Part One: A Very Squishy Invitation

Click.

Click.

Click-click-click.

Boxy stared at the treasure map.

Ever since their adventure beneath Gloam Hollow, the two mysterious gear symbols had been making strange noises.

Sometimes they clicked.

Sometimes they turned.

And occasionally, they made a noise rather like somebody dropping spoons down a staircase.

Gluebert leaned over Boxy's shoulder.

"Interesting. Very interesting."

"Do you know what it means?" asked Boxy.

"Of course."

Everyone waited.

Gluebert nodded wisely.

"It's broken."

Pete raised a sign.

BRILLIANT. MYSTERY SOLVED.

Captain Barnacle Bobbins was standing at the ship's wheel, attempting to navigate using a sandwich.

"It's never let me down before," he insisted.

"It once led us into a cupboard," said Gluebert.

"An excellent cupboard."

Then...

PLOP!

Something white and squishy landed on Gluebert's hat.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

It rolled down his forehead, bounced off his nose and landed in Boxy's hands.

A marshmallow.

Attached to it was a tiny golden envelope.

Boxy opened it.

Inside, beautiful letters shimmered.

YOU ARE INVITED TO THE MIDNIGHT MARSHMALLOW CLUB!

Tonight. The Moonlit Clearing.

Bring a happy memory.

Strictly no eating the committee.

Gluebert frowned.

"Why would anybody eat a committee?"

Captain Bobbins stroked his beard.

"Depends who's on it."

Suddenly, the envelope folded itself into a glowing arrow.

It pointed towards a mysterious forest beyond the sea.

"Well, crew!" cried Captain Bobbins. "Looks like we're going camping!"

He turned the wheel.

The Sea of Maybe shimmered beneath an enormous golden moon.

Soon, the friends reached a forest unlike anywhere they'd been before.

Trees curled into enormous spirals.

Mushrooms glowed beneath their roots.

Tiny stars wandered along the paths.

One little star shuffled past wearing slippers.

"Evening," it mumbled.

Gluebert blinked.

"Why are you wearing shoes?"

"Cold feet," replied the star.

It wandered away.

Pete nearly fell over laughing.

At the centre of the forest stood a magnificent clearing.

Hundreds of colourful lanterns hung from the trees. Little benches surrounded an enormous stone fireplace, and a long table overflowed with biscuits.

A tiny owl wearing enormous spectacles hurried towards them.

"Welcome! I'm Madam Mallow, Chairwoman of the Midnight Marshmallow Club!"

She bowed.

Then fell off her mushroom.

PLOP.

"That was ceremonial," she explained.

Beside her stood a marshmallow with tiny legs, little arms and a magnificent moustache.

"This is Sir Squidge, our Treasurer."

Sir Squidge examined Captain Bobbins' wooden spoon.

"IS THAT FOR TOASTING?"

"Sometimes."

Sir Squidge fainted.

PLOP.

Madam Mallow sighed.

"He does that."

But then her smile disappeared.

"I'm afraid something dreadful has happened."

She pointed towards the fireplace.

Boxy gasped.

The enormous flames were there...

But their colours had vanished.

No red.

No orange.

No yellow.

Just pale, empty outlines floating above the logs.

"Our Midnight Flame has gone out!" whispered Madam Mallow. "Every November, we gather here to celebrate light, share stories and remember happy moments."

She looked sadly at the fire.

"But Mister Muffle has stolen its magical colours!"

"Who's Mister Muffle?" asked Boxy.

A little cloud of grey smoke floated from behind a tree.

It wore a bowler hat.

"ME!" announced the cloud.

He bowed.

A tiny puff of smoke escaped from underneath him.

Poot.

"Apologies. Nervous."

He straightened his hat.

"I collect memories! People forget things, you see. So I keep them safe in jars!"

He produced a little glass jar containing a beautiful golden spark.

"But memories are supposed to be enjoyed," said Boxy.

"Nonsense!" cried Mister Muffle. "Far too precious! Must be protected!"

Then he sneezed.

PFFFFOOOOF!

A great cloud of fog swallowed the clearing.

When it disappeared, Mister Muffle was gone.

And another lantern had gone dark.

Madam Mallow looked worried.

"If we don't restore the Midnight Flame before dawn, the whole forest will lose its light."

Boxy looked at his friends.

"Then we'd better get started."

Part Two: The Most Unusual Preparations

Captain Bobbins raised his wooden spoon.

"WE SHALL CHASE HIM!"

Gluebert looked at the forest.

"Which way?"

The captain hesitated.

"Ah."

Pete raised his sign.

EXCELLENT PLAN SO FAR.

Boxy was examining the empty fireplace.

"What normally happens at the club?"

"Oh, wonderful things!" said Madam Mallow. "We make decorations, share stories, remember special people and gather around the fire."

She gestured towards a table covered in craft supplies.

"But without our flame, we can't begin."

Gluebert stroked his beard.

"Perhaps..."

Everyone turned.

"...we should begin anyway."

Boxy smiled.

"That's a brilliant idea!"

Gluebert looked surprised.

"It is?"

"Of course!"

He beamed.

"Excellent. I shall try having more of them."

They started with lanterns.

Madam Mallow explained that they were inspired by Diwali, the Festival of Lights, when many families light little lamps called diyas to celebrate light overcoming darkness.

Boxy carefully glued colourful cellophane behind the lantern windows.

Pete chose blue stars and golden moons.

Captain Bobbins decorated his with purple flowers.

Gluebert announced he was creating the world's first Completely Extraordinary Rainbow Lantern.

Unfortunately, he glued it to his hat.

Then to his sleeve.

Then somehow to Captain Bobbins' trousers.

"Don't move!" cried Gluebert.

"Why?"

"You're wearing my masterpiece!"

Captain Bobbins examined himself.

"Quite fashionable, actually."

Pete held up a sign.

THE TROUSERS REALLY BRING IT TOGETHER.

Madam Mallow giggled.

Soon, the lanterns were hanging around the clearing.

But their lights remained faint.

"We need something else," said Boxy.

Next, Madam Mallow brought out colourful foam skulls, flowers, hearts and little decorations.

"These are inspired by the calaveras of Mexico's Día de los Muertos," she explained. "Families celebrate and remember loved ones with beautiful colours and happy memories."

Boxy made a cheerful skull covered in flowers.

Pete chose little purple hearts and blue stars.

Gluebert proudly produced a skull with five eyes, three noses and a moustache.

"Behold!"

Everyone stared.

"Why five eyes?" asked Boxy.

"Improved vision."

"And three noses?"

"Excellent smell."

Pete raised a sign.

CAN IT SMELL THE FUTURE?

Gluebert considered this.

"Almost certainly."

They attached their creations to a big metal board beside the fire.

Then Boxy noticed a little wreath lying on the table.

It was surrounded by bright red poppies.

"What's this for?"

Madam Mallow's expression softened.

"Every November, people wear poppies to remember brave people who lost their lives in wars, and to remind us how precious peace is."

The friends quietly began arranging poppies and leaves around the wreath.

Pete added a little message.

WE WILL REMEMBER.

Together, they hung it in a peaceful corner of the clearing.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Even the pirate parrot was quiet.

Then Madam Mallow smiled.

"How lovely. You've made something wonderful without a single spark of magic."

Boxy looked around.

The lanterns.

The colourful skulls.

The beautiful wreath.

Everything they'd made together.

It reminded him of the Island That Stayed.

And how the best things they'd brought home weren't really things at all.

They were memories.

Suddenly...

TWINKLE.

One of Pete's lanterns began to glow.

Then a calavera shimmered.

Then the little red poppies sparkled.

Golden specks floated into the air.

Madam Mallow gasped.

"It's working!"

But before anyone could cheer...

WHOOOOOSH!

A great wave of grey fog swept across the clearing!

The lanterns flickered.

The stars vanished behind the smoke.

And the forest grew terribly dark.

Mister Muffle's voice echoed through the trees.

"STOP MAKING MORE MEMORIES! I HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH JARS!"

Then came a tremendous...

PAAAAARP!

Everyone froze.

Gluebert blinked.

"Was that a trumpet?"

Captain Bobbins nodded.

"A rather rude one."

Pete's shoulders began shaking.

Even Boxy couldn't help giggling.

But the darkness was creeping closer.

And the Midnight Flame was still empty.

Part Three: The House of Forgotten Things

The little golden sparks from their decorations gathered together.

They danced.

They twisted.

And formed a glowing trail between the trees.

Boxy grinned.

"They're showing us where to go!"

The friends followed the lights through the forest.

Past enormous mushrooms.

Under silver branches.

Across a little wooden bridge that complained whenever anybody stepped on it.

"Ow."

"Sorry," said Boxy.

"Ow."

"Sorry," said Pete.

"OW!"

Gluebert stopped.

"Honestly! It's only a bridge."

"AND YOU'RE ONLY A WIZARD!" shouted the bridge.

Captain Bobbins nodded sympathetically.

"Fair point."

Eventually, they reached a crooked little house built inside an enormous hollow tree.

A sign read:

MISTER MUFFLE'S HOUSE OF FORGOTTEN THINGS

Lost socks welcome.

No whistling.

Absolutely no dancing.

Gluebert knocked.

Nothing happened.

Captain Bobbins rang the bell.

DING DONG!

"WHO IS IT?" shouted a voice.

"Friends!" called Boxy.

"HOW MANY?"

"Four!"

"AND A PARROT!"

"IS IT A POLITE PARROT?"

The pirate parrot puffed out its chest.

"CAPTAIN FLOPSY!"

A long silence followed.

"...I'll take that as a no."

The door creaked open.

Inside were thousands of glass jars.

Little sunsets.

Birthday wishes.

Laughter.

The smell of warm biscuits.

One jar contained a very confused sock.

Another held a sandwich wearing a tiny hat.

Captain Bobbins gasped.

"THERE YOU ARE!"

Gluebert sighed.

"How does that sandwich keep finding us?"

Mister Muffle floated towards them.

"Oh dear."

Boxy stepped forwards.

"Why are you keeping all these memories locked away?"

Mister Muffle looked down.

"Because I'm frightened of losing them."

He showed Boxy one tiny jar.

Inside glowed a golden firefly.

"My friend Flicker used to visit the Midnight Marshmallow Club. We had the most wonderful adventures."

He smiled sadly.

"Then she went travelling to explore the world."

"Do you miss her?" asked Boxy.

"Very much."

He looked around at his shelves.

"I thought if I collected every happy moment, nothing would ever disappear."

Pete slowly raised a sign.

BUT WHO DO YOU SHARE THEM WITH?

Mister Muffle looked around his enormous, silent house.

"...Nobody."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Boxy reached into his bag.

He took out the little acorn he'd saved beneath the Memory Tree in the Woodland of Little Wonders.

"Look. I kept this from one of our adventures."

Mister Muffle leaned closer.

"Very sensible! Shall I put it in a jar?"

Boxy shook his head.

"I like carrying it with me. It reminds me of our friends, especially Bramble."

Pete smiled at the mention of the little hedgehog.

He remembered how Bramble had understood him without needing words.

His sign appeared.

I WISH YOU COULD HAVE BEEN THERE.

Mister Muffle stared at it.

Then something wonderful happened.

He smiled.

A real smile.

"Perhaps..."

He looked towards his little golden firefly.

"...I could tell you about Flicker."

"Please do!" said Boxy.

Mister Muffle thought carefully.

"Well, once she tried to teach me to dance."

"What happened?" asked Gluebert.

"I accidentally swallowed a trumpet."

Everyone stared.

"A TRUMPET?!"

Mister Muffle nodded.

"Every time I sneezed..."

He took a deep breath.

PAAAAARP!

A tremendous trumpet noise burst from his bottom.

Captain Bobbins fell off his chair.

Gluebert collapsed against a shelf.

Pete was practically folded in half with laughter.

Even Mister Muffle began giggling.

"I'd forgotten how funny that was!"

He laughed again.

PARP-PARP-PAAAAARP!

Several jars rattled.

A sock flew across the room.

The suspicious sandwich fainted.

And Mister Muffle laughed harder than ever.

Gluebert wiped his eyes.

"Good heavens. That was magnificent."

Then he looked at all the glowing jars.

"Wait a moment..."

He frowned.

"I think I've worked something out."

Everyone turned.

"If the Midnight Flame is made from happy memories, and Mister Muffle has locked all the memories away..."

He paused dramatically.

"...then the fire hasn't really lost its colours."

Boxy's eyes widened.

"It's lost the happiness that makes it glow!"

Gluebert beamed.

"Precisely!"

Pete raised a sign.

HE ACTUALLY SOLVED SOMETHING.

Captain Bobbins gasped.

"Quick! Write down the date!"

Gluebert smiled.

For once, he didn't mind the teasing.

Mister Muffle looked at his shelves.

Then slowly reached for the key.

CLICK.

He opened the first jar.

A beautiful golden spark floated out.

Then another.

And another.

Soon, thousands of glowing memories were dancing around the room.

Red.

Orange.

Yellow.

Blue.

Purple.

Every colour imaginable.

Mister Muffle smiled.

"I think it's time they went home."

He threw open the windows.

WHOOOOOOSH!

The memories soared into the night.

Back towards the Midnight Marshmallow Club.

Boxy grinned.

"Come on!"

And together, they raced after the light.

Part Four: The Midnight Flame

When the friends returned, the whole clearing was glowing with floating memories.

The lanterns were brighter.

The poppies shimmered.

The colourful calaveras sparkled like jewels.

But the enormous fireplace still held its empty, colourless flames.

Madam Mallow hurried over.

"Oh, Boxy! We're so close!"

Boxy examined the fire.

Then noticed something beside the craft table.

A large picture of the Midnight Clearing.

Its campfire had enormous empty flame outlines, just like the real one.

"Of course!" he cried.

He picked up a cotton wool ball.

Dipped it into red paint.

And dabbed it onto the picture.

DAB!

A little patch of red appeared.

Pete scrunched up some tin foil.

He dipped it into yellow.

DAB! DAB!

Captain Bobbins added orange.

Soon everyone was helping.

Red.

Yellow.

Orange.

The colours mixed together, filling the flames with beautiful patterns.

Gluebert attempted a particularly elegant swirl.

Unfortunately, he dropped his cotton wool ball directly onto his own nose.

It stuck.

He tried to remove it.

It stuck to his finger.

Then his hat.

Then Captain Bobbins' sleeve.

Pete raised a sign.

YOU'VE GROWN A MARSHMALLOW.

Gluebert sighed.

"That wasn't part of the design."

Mister Muffle burst out laughing.

PAAAAARP!

And suddenly...

The picture began to glow.

The painted flames flickered.

They twisted.

They danced.

Then...

FWHOOOOOOOSH!

A magnificent burst of golden light erupted from the great fireplace!

The Midnight Flame was back!

Its brilliant colours spiralled into the sky.

The lanterns blazed.

The stars twinkled.

The moon shone brighter than ever.

Every corner of the forest filled with wonderful, dancing light!

Everyone cheered.

Madam Mallow hugged Mister Muffle.

Which was difficult because he was a cloud.

She disappeared inside him.

"Everything alright?" called Boxy.

"MMPH!"

Then she popped out the other side.

"Lovely hug. Very foggy."

Captain Bobbins clapped his hands.

"MARSHMALLOWS!"

Sir Squidge screamed.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Everybody turned.

Sir Squidge was trembling beside the fire.

"I AM NOT A SNACK!"

Captain Bobbins knelt beside him.

"Of course not!"

He smiled kindly.

"You're the Treasurer."

Sir Squidge relaxed.

"Thank you."

Captain Bobbins offered him a biscuit.

Sir Squidge examined it.

Then grinned.

"Excellent. I'll put that on expenses."

Madam Mallow flapped her wings.

"LET THE MIDNIGHT MARSHMALLOW CLUB BEGIN!"

Everyone gathered around the glowing fire.

Blankets were shared.

Biscuits were passed around.

Stories were told.

And laughter filled the clearing.

Boxy added a clean, fluffy cotton wool ball to the end of the little stick in his painted campfire picture.

"There!" he smiled. "A perfect marshmallow!"

Sir Squidge nodded approvingly.

"Much better than using the Treasurer."

Captain Bobbins began telling a story about a pirate who had mistaken a turnip for his grandmother.

Nobody ever heard the ending.

Because halfway through...

Gluebert attempted to demonstrate what he called a Traditional Wizard Celebration Dance.

It involved three spins.

A little jump.

And accidentally sitting in a bucket.

CLONK!

Pete laughed so hard that he dropped all his signs.

Even the pirate parrot fell off its perch.

"CAPTAIN FLOPSY!"

Gluebert emerged from the bucket.

His hat was crooked.

His beard was full of marshmallow fluff.

But he was smiling.

"Well," he announced, "I believe that went rather well."

And for once...

Nobody disagreed.

The night grew quieter.

The stars shimmered.

Mister Muffle floated beside Boxy.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Boxy smiled.

Mister Muffle looked around the campfire.

At the laughter.

The friends.

The beautiful light.

Then he began telling another story about Flicker.

And this time...

He didn't put it in a jar.

Part Five: The Clock That Struck Thirteen

Eventually, it was time to leave.

Madam Mallow waved from the clearing.

Sir Squidge gave everyone a very serious handshake.

Mister Muffle promised to visit his friends more often.

And Captain Bobbins promised not to toast anybody important.

Which seemed a reasonable arrangement.

The pirate ship sailed gently away across the Sea of Maybe.

Boxy sat beside Pete, watching the lanterns twinkle among the distant trees.

He unfolded the treasure map.

A new golden line appeared.

It traced their journey through the Moonlit Clearing.

Alongside it were tiny pictures.

A colourful lantern.

A red poppy wreath.

A cheerful calavera.

And a glowing campfire.

At the very end sat a tiny marshmallow with an enormous moustache.

Boxy laughed.

"Sir Squidge!"

Then...

Click.

The two mysterious gear symbols began turning.

Click-click-click.

Pete sat up.

The silver strand Inky had found in Gloam Hollow suddenly lifted out of Boxy's bag.

Its little hooked end glowed bright blue.

It floated towards the map.

And...

CLICK!

Snapped perfectly into place between the two gears.

Everyone stared.

A thin silver line shot across the map.

Backwards.

Past Gloam Hollow.

Past the Woodland of Little Wonders.

Then it curled northwards, beyond the edge of the paper.

The map unfolded itself.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Until a whole new section appeared.

Boxy gasped.

A magnificent snowy mountain rose from the paper.

Sparkling white forests covered its slopes.

Little villages glowed with golden lights.

And at the very top stood an enormous clock tower.

Its hands were turning backwards.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Pete leaned closer.

He recognised that sound.

It was the same clicking they'd heard beneath Gloam Hollow.

Suddenly...

DONG!

A distant bell echoed across the sea.

Then another.

And another.

Boxy counted.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Then...

THIRTEEN.

The whole ship trembled.

The clock stopped.

Silence.

A tiny snowflake drifted out of the sky.

It landed on Boxy's nose.

Then another.

And another.

Soon, delicate white snow was falling across the pirate ship.

Captain Bobbins looked astonished.

"Snow? Here? In November?"

Gluebert shivered.

"That's not normal."

Pete held up a sign.

SINCE WHEN HAS ANYTHING BEEN NORMAL?

Nobody argued.

Then a little red envelope appeared on the map.

Boxy opened it carefully.

Inside was a message written in hurried, crooked letters.

URGENT!

The Winter Clock has stopped.

Christmas is starting to disappear.

Please hurry.

And underneath, in much smaller writing:

P.S. Somebody has eaten all the Christmas biscuits.

Captain Bobbins gasped.

"NOT THE BISCUITS!"

Far away, on the snowy mountain, one golden light went out.

Then another.

And another.

Pete looked at the silver strand.

The gears.

The mysterious clock tower.

His expression changed.

Slowly, he lifted his sign.

I THINK THIS HAS BEEN FOLLOWING US ALL ALONG.

Boxy stared towards the snowy horizon.

Whatever was waiting beyond those mountains...

Their next adventure was already beginning.

Then Gluebert sneezed.

AAAAACHOOO!

A marshmallow shot out of his hat.

Flew across the deck.

And landed directly in Captain Bobbins' beard.

Everyone stared.

Captain Bobbins examined it.

Then smiled.

"Well..."

He carefully tucked it into his pocket.

"...at least we've still got pudding."

And somewhere far away, beneath the snowy mountains...

Something ancient began to wake.

Something with wheels.

And springs.

And thousands upon thousands of tiny gears.

Deep inside the silent clock tower...

One little cog slowly turned.

CLICK.