Ratrick's Revenge: Day 8

The group huffed and puffed up the stairs; they did not quite understand the urgency, or why the magical doors from before could not just teleport them to their next destination, but it seemed to be the climax of their adventure, so rushing felt appropriate. Finally, they got a chance to plop down in the Kitchen per Ratrick's directive.

The Kitchen was straight out of a wealthy suburban episode of House Hunters: a walk-in pantry, stainless steel appliances, so much counterspace that you could fit dozens of gimmicky Ninja-brand gadgets. They each took a barstool at the granite-topped island to discuss their next move.

"So Ratrick, what's the plan here? How much danger are we in? I noticed the walls haven't stopped shaking," Guy inquired.

"He's right. If you look out the window, it seems like there's a Blank Space in the astral plane...a Glitch of sorts, like everything is about to collapse," Kellan said.

"It's true. My magic is not long for this world, given how much I have expended trying to clear my name on this journey," Ratrick said wistfully.

An earthquake rattled the foundation of the mansion, and bits of drywall and dust came loose.

Hag was shook, literally. "So can you hurry up with your spell to wrap things up, then? I assume you brought us here to summon a magic knife that will enact its revenge on the real killer or something?"

"Actually, no. I brought you all here to complete my legacy. I have to be honest with myself and admit that maybe we won't find TK's killer, and the tasteless general public will always believe it was me, that I could be capable of murder over something as silly as a rate reveal gone wrong. So here's the project that I was working on..."

Ratrick presented everyone with a copy of the same 200 page hardcover book, emblazoned with the title RATREATS: HOW TO DAZZLE YOUR LOYAL RATE DENIZENS AND DINNER GUESTS.

"Wait...is this a cookbook?" Hag muttered.

"Indeed. I was going to write a full memoir, but I figured this was easier because I could just come up with some flattering anecdotes and attach each one to a recipe," Ratrick replied. "The only problem is that I've never cooked before, so we need to come up with eighty recipes before the astral plane implodes. Get to work or you won't get out of here alive!"