Chapter 1

The Portalier leaned back in his deck chair and looked up at the starry sky. The night was quiet and serene, as peaceful as things ever got for him, especially if he ignored the soft whirring of GATO’s healing ray as it swept across his skin. This was the closest he had come to a holiday in longer than he cared to admit. GATO, of course, knew the exact number of days, and he could practically feel her eagerness to tell him.

She hovered beside him like an excited puppy waiting for treats, which was amusing considering her form had been inspired by a cat. The large white orb glowed faintly, her pointed ears twitching and her neon electric pink eyes fixed completely on him.

“My goodness, sir, can you believe it has been 247 since your last return to your safe zone. Please stay as still as you can. Healing is now at sixty-eight percent.”

The Portalier tried to sit still, but every time he did, he immediately felt ants in his pants or a sudden, irresistible urge to itch his nose. Today was no different, and his nose had chosen this exact moment to annoy him. Even so, he was grateful for the break from his mission. Rest gave him a moment to breathe, even if it also gave him time to think, which always opened the same familiar pit in his stomach.

GATO’s bright eyes dimmed slightly. She could heal fractured bones and burned skin, but she could do nothing for a broken heart. She never spoke about his family anymore, and he preferred it that way. 

Her voice softened. “Once you are fully healed, sir, I will prepare your favorite pineapple drink. The umbrella selection is excellent today.”

“Thank you,” he began, but something in the sky caught his eye before he could finish.

A faint flicker shimmered across the darkness. A cosmic ripple. That should not have been possible. If a ripple was coming, GATO would have warned him. His attention sharpened as he adjusted his goggles and studied one of the stars overhead. It shuddered and distorted, pulsing like a faulty beacon. 

Of course it was not a real star. That was simply how his mind interpreted the multiverse. The goddess Kythia had once explained that every point of light represented a story world, and one of them was clearly in trouble.

Behind him, GATO’s central compartment was open as she searched for decorations for his drink. “I have located the cheerful bubblegum-pink umbrellas that finish the drink off nicely.” 

She paused as she followed his gaze. Her bright eyes scanned the sky. “That is highly irregular, sir. Instability detected.”

“I hoped I was imagining it,” he said quietly. “What exactly am I looking at?”

“Running probability calculations now.” A pop-up screen appeared in his vision. GATO’s tone grew crisp. “Would you like a close-up of the point of interest?”

“Yes.”

The image resolved into a view of a coastline. It zoomed further until it revealed a small cottage overlooking the sea. It narrowed again to a pebble beach, and there the Portalier saw a tiny squid, moving quickly across the stones. Something small shimmered in his tentacles.

“Are those what I think they are?”

“Glass bottles,” GATO said. “Each one contains a miniature message.”

“How many other inhabitants does this world have?”

“One moment.” Another pause. “Sir, this explains why the world was not included in our alerts. It is an untold story. There are no longer any other inhabitants on the planet. Only Paul.”

“The little squid is called Paul?”

“Yes, sir. And if we do not act quickly, he will be gone before the night is out.”

“Why tonight?” He scratched his jaw. “And why is he still here, if the rest of his world has vanished.”

“He has been trapped in a ritual cycle,” GATO said. “Every year he prepares a Midwinter Feast to honor the memory of the one who named him.”

“And the bottles?”

“They are invitations to his feast. He has been lonely for a very long time.”

On the viewing screen, Paul flung three bottles out to sea as far as his small tentacles allowed. He hurried back across the pebbles toward the cottage, leaving a trail of fresh ink behind him.

“So his world will end because no one will receive the invitations?” the Portalier frowned.

“Oh stars above, no,” GATO shook her head. “According to my calculations, something else is approaching. Something dangerous.”

The view followed Paul inside the cottage. He climbed onto a table beside a perfectly basted turkey. The sight brushed against an old memory the Portalier kept tightly buried.

“You warn me about approaching danger, and meanwhile a squid is proudly standing over a perfectly basted turkey. Where I come from, squids do not eat turkey, let alone cook one.”

GATO chuckled. “Some of the finest chefs in the multiverse are squid, sir. Their tentacles offer excellent precision. Paul is special, but we do not have time to explore his origins right now.”

Paul hummed a festive tune while he heaved the turkey into the oven. He reached for a pair of chopsticks and started chatting to them as he worked. “You can be proud of me. No ink splashes this time. I wish you could see it. Guess what. I sent three invitations out to sea in glass bottles today.” 

He waved his tentacles in excitement. “I have a really, really, really good feeling, and I cannot wait for my guests to try your Midwinter recipes.”

The Portalier felt something shift inside him, a quiet ache stirred by the hope in the squid’s small and cheerful voice.

“GATO,” he said softly, “go and collect those bottles. Bring the invitations back here.”

“Sir…” GATO hesitated, her tone dropping. “My analysis is complete. This is an untold story. The system intends to let it naturally fade. Intervention is not recommended.”

On the screen, Paul hopped onto the windowsill, chopsticks still held in his curled grip. “Look at that view. Remember all those sunrises we watched together?” 

He stared out the window. “I should get back to work. I need to make the yummy, yum-yum lichen berry sauce. Your favorite.” His voice bounced with cheerful energy. He reached for a jar on a high shelf and frowned at the empty bottom. “Oh no. All gone. Your Midwinter Feast is not complete without those. I can almost hear you telling me there are more out back. I need to forage for the rest of the ingredients anyway. And the sea air is wonderful for my complexion.”

He set the chopsticks down and began to hop away from the window when a shadow drifted across the glass. Paul spun in surprise, splattering ink across the counter and floor. “Oh. That was fast. Are you my first guest? My, oh my, what a beautiful snowy owl you are. ” 

The bird pecked at the window, glared, then flew away before Paul could get closer. “Don’t leave, the turkey isn’t…” he pleaded with big round eyes, glancing at the turkey cooking in the oven. “Poor birdie, I have offended you. I did not kill the turkey. It was in frozen storage for years.”

The Portalier rose to his feet. “The goddess placed her trust in me, and something tells me that if we do not intervene, Paul will not simply fade like a sun-bleached photograph. He will suffer.”

GATO’s voice lowered. “The cosmic ripple you noticed is the signature of a seasonal rift. It feeds on grief. You’re very right, sir. Paul will be tormented long before he fades from existence.”

The Portalier hesitated. Intervention was against protocol. He was exhausted and barely healed after their last mission. But leaving the poor creature to face such torture when he had the power to help.

“I cannot allow that to happen,” he said quietly. “His story is connected to the other worlds we have helped. I can feel it.”

“Yes, sir. If his story falls, the others may follow.”

“Then we stop it,” he said. “Fetch Paul’s Midwinter Feast invitations and convert them into system messages. I know exactly who to send them to.”

* * *

Paul used to love mornings like this. The sunlight danced across the cottage window in colors most creatures never saw. He remembered explaining it once to Mina, telling her it wasn’t just gold; it was warm honey-gold tangled with soft blue shimmer, the kind that meant the air tasted gentle and the breeze smelled like clean salt.

His tentacles flickered with tiny dots of bioluminescent light, a soft reminder to keep finding joy.

He sniffed the air, tasting colors the way other creatures tasted food. The turkey in the oven smelled like warm brown and light sage green, which meant it was cooking perfectly. The rosemary was a bright blue whisper, so he knew he’d added just enough. Everything was going as planned.

A memory stirred. Mina’s laugh — light, warm, and bubbling like soft silver light across his vision.

“I will make everything just right.” He pulled out his favorite foraging basket. “Just like you would have. Now let’s go see where those lichen berries are hiding.”

Outside, sea spray sparkled through the air and tickled his skin. He followed the winding path toward the little secret garden. He did not visit it often anymore; it made him both happy and sad. He clicked the gate shut behind him to keep the roundhogs out. They hadn’t appeared in a long time.

He had barely reached the lichen berry bushes when a bright flash stopped him. The bushes were stripped bare with not a single berry left hanging. Another flash of light came, then another, flickering against the cottage walls. And… voices.

He hadn’t heard voices in so long.

The empty basket thumped to the ground as he scurried back along the path, popping and puffing against the breeze trying to push him backward. He rounded the corner, tentacles waving in frantic excitement.

“Hi new friends!” he shouted at full volume. “You made it. I am your Midwinter Feast’s night host, Paul!”

Three very confused figures stood outside the cottage. Two humans — one male, one female — and a bunny with sleek black fur glowing faintly purple.

Behind them, a man in goggles appeared, accompanied by a big white floating orb shaped like a cat’s head and roughly the size of a watermelon.

The man cleared his throat. He looked like someone used to giving instructions that reality itself obeyed. “My name is the Portalier.”

GATO spun in a full circle, pink eyes glowing brighter. “I am GATO, his ever helpful and entirely indispensable companion.”

Paul waved a grateful tentacle. “Thank you for accepting my invitations. What are your names?”

The young man turned to the armored young woman beside him. They exchanged a look that suggested they were already used to strange things. “I’m just glad it wasn’t Claude who teleported us. Otherwise we’d all be standing around naked.”

She snorted, nearly dropping the burning stick dangling from her lip. “If we go cosmic traveling to find Charlie, I’m not getting buck naked for anyone.”

Paul tilted his head. “So… what are your names,” he asked again with a wide smile.

Before they could answer, the bunny huffed, sparks flickering from his whiskers. “Oh, so that was the system message? I didn’t read the whole thing. I thought it was a quick escape from death by… well, anything with wings and teeth, honestly.”

The male blinked at him.

The bunny narrowed his glowing eyes. “What are you staring at, numbnuts? Never heard a bunny talk before?”

The male shook his head slowly and stepped back.

The female scowled. “He has had run-ins with tower monsters that looked like you. Only bigger.”

“Do not let my size fool you, sweet cheeks,” the bunny said, puffing her chest out. “I am the most powerful one here. Except maybe the nerdy guy in goggles.”

The male grinned. “What’s your name?”

“Binky.” She raised her paws, flexing muscles. “But you can call me Critical Bun, numbnuts. I’ll roll you across the ground if you want to test me. One arm wrestle and you’ll learn respect.”

The female scoffed and nudged the male forward. “Hunter would love a match.”

Hunter frowned. “You mean you would love to—” He stopped mid-sentence, head tilting as the sea breeze curled around them, carrying a rich, savory aroma from the cottage. “What in the divine heavens is that smell?”

Paul perked up, tentacles bouncing. “Oh! That’s my turkey, slow-roasting in its own baste.”

The female raised a brow. “You eat turkey?”

“Yes, I’m a magical squid.” He pointed a tentacle toward the ocean. “We didn’t get the chance at sea. But once I came on land and learned how to speak…” He sighed, then suddenly brightened, eyes widened. “Oh! The lovely birdie came back. And he brought friends.”

Everyone’s gaze lifted to the snow-white owl perched atop the cottage roof. A few more glided above them in lazy circles.

A loud crunch and slurp broke the moment.

The female nudged Hunter as he wiped juice from his chin. “You’re really eating that right now?”

“I couldn’t wait, He Xiangu,” he said. “I’ve been starving since Tower barricaded the kitchen.” Another sweet plum materialized in his hand. “Anyone else want one?”

The Portalier shook his head, eyes drifting toward GATO. “There are more owls.”

Binky scratched her ear. “Is it mating season?”

Paul squinted up at the flock. “I’ve never seen these birds before until today. And this is the first time we’ve had snow. Maybe they migrated?”

GATO turned, her back facing the group. “Should we tell them, sir?”

The Portalier adjusted his goggles. “No. We can’t intervene further.”

Hunter slurped again and flicked the pit toward the ocean. “Well, why are we all standing out here when Paul’s feast is waiting?”

Paul’s tentacles curled in on themselves. “Ah… about that.” He rubbed one across his face. “I went to pick lichen berries, but the frost wiped out the whole patch.”

GATO spun to face him, hovering closer. “They must know, sir.”

He Xiangu placed her hands on her hips, voice sharpening. “Must know what?”

The Portalier exhaled and nodded once. “Give them the quest.”

“Wait… quest?” Hunter pointed toward the cottage. “What about the turkey?”

“We can’t have turkey without the lichen berry sauce.” Paul wiggled. “That’s like cake without icing.”

GATO’s ears twitched. “And you’re missing more ingredients, aren’t you?”

“Only a tiny setback,” Paul said, teeth glinting with his smile. “The cheese, apricots, and sunray sugar also… vanished. Pop! Gone.”

“Quest initialized.” GATO tapped something unseen and nodded to the Portalier.

[Quest of the Midwinter Feast: Find the four ingredients for Paul’s festive tradition. Each of the ingredients will span across four realms: Tutorial World, Eedan, Underworld, and the unknown world.] 

Binky thumped her heel on the frost-crusted ground. “What’s this unknown world? A snake-infested jungle?”

GATO lifted her ears. “I can’t tell you until you arrive.”

Hunter’s mouth tugged into a smirk. “I bet it’s a desert. Dry, harsh, with a scorching sun.”

“No.” He Xiangu rolled her eyes. “It’ll be a beach with rolling waves.”

“Let’s make it an official bet,” Binky said, wagging her tail. “Whoever guesses the final destination gets to dare the others.”

Hunter arched his brow. “Anything?”

Binky nodded.

“Oh! Maybe it’ll be a mountain peak basking in a rainbow.” Paul traced a crescent above his head with a tentacle. “This is going to be fun.”

He Xiangu clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “Fine. Just remember my demon bloodline gives me an edge.”

Hunter snorted. “I’m in.”

Paul rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… how long will this quest take?”

GATO’s eyes shimmered like white noise. “Four hours.”

“Perfect! The turkey will be done by then.”

The Portalier beckoned her. “Let’s not waste time. Set your parameters for the first world.”

Hunter rubbed his hands together. “Four ingredients, four worlds, four hours. Faster than a tradaka work week.”

Light split the air beneath GATO, forming a shimmering oval.

“This is going to be festively fantastic!” Paul bounced, his ink splattering the frost.