The echo of the second booming knock reverberated through the stone, shivering along the winding staircase and shelves of the tower. Tower's eyes met Dumdum's, a flicker of unease passing between them like an invisible spark.

"Alright, cross your fingers, Dumdum. We're about to learn if it's friend or foe," Tower whispered, his childlike fingers gripping the cold iron handle of the door as if he could somehow channel courage from it. With a resolute tug, he yanked the door open.

The rusted hinges protested with a screech, yielding a gap just wide enough to reveal the night's intruder.

Framed by the doorway was an odd figure that melded childlike innocence with otherworldly features—a pair of feline ears twitched atop its head, and a bushy tail curled behind it. The creature's eyes, imbued with a naïve wonder, shifted nervously from Tower to Dumdum and back.

Its tiny hands clenched a four-leaf clover as if the plant could ward off any malevolence that the dark outside harboured.

"Um, greetings," Tower finally broke the thick air, his voice edged with caution.

The stranger's ears perked up. "Hello," it murmured, almost as if relieved to have not been attacked on sight. "I seem to be, uh, lost."

Tower's eyes narrowed slightly. "Name?"

"Bram, the Lucky Charm!" The Nixbob child beamed, eyes twinkling with an almost magical quality.

Tower paused, his gaze darting to Dumdum, whose interest had been piqued by the unfolding enigma before him. "Bram, the lucky charm?" Tower repeated, scepticism and curiosity battling within him. "That's oddly specific, don't you think?"

Dumdum, his feet padding softly against the worn stones of the floor, inched closer to the spectacle before him. His wide eyes darted from Tower to Bram and then to the fabled clover. "So, you reckon this leaf's supposed to be your lucky ticket? Doesn't seem like it's holding up its end of the bargain if you're lost."

"Yeah," Bram admitted, holding the clover aloft, its delicate petals quivering under scrutiny. "But I found you guys, so now I'm just half lost!"

A ripple of empathy passed through Tower's chest, tugging at something vulnerable deep inside him. His eyes met Bram's. "Well, maybe you're right and stumbling upon this tower is the clover finally doing its job. Want to come in?"

Bram's tail wove through the air in a sinuous pattern, a physical manifestation of his relief. "Oh, I'd like that very much!"

As Bram's small, furred feet crossed the threshold, Dumdum felt a peculiar sensation wash over him. There they were—a demon child bestowed with a warden duty, a goblin on a mission, and now this Nixbob boy not so lucky and not so lost.

The tower, with its spiralling corridors and arcane secrets, seemed to throb with an ineffable energy, as if acknowledging the motley assembly of lives now sheltered within its walls. For Dumdum, the realization struck like a bolt of arcane insight: this was no mere dwelling of bricks and enchantments. It had become a crucible for fates intertwining, a haven for the displaced, and perhaps even a stage upon which the destiny of their odd little world might be rewritten.

"Looks like we're collecting quite the roster of characters, aren't we?" Dumdum mused aloud, a hint of wonder tinging his usually sardonic tone.

Tower caught his gaze, a knowing smile pulling at the corners of his young face. "Yes," he agreed.

Tower shut the door behind them, the latch clicking into place with an air of finality. He turned to his companions, clearing his throat as if to herald a significant proclamation. "Bram, meet Dumdum. He's a... guest, let's say."

Bram's ears twitched, clearly pleased. "Nice to meet you too, Dumdum!"

"So, feel free to make yourself comfortable," Tower said, sweeping his arm in a gesture that took in the entirety of their eccentric surroundings. "As you can see, we're all wayfarers of a sort here. Dumdum's working on some undead affair in Ravendrift, and I have my jars to attend to."

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Bram's eyes lit up at the mention of jars. "Jars of what?"

Tower stepped closer to a shelf and gestured toward the collection of glass containers, each sealed with ornate corks and wax. "Jars of preserved happiness. Very rare. Very precious. And very much not to be meddled with."

A gasp escaped Bram's lips, his tail flicking wildly in a flurry of excitement. "Captured happiness? How awesome! That is so cool!"

"It's not as simple as it sounds," Tower said, his gaze falling pensively on his collection. Each jar seemed to throb with an inner light, as if calling out for something—or someone.

The room seemed to close in around them, its air thickening with the weight of unspoken words and untold tales. Dumdum scanned the faces of his newfound companions and felt an inkling, a premonition almost, that their meeting was more serendipitous than it seemed.

"Look," Dumdum finally broke the palpable silence, "why don't we get down to brass tacks? Bram, you're clearly lost. Tower has his obligations with these,"—he gestured vaguely toward the jars—"and I've got a bit of a necromantic mess to sort out in Ravendrift. Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to be mutually beneficial here."

The suggestion hung in the air, an invitation for something greater than any of them could yet imagine. It was Bram who seized it. "I'm supposed to be with Mummy! And Kirara!"

Tower arched an eyebrow. "And where is your mother, Bram?"

"In Ravendrift!"

Dumdum's eyes met Tower's, a flicker of realization crossing both faces. "See? I told you this was fate," Dumdum said with an air of vindication.

Tower's eyes narrowed, weighing the matter. "Fate or not, my Master expressly warned me against meddling in the affairs of Ravendrift."

Dumdum took a step closer, his voice softening. "Tower, look at him. He's just a kid. His mother must be out of her mind with worry. Can't we bend the rules a bit, for his sake?"

For a moment, Tower stood still, his gaze lingering on Bram's hopeful eyes, then shifting to Dumdum's imploring ones. The air seemed to hum around him as he reached his decision, the walls of the tower itself awaiting his verdict.

"Alright," Tower finally sighed, relenting under the weight of their collective hopes. "Let's sit down, all of us. We have much to discuss and perhaps, against all odds, a journey to plan."

The trio ambled to the kitchen. Tower navigated to an unassuming, chilly cabinet. As he opened it, a dim light flickered on, casting a cool glow on the small white box he pulled out. He served three bowls of what looked suspiciously like ice cream before stowing the box back into the icy chamber.

Finally seated, ice cream bowls in hand, Tower refocused. "Okay, so both of you need to be in Ravendrift. I, however, am not permitted to set foot there. Now what?"

Dumdum's spoon made a soft, slurping sound as he scooped up a mouthful of ice cream. "Does your Master even know where you are at this very moment?"

"Eh, doubtful," Tower responded, brows knitting together in contemplation.

"So, if you were to head off to Copperhead right now, would he have any clue?"

"No, I don't think so."

Dumdum slurped another spoonful, savouring the taste before pressing on. "So you could go to Copperhead?"

"Yes, I could go to Copperhead," Tower repeated, sensing the build-up but not quite grasping Dumdum's logic yet.

"And from Copperhead, you could then travel to Legward, yes?"

"Yeah, that's within my purview."

"And from Legward to Glockmere… From Glockmere, it's just a skip and a hop to Tear Lake."

At this, Tower's eyes widened, the realization crashing into him like a tidal wave. "I'd be close to Ravendrift! Not in Ravendrift, but close!"

"Exactly. And your Master wouldn't have a clue. You'd be aiding young Bram and me here, and yet you'd still be obedient to your Master's order," Dumdum concluded, his spoon capturing another sumptuous heap of ice cream.

The tension was suddenly cut by Tower. "But first, we need to protect the jars!"

Bram's eyes shimmered, reflecting the fluorescent kitchen light, making them look almost like two little stars caught in the web of his youthful excitement. Ice cream streaked his face in a messy testament to his exuberance. "We can help!" he said, each word wrapped in a sheen of innocent optimism.

Tower looked from one face to the other—Dumdum's aged wisdom and Bram's youthful eagerness—and felt the edge of decision solidify within him. "Alright," he conceded, eyes locking onto each of theirs. "We have ourselves a plan, then. But we're going to need plastic wrap and a hell of a lot of duct tape."

Dumdum raised an eyebrow, his spoon paused mid-air, dripping a small puddle of melting ice cream back into the bowl. "You need what now?"

"Don't worry," Tower reassured, leaning back in his chair and casting a knowing glance at a cabinet by the wall. "We've got everything we need right here."

In a fluid movement, he stood and walked toward the cabinet. The wooden doors creaked open, revealing stacks of plastic wrap and duct tape, among other supplies. It was as though the cabinet had been waiting for this moment, brimming with potential energy.

"As I said," Tower remarked, grabbing the supplies and placing them on the kitchen table, "all the tools we need are right here."

Bram's eyes widened further, if that was even possible, at the assortment of materials laid before him. Dumdum set his spoon down, looking from the supplies to Tower with an approving nod.

"Let's get to work," Tower declared, tearing off the first strip of duct tape with a satisfying rip. "We have a kid to return to his mum and a horde of undead to vanquish!"