Eugene adjusted the strap of his lantern as he stepped out into the City of Cities, his mind already running through the logistics of his next move. The Veiled Pinnacle was waiting, and if he wanted to keep Cozimia and the Hazel Fortuna safe, it was the only place that made sense; Utopianna had made accommodations for them. But as his boots hit the cobblestone streets, another thought crept in—getting there on foot was fine for now, but how much longer could he keep walking everywhere?
He hadn’t thought much about mobility before. Back home, a car or a bus ride solved that problem, but here? Here, he needed something better. Faster. More reliable.
A mount? That was the obvious choice. He’d seen plenty of people riding creatures through the city—some massive, lumbering beasts, others sleek and nimble. The idea of a horse seemed quaint in comparison. There were six-legged lizards that clung to walls, massive birds that glided over the city’s rooftops, even strange constructs that clanked through the streets, steam hissing from their joints. The stables near the market district might be worth checking out later, but mounts needed food, upkeep, and, more importantly, space. The city wasn’t exactly designed for a guy to keep a personal beast of burden wherever he pleased.
Flying carpets were another possibility. He’d seen them in use, mostly by high-end merchants and pompous mages who liked to hover just above street level as if the ground was too dirty for them. They were fast, maneuverable, and didn’t require feeding. But they were also expensive. He wasn’t sure if he had the funds—or the connections—to get his hands on one anytime soon.
Magic, then? That had to be an option, right? He’d seen plenty of people fly under their own power, though most of them were wizards. Was flight something a warlock could learn? Cozimia’s magic was centered on hospitality and safe spaces, but maybe there was some way to bend that toward travel? Could he learn to teleport between places where he had been welcomed before? Or maybe Hazel Fortuna’s powers could nudge things in his favor, making the right transportation simply appear at the perfect moment?
There had to be other options, stranger ones. He’d seen a mage riding what looked like a floating disc of pure energy, zipping between rooftops like it was second nature. Could he get something like that? Maybe hitch a ride on one of the city’s airships? Or, if he really leaned into coincidence magic, could he just happen to end up exactly where he needed to be, without ever worrying about the in-between?
Eugene exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he mulled over the possibilities. He wasn’t just getting stronger—he was moving toward something bigger. And if he wanted to keep up, he needed to start thinking like someone who belonged in this world, not just someone who had been dropped into it.
One way or another, he was going to figure this out. But for now, he had a destination, and his feet would have to do.
As he walked, he found himself paying more attention to the city around him. It was a strange realization, but for all of Krungus’s paranoia, the City of Cities felt...safe. There were no gangs shaking down merchants, no desperate beggars huddled in alleyways, no guards looming over civilians with unchecked authority. People moved freely, talking, trading, living their lives. Even in the rougher districts, the atmosphere was more of bustling energy than outright danger.
That nagging thought from earlier crept back in—if things were so stable, what exactly was Krungus trying to fix? The old wizard had ranted endlessly about corruption, about the unseen rot within the city’s structure, but Eugene hadn’t seen much evidence of it himself. He knew Krungus wasn’t the type to panic over nothing, but...was the problem something deeper? Something invisible? Was he trying to solve an issue that wasn’t actually a problem yet—or was it just that Eugene hadn’t looked in the right places?
Or maybe this was just the calm before the storm, a moment of stillness before everything started to unravel.
The thought left him uneasy, but he pushed forward, boots tapping against the stones as the Veiled Pinnacle loomed ever closer.
When he reached it, he noticed something strange—people walked past the area without sparing a second glance, as if the massive wall in front of them was just another unremarkable part of the city. There was no magical barrier, no grand illusion. It was simply ignored, dismissed by every passing pedestrian as if it were background noise.
Eugene walked right up to it, stretching out his hand to touch the surface. The moment his fingers made contact, his vision shifted. The towering Brutalist structure materialized before him, its smooth concrete walls rising at impossible angles, massive yet eerily silent. It hadn’t appeared—it had always been there. He just hadn’t been able to see it properly until now.
The Veiled Pinnacle loomed, waiting.
Eugene took a deep breath as he reached the heart of the Veiled Pinnacle, where a single, intricate hook was embedded in the stone wall. Utopianna had crafted it specifically for this purpose—an anchor for Cozimia’s lantern, an intersection of magic and intention. He lifted the lantern and set it into place, feeling a faint hum of energy as it clicked into position. The Hearth Behind the Stars was now truly part of the Veiled Pinnacle, bound to the magic thrumming through its foundation.
Stepping back, Eugene exhaled and focused, disappearing and reappearing inside the lantern now that it was secured. The two Jennies were waiting for him in the main lobby of the establishment. Eugene couldn’t help but think that they were like two judgemental aunts of his, both about to tell him that he needed a different haircut and to pull up his pants.
Cozimia studied him with that knowing look she always had, a mixture of amusement and concern. “You’re strong, Eugene, but strength isn’t the same as knowing where you’re going.”
Eugene ran a hand through his hair, already sensing where this conversation was headed. “I figured you might say something like that.”
Cozimia crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “That’s because you already know it’s true, sugar. Power doesn’t mean much if you don’t know how to use it. And right now, you’re stacking power without fully understanding what it means to wield it.”
Hazel Fortuna smirked. “He’s still new to all this. The fact that he’s even asking the right questions puts him ahead of most.”
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Cozimia gave a small, approving nod before continuing. “Hospitality isn’t just about keeping people safe, Eugene. It’s about making space for them, truly welcoming them. You can’t just offer protection—you have to offer a place where people belong. That’s what it means to be a warlock of Hospitality. You have to live it, not just invoke it when it’s convenient.”
Eugene frowned. “I feel like I’ve been doing that. The whole lantern, the Veiled Pinnacle—this is me creating a sanctuary.”
Cozimia smiled gently. “You’re starting to, yes. But it’s not just about the place, sweetheart. It’s about you. A Hearth isn’t just where people gather—it’s who they gather around.”
Hazel Fortuna chuckled. “And then there’s coincidence. It’s not about sitting back and letting fate play its hand—it’s about playing into the flow and knowing when to push and when to let things happen. You’re getting better at it, but you still fight it sometimes.”
Eugene exhaled, rubbing his temple. “So what, I just need to... fully embrace both of these things? Be more welcoming? Be more spontaneous?”
Cozimia laughed, shaking her head. “Not just embrace them. Understand them. Know what it means when you choose to open your doors—and what it means when you close them.”
The conversation went on, deep and winding, as Eugene asked questions, pushed back, and considered the weight of his role. Hospitality and Coincidence weren’t just tools—they were forces shaping his magic, and he was only beginning to grasp their depth.
Then, without warning, the Jennie of Potential arrived inside the Hearth.
She didn’t step in so much as unfold into the space, her form a shifting mosaic of prismatic glass, constantly rearranging itself. The air itself seemed to pulse around her as she regarded Eugene with an inscrutable gaze.
“No future is fixed,” she whispered, her voice layered with countless possibilities. “But choices set paths.”
Eugene felt a wave of something cold and uncertain before his vision fractured. He was seeing himself—but not as he was now. He was seeing versions of himself, scattered across potential timelines:
—A future where he was a legend, his name spoken across the world, but in every scene, he stood alone.
—A future where he was forgotten, lost to history, but truly free, unburdened by destiny or power.
—A future where he had never left Earth, sitting in a dimly lit apartment, eyes hollow, life passing him by as if none of this had ever happened.
—A future where he had lost control of his magic, consumed by it, warping reality around him until nothing made sense anymore.
The images flickered, then vanished. The Jennie of Potential remained, ever-shifting.
“Which future is real?” Eugene asked, his voice steady despite the weight in his chest.
The Jennie of Potential regarded him. “All. None. Some. One.”
He exhaled sharply. “Not helpful.”
“You shape your own story,” she said. “Potential is never safe. But here, we can become.”
Her words settled over him like a challenge. Eugene squared his shoulders, grounding himself back in the present.
The meeting with the Jennies was over, but something inside him had shifted in him as he gained understanding during their conversation. Hospitality didn’t wait, it just was.
Stepping forward, he placed his hands together and cast Communal Feast inside the Hearth Behind the Stars.
The moment he did, something unexpected happened. The magic surged through the Veiled Pinnacle, amplified by the convergence of forces—
—The raw, untamed non-Weave energy of the Veiled Pinnacle.
—Cozimia’s deep, anchoring Hospitality.
—Hazel Fortuna’s addition of Coincidence.
—The Jennie of Potential’s infinite reach.
—And Eugene’s own expanding warlock abilities.
These forces merged, becoming something new.
A beacon ignited, unseen yet felt across the city. It was not a command. Not an intrusion. Just an invitation. A whisper of warmth, a pull toward something familiar and welcoming.
Across the city, the effects rippled outward:
—Krungus, hunched over ancient texts, suddenly paused, feeling an unfamiliar hunger—not for food, but for company.
—Utopianna, in mid-conversation, felt a gentle call, something comforting curling around her heart.
—Bahumbus and B’doom, deep in their work, both glanced up at the same time, their thoughts drifting toward an unexpected yearning.
—Reg-E, the paladins Brenna, Rent, and Griddle, even Qlaark deep in his plotting—all felt the quiet urge to seek out the Hearth.
As Eugene watched them settle into the feast, something clicked inside him. This wasn’t about hoarding power. It wasn’t about accumulating more abilities, stacking them up like trophies. It was about choosing—about shaping his own path with every decision he made.
A flicker in the air caught his attention. The interface shimmered before him, notifying him of something new:
[Achievement Unlocked: The Apex of Potential – The Veiled Pinnacle recognizes you as its master.]
Then, just at the edge of his awareness, the interface flickered again. A new notification appeared, its presence more deliberate, its text unfolding in an uncharacteristically slow manner:
[System Insight: Veiled Pinnacle Attunement – The Hearth Behind the Stars amplifies all magic cast within its domain. Spells woven in its presence will not merely function—they will surge, resonating with the raw, unfiltered energy of the Pinnacle. The stronger the intent, the greater the result.]
Eugene blinked as the words sank in. This place—this tower—wasn’t just a refuge. It was an amplifier, a force that would take anything he cast and make it more. It explained the beacon, why the Communal Feast had reached so far, why the air itself still thrummed with lingering power.
Magic cast within the Hearth wasn’t normal. It wasn’t even controlled. It was enhanced, empowered, given life beyond its natural limits.
This was something he was going to have to experiment with.
