helped build a civilization from nothing, guided generations of mages, and survived 9,000 years trapped in a pocket dimension I stole from the Lord of Decay. You? You can’t even find your way home. Home, Eugene. You think it’s impressive to kill a guard? Without that gaudy tchotchke someone gave you, even those guards would have ended your sad life!”

  The room fell into stunned silence. Bahumbus’s grin froze, and even Qlaark shifted uncomfortably, his feathers ruffling. Eugene’s face went pale, then flushed red with fury.

  Utopianna’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade. “Krungus.”

  He blinked, surprised by the cold steel in her tone.

  “That was cruel,” she said, stepping forward with measured calm. “You’ve changed, Krungus. You used to be fierce, yes—but never petty. You’ve always been sharp, but not like this. Not so... vicious.”

  Krungus stiffened and looked away, as if ashamed to meet her gaze. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Well, maaaaybe, just maybe Utopianna, being imprisoned for nine thousand years could have had an effect on me."

  “Maybe,” she said softly, though the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed. “But you don’t have to let that define you. You were better than this before. You can be better now.”

  The tension hovered in the air for a long moment before Krungus sighed and turned back to Eugene. “Fine. I... might’ve gone a little far.”

  Eugene took a slow, deliberate step forward, his expression hardening. "You think?" His voice was calm but full of venom. “But hey, it’s fine. I get it. You’ve been locked away for so long that you probably forgot what home even means. Must be nice having a city to come back to, even if no one missed you.”

  Bahumbus gasped audibly, his eyes wide in shock. Qlaark let out a sharp, surprised squawk, struggling to contain a nervous laugh.

  Before Krungus could retort, Utopianna raised a hand, her calm presence immediately silencing the room. “Enough.” Her voice was quiet, but it held the weight of command, pulling everyone's attention.

  She stepped between the two, her gaze flicking between Eugene and Krungus. “This isn’t how the Number survives. We can’t afford fractures—not now. There has to be respect, even in disagreement. Without it, we fall apart.”

  Krungus’s jaw tensed, but he averted his eyes, a begrudging acceptance creeping into his expression. Eugene, meanwhile, felt the heat of embarrassment rising in his cheeks, realizing how quickly the situation had spiraled.

  “Both of you,” Utopianna continued, her tone softer now but still firm, “are better than this. The Number only works when its members see past their egos.”

  Eugene swallowed hard, breaking eye contact with Krungus. “Yeah… you’re right. I got carried away.”

  Krungus exhaled through his nose. “Maybe I did too.”

  Utopianna offered a faint smile, satisfied. “Good. Because we’ll need each other before this is over.”

  The tension eased, and Eugene cracked a small grin. “Though, for the record, that drawing still sucks.”

  Krungus let out a begrudging chuckle. “I’ll give you that one, Calhoun.”

  Bahumbus, who had been holding in his laughter, finally burst out, slapping the table. “Now that’s more like it!”

  Even Utopianna allowed herself a gentle smile before she turned away, leaving the two to reflect on the brief but meaningful truce.