The Nymbricae pulled down his veil with slow precision. Now, Nedrick had seen a lot of strange things in his life (most of them involving Lucian) but nothing quite prepared him for his first ever encounter with a real-life humanized Nymbricae.

The little fellow had big ears that stuck out on either side of a face that was impossible to ignore, primarily because his nose seemed to have a personality of its own. Put simply, it was large. Not comically so, but large enough to take centre stage in every room he entered, as if it had its own agent and was negotiating for more screen time. His eyes bulged like they could probably see through time if they tried, despite being lined with exhaustion. And his teeth (which honestly kinda resembled baby teeth, in a way) looked like they'd been arranged by a committee that never reached consensus. 

Yet somehow, dressed in robes that matched the veil now hanging around his neck and wearing neon green striped socks, he radiated an inexplicable charm. Everything about him, including the over-grown just-past-the-shoulders-length hair, and his unassuming presence, seemed to exist in harmony with that nose and those eyes. As if his entire existence was a cosmic joke that only he truly understood. Despite his features being, shall we say, distinctive, there was something undeniably charming about the way he carried them. Like an ugly puppy. Or a little wide-eyed gremlin you'd probably still let nap on your couch. 

"My name," said the Nymbricae, adjusting his robes with a little tug, "is Runklebean."

There was a pause.

Lucian blinked. "Runklebean?"

Nedrick leaned in, squinting. "You remind me of a bat in a sweater."

"Why, thank you!" Runklebean beamed.

Nedrick gestured vaguely in his direction. "So, Runklebean. That your real name?"

"I picked it out myself," Runklebean said proudly, puffing out his chest.

"You chose that?"

"Indeed I did. Came to me one night after I ate a lightning bug."

Lucian made a choking noise. "You what?"

"Licked it right off a rose bush," Runklebean continued nonchalantly. "Tongue went numb, eyes rolled back, and in my mind, I saw a hedgehog meditating in a zen garden raked into a spiral of soybeans. That's when the name hit me. Like a trinkwilt to the forehead." He held his hands out and wiggled his fingers, as though shaking out imaginary sparkles. "Runklebean."

Lucian turned slowly to Nedrick. "That might be the single weirdest sentence I've ever heard."

"What's a trinkwilt?" Nedrick implored.

Runklebean shrugged haplessly. "Haven't the slightest."

Nedrick scoffed. "Then why did you say it?!"

"It improved the sentence, I think. Like how 'Runkle' improves 'bean' when you place it gently in front of it. Beans are the underdogs of the legume world, you know," Runklebean said, holding up a finger as if quoting ancient philosophy. "Everyone respects a peanut. But a bean? Mysterious. Multipurpose. I once swallowed one whole, and it lived in my stomach for three days. We bonded. His name was Clive. He sends me postcards, now."

Nedrick felt his brain quietly pack a suitcase and begin crawling toward the nearest exit.

"I-I think he's broken me," Nedrick whispered shakily.

"You and me both," Nell grumbled irritably.

Runklebean suddenly launched into a cartwheel, followed by an impressive backflip that landed him on the rickety little bed in the corner with a cheer.

"Ta-da!" he cried, throwing his arms up.

Alistair clapped enthusiastically. "Isn't he adorable?"

Lucian considered the immortal-in-mortal-form now bouncing up and down on the bed, doing several solid flips in a row.

"He's like if a gremlin and a fever dream had a baby," he muttered.

Runklebean landed on the floor with a wide grin. "Wanna see me eat a worm like spaghetti?"

"No!" shouted everyone in unison.

Lucian clasped his hands in front of himself. "Hey, new question! What's your story?"

"Oh, I know a great many stories! I'll tell you one right now!" Clearing his throat, Runklebean stood tall and held his hands behind his back, like a child about to recite something for the whole class. "In the valley where the flindor hums, and the soft luneveil twilight comes; a crooked door stands, old and gray, where skorrow hides and shadows lay. The wind would skeech in tones so bright, and blostle footsteps through the night—"

"What are you doing in the mortal world, is what I meant," Lucian interrupted. 

Runklebean froze. His bulbous eyes darted sideways, then up, as if hoping an answer might fall through the ceiling. When none did, he sighed and plopped down on the beanbag chair that Nell had previously been warming with her buttocks. 

"I was exiled," he said solemnly.

Nedrick raised an eyebrow. "You got kicked out? From... what, like a Nymbricae village in the clouds, or something?"

"The Penumbral Fold," Runklebean said with a sudden gravitas. "A hidden dimension adjacent to reality, existing in the slivered spaces between moments—not exactly time or space, but a liminal state where entropy slows and decay is held at bay. That's where we Nymbricae reside. And I... did something bad."

Alistair leaned forward. "Scandalous."

"What did you do?" Nedrick asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Runklebean muttered, his whole aura seeming to droop. "It brings me great shame."

"Now we have to know," said Nell. "You can't just drop something like that and walk away from it."

Runklebean hesitated, twiddling his toes through the hole in his shoe. Then, after a beat, he looked pointedly away. "I'm not discussing it."

"Did it involve tax evasion?" Alistair theorized. 

"No."

"Illegal time travel?" Nell asked next.

"No again."

Nedrick let out a long breath and shook his head. "You know what? We're probably better off not knowing, anyway. Less liability. And besides, looking at how this quest has been going so far, it's probably the dumbest crime we've ever heard."

Runklebean looked genuinely touched. "Thank you! I try to keep things whimsical."

Lucian raised a hand like he was in class. "New question! So, you were kicked out of the Penumbral Fold, and now you're just... wandering?"

Runklebean nodded. "I was sentenced to walk the world of mortals until I complete one hundred good deeds. But if I do one bad thing—even mildly unethical, like stealing dandelion, or punching the angry goose that I stole the dandelion from—the count resets to zero."

Nedrick's eyebrows launched north. "That is a terrible system."

"I didn't make the rules," Runklebean grumbled. "The Nymbricae deeply hates nuance."

Alistair frowned. "So how many have you done?"

Runklebean hesitated. "...Three."

"Three?!" Lucian exclaimed. "How long have you been down here?"

"Roughly eight hundred years."

There was a silence.

Runklebean stared down at his shoes. "It turns out, being a fundamentally glaikit person with no impulse control makes good deeds... challenging."

Lucian knelt down beside him. "So what kind of good deeds count? Helping old ladies cross the street? Saving kingdoms? Picking up trash?"

"All sorts of nice things. Oh! I once cured a goat's scurvy!" Runklebean said brightly. "That was a solid one."

"And you're offering to help us in exchange for helping you?"

Runklebean nodded, suddenly serious. "If you assist me in my next deeds—keep me from slipping, and help me get my powers back—then I'll use my powers to grant each of you one desire. One wish, made in earnest, bound by the cosmic ledger. No tricks. No riddles. One honest desire, fulfilled."

Lucian clutched his chest dramatically. "Like... become a king of a kingdom of my own design?"

Alistair's eyes sparkled. "Or make people love someone?"

Nedrick squinted. "Can my wish be to go back home to my pigs with a fantastic pension?"

Runklebean shrugged. "If it's honest, from the heart, and doesn't make me feel icky inside, it qualifies."

Nell, who had been mostly quiet up until this moment, stood and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"Okay, fun as this cosmic drama has been," she said, throwing up a peace sign, "I've decided that I'm out."

The others blinked at her, appalled.

"All I wanted was my family prophecy changed; I'm not interested in shortcuts, or wish-granting. I've got my own path, and it involves fire arrows and breaking into ancient vaults, and making a name for myself through hard work, and not the reliance of—no offence—complete morons."

Lucian scrambled up. "Wait, but—don't you want glory? Good prophecies? Your name etched in legends?"

Nell gave him a grin that could cut through steel. "I will be a legend on my own terms."

Runklebean gave her a glowing smile. "I hope you succeed, Nell!"

"Oh, I will." She paused at the door. "And if you ever run into a bard named Darlon? Tell him I still have his kneecaps on layaway."

And with that, she was gone—vanishing down the spiral stairs like a heroine with her own book deal.

The boys turned back to Runklebean.

Lucian clapped his hands. "Right, then! Quest party assembled!"

Alistair extended a hand. "To future greatness."

Runklebean took it solemnly.

Nedrick grumbled, but finally added, "Fine. But if any of this leads to us getting cursed, exploded, or forced into a magical cooking competition, I'm out."

If possible, Runklebean's smile brightened even further. "I hope we all become best friends!"