Having conceded at last that his Mungness had been deceived by the absurd contrivances of the Muggulando, and forced to confront the unlikely truths behind the words of his outcast former consort, many questions still plagued every dimension of the mind of Uqqurt-sen. Whyever would the Muggulando, who had created all of Mung in near-perfect harmony, and governed Mung with what had always seemed like an upright and honest integrity, fail to realise that his game of croquet required fourteen worlds. Was it possible that the Muggullando could have made such a mistake, or had he realised it but been unable to amend it? Surely it would be well within the power of one who had created the Manyworlds of Mung to create a single additional world? What, then, had led to the existence of the Missing Piece?
It could hardly have escaped the notice of one so powerful that there are two balls to every player in a game of croquet. The creation of an uneven number can therefore only be postulated to have been a precautionary measure, should one of the balls break or get lost in a particularly rambunctious match. In a game of croquet executed not merely on an interdimensional level, but even on an interplanetary one, where damage to any given world is of a high likelyhood, and damage to the host’s reputation more perilous than ever, such a precaution is surely a necessary one. But this, dear reader, is where the Muggulando’s machinations went awry. For, although he had foreseen the need for more than twelve worlds to act as balls in his deranged game of croquet, he had not foreseen the arrival of a sixth and uninvited guest. As is well known to anyone who has ever heard the tale of the Evil King of Kloxias as a child, one must always account for uninvited guests, and one must never dissatisfy one when they have arrived at one’s garden party.
Of course, it is true that no garden party could be considered a garden party of any real note without a good game of croquet. It is true also that no host of a garden party should ever embark on a game of croquet without first offering their guests plenty of refreshments: the subtle art of croquet is not one that tolerates an empty stomach. As you will no doubt know already, the Muggulando’s ability to throw garden parties was entirely without rival in the Manyworlds of Mung, and yet no-one in Mung could ever report that they had been to one. No Steward within Mung had, of course, ever dared to divulge their inexperience in the Muggulando’s garden parties, for each merely thought they they themselves had not been worthy of the Muggulando’s attention, and that the other stewards must meanwhile have attended such garden parties and simply been too polite, if not pitying, to mention this in their company.
Having discovered, then, an inconsistency in the fact that the Muggulando, while renowned for their garden parties, had never appeared to host any – or indeed, devoted much personal attention to any of the Stewards at all, a fact which each Steward had in turn been too ashamed to admit – we were able to circle in on the real reason that the Muggulando had not been able to simply create the Fourteenth world himself. This revelation was originally born out of close observation of an entity known as Albert, who in the running of an interdimensional supermarket of Emporium, was too occupied keeping the store running to pay much individual attention to those within it. Similarly, it transpired, the Muggulando, though far outstripping any of his Stewards individually in power, was kept in a stasis of sorts by his obligation of hospitality to his guests. Embroiled in an infinite barbeque, the Muggulando never had the chance to leave his own garden party, forced to entertain his guests without kindling their suspicion about the incomplete croquet set. Naturally, this reliance on his Stewards left the Muggulando vulnerable to attack, too heavily reliant on keeping both his subjects and his guests in the dark.
- an excerpt of The Manymysteries of Mung, a tome scribed by Tooka at the behest of Uqqurt-sen, High Source of Sorcery, Divine Steward of Lyx, Transpoiler of Dreaming, Them that dwells in the castle of Light
Hyperlight Wyrms are most probably the third most powerful of the beings of the ManyWorlds of Mung, after only the Muggullando and the Divine Stewards themselves. Looking remarkably like what you might find if a lamprey had a baby with a dragon that was also a millipede, but was also moving 1) at the speed of light squared. Some 2) say they swam the Outer Dark before there was Mung, but of course that is rather incompatible with the Muggullando’s account of how Mung came to be, so this is normally just considered to be boasting.
It is on account of said swimming that Uqqurt-sen recruited this particular Wyrm, called Jeremy, to transport themself, Tooka and Opo-set to where their magic revealed the Fourteenth World Must Not Be. Notoriously difficult to satisfy, they attempted to sway Jeremy to their side with their famous Dragoncheesecake. It was of course rather too small for the gargantuan Spacewyrm, but after making it a million times bigger Jeremy was well and truly stuffed. Of course it then became a million times smaller, but Jeremy was on a diet so couldn’t be happier with this outcome.
The Hyperlight Wyrm breaks, rapidly decelerating in a brilliant burst of gamma rays 3), coming to a stop 4) above the world that is not.
Tooka holds himself close to Uqqurt-sen’s waist. While Lyxians are rather marvellous (if Uqqurt-sen does say so themself), they do have an alarming tendency to implode/freeze/inverse-apotheosise5) in the Hyperspace between the ManyWorlds of Mung. As such Tooka is not not keen to be away from Uqqurt-sen’s protective magics. Behind the two, Opo-set stares eagerly into the Space before the group.
Now, there is an awful lot of space in space but somehow there is space in this space in particular. It is subtle: one would never notice unless they knew exactly what they were looking for, and where. It is no surprise no-one ever found the Missing Piece: were one to compare it to looking for a needle in a haystack, except that the needle was in fact not a needle but a particular piece of hay that wasn’t there, and the haystack that was bigger than the Universe… well… they would be greatly exaggerating the simplicity of the problem.
Jeremy’s voice rumbles out across space: ‘I like this place you have taken us not, Uqqurt-Sen. I agreed to take you somewhere and you have directed me to Nowhere. Be quick about your business, little Steward, that I might return to the Hyperlanes.’
Uqqurt-sen assures Jeremy that they will be here not a moment longer than they have to. Turning to their companions, they notice Tooka staring into the darkness, see the familiar glassy look fall across his eyes, as he intones mystically: ‘Fourteen. Thirteen that are and one that is not. Thirteen to equal their creator and one to surpass them. Fourteen, there must be.’
Opo-set turns from a slightly confused looking Tooka to Uqqurt-sen: ‘And do you think you can do it, Uqqurt-sen? You think you can create a Steward? Do what only the Muggullando should be able to do?’
They give Opo-Set a wink, the kind they haven’t shared with them in a very, very long time: they are Uqqurt-sen, who ventured beyond the Outer Dark, who shopped with Gods the likes of which would leave the Muggullando quaking in their Mungsday-tentacle-stocking, who bakes the best cheesecake in this corner of the Multiverse.
They think they can do it.
Uqqurt-sen clasps the ProtoSoul delicately. A thing of such magnificent potential: the seed of a new Steward. They recently met with the charming Dialethia, swapping cheesecake recipes and concocting a spell to Ensoul an Absence of such yawning magnitude.
They hold the ProtoSoul out before them in one hand, twisting the other in arcane gestures. Hyperspace contorts around them, the Multiverse cocks its head quizzically, Tooka passes out and Jeremy looks back at the Transpoiler of Dreaming queasily. They schemed how to keep Sorcery of such stupendous Highness from the Muggullando’s gaze, and now is the moment of truth: if they failed the overdeity’s betentacled judgement is sure to fall mercilessly upon the group.
In a scintillating aura of all the colours of magic a being begins to materialise in the Hyperspace before them. Streamers of magic and light and space, hewn from the raw stuff of Multiverse, entwining into divine life. The most magnificent magic ever conjured in the history of Mung, and if they did it right, no-one will even notice.
The new Entity floats gently, wings furled, eyes closed as if sleeping. Uqqurt-sen and Opo-set look upon them in wonder and concern. Did it work? They are not quite like either of the Stewards. Indeed, there is something… off about them. Not that one would expect otherwise from a Present Absence, but are they off in the right way?
The new Steward’s luminous eyes flick open.
Their gaze turns upon Uqqurt-sen, and they say their first words: ‘I am the Steward of the Absence of Phum, that Which Would Be the Fourteenth of the ManyWorlds of Mung. As long as I am, Phum is not.’
Then, they turn from their creator to Jeremy to Tooka to Opo-Set and finally back again: ‘I’m terribly sorry to ask, but as I only just started existing: are you my mother/father/parent?’
It's come to this, then. Uqqurt-sen and Opo-set are currently hidden under the latter's wings as they observe their surroundings. It's… an odd sight, for certain. The barrier surrounding the Fulcrum didn't let any light out, so they could not see from outside what was happening, but now they're inside…
It really is a garden party. Complete with barbeques over flames the colour of the cosmos at their inception. At the centre of it all is a tower that reaches into the sky and far beyond your sight, made of some kind of pearlescent material. A tentacle occasionally reaches out from various openings in the tower to tend the barbecues and serve food to the guests. You count six guests in total, all happily eating and chatting, but there's a note of impatience in the air.
“We're going to need some kind of distraction.” Opo-set notes, “There's no way the others will be able to get though that barrier unless the Muggullando's focus is directed elsewhere.”
They're not wrong. The only way the two could get through themselves was under the concealing presence of Opo-set's wings, too small to fit any more.
“Right,” Uqqurt-sen nods, “I think I have a plan for that. It might be a long shot, though…”
“Everything we do is a long shot, dear. Let's hear it.” If the term of endearment is noticed, it is not acknowledged. Right now, they have work to do…
“I didn't expect you to come here yourself,” a voice that sounds like it's bubbling through primordial oceans echoes throughout the tower. “I thought I told you to restore the Missing Piece yourself. Or could you not even manage that?”
Uqqurt-sen, now alone and inside the tower, cannot see the source of the voice. Somewhere above, maybe? But it's definitely seen them.
“What can I say, I couldn't bring myself to do it.”
“Couldn't or wouldn't? You used to be so loyal. Even your old consort could not bring you away from my service. What changed?” The voice seems genuinely curious. The way one might be about an ant walking out of line with its companions.
“The truth happened,” Uqqurt-sen states grimly, “I know what you're planning. Lyx, and all the worlds of Mung, are not your playthings.”
“Quite the contrary. You were created by me for the sole purpose of my entertainment. Why should I not use you all as intended.”
“Because we're alive!” Uqqurt-sen is suddenly shouting, “We have hopes and dreams for a future that involve more than being smacked around your cosmic lawn!”
“Maybe so,” the voice intones, and Uqqurt-sen notices several tentacles slithering towards them from all directions, “But you have come to me with nothing but empty words. What do you, my creation, think you can do alone? Here? At the heart of my domain?”
“I'm not alone,” Uqqurt-sen states, before snapping their fingers and releasing the magic they'd been holding.
Opo-set, previously shrunk and hidden by Uqqurt-sen's powers, is suddenly many times larger than they have any right to be and more importantly, for a fraction of an instant, the Muggullando's attention rests entirely on them. Uqqurt-sen quickly calls into a communicator on their wrist, a last, cheap, impulse buy from Emporium. “NOW!”
The effect is instantaneous, as suddenly countless beings enter the Fulcrum. The remaining stewards, and more Hyperlight Wyrms and other creatures of the Outer Dark than most could count. Along with them is the Fourteenth Steward, the Absence of Phum, their wings casting a silhouette like a hole in space over the lawn.
Everything quickly descends into chaos, both inside and out. The guests, realising their long awaited game is being sabotaged, move to engage with the invaders, while within the tower, tentacles start to tear through walls in an effort to ensnare the two intruders as they fight their way upwards, using a combination of their powers to alternately freeze and burn through anything in their way.
“TRAITOROUS CRETINS!” The enraged voice of the Muggullando echoes through the tower. “IF THIS IS THE LOYALTY YOU SHOW TO YOUR MASTER, YOU HAVE NO PURPOSE HERE. BEGONE!”
The entire floor they're on shatters under their feet as they fall. As they do, a writhing mass of appendages that curl in more directions than the Stewards can see in begins to descend after them as they struggle to their feet. Uqqurt-sen quickly expands the space they're in with magic to give them room to avoid the body of their adversary as it collapses on top of them. They still have to worry about the tentacles though, and it's all Uqqurt-sen can do to keep bending space to allow the pair new escape routes every time another attack is made.
“You've got to get out of here, I can't hold it for much longer!” They cry to their companion.
“I'm not leaving you behind!” Opo-set yells back. Quick, take my hand!
Uqurt-sen does so, and as soon as they do, they are dragged unceremoniously out the nearest window by Opo-set. Tentacles follow after them, twisting impossibly to cut them off, when Uqqurt-sen's hold on their magic slips…
And the entire tower snaps back into shape, and beyond, shrinking down to the thickness of a straw.
“AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!” An ear-splitting shriek is let loose from the tower as the Muggullando is crushed within it. The would-be-partygoers and rebels alike stare in awe at the scene.
Celebrations are short-lived, however, as tentacles as thick as the tower was earlier begin to erupt from the ground.
“YOU DARE!?” The Muggullando bellows in outrage, “YOU DARE TO INFLICT SUCH HIDEOUS INJURIES ON ME! IN FRONT OF MY GUESTS!”
“Yes, we dare!” Opo-set stands defiantly, “For our people, and all who stand to suffer at your whim, we dare quite a bit.”
“Come on, everyone,” Uqqurt-sen rallies the other stewards as the Hyperlight Wyrms keep the guests busy.
And with a mighty roar, the final battle commences.
“Many lives were lost that day. While the rebels ultimately won the day, their greatest strength, aside from their determination, was their numbers. Against the smaller but much stronger force of the Muggullando, losses were all but inevitable. Still, they were able to defeat their adversary, and it's because of this that the worlds of Mung can enjoy the peace and freedom they do today. Their sacrifices will always be remembered.” The old Lyxian closes the book they were reading from before looking out over the class. “Any questions?”
“But Tooka, what happened to Uqqurt-sen and Opo-set! Did they make it? Were things okay between them?” The Lyxian child is on the edge of her seat in excitement.
“Now now, little one. Suffice it to say that they both emerged from the battle alive, albeit not without scars. But I think they've earned their privacy after all that. Don't you?”