We spent the rest of the afternoon in the lab, which I decided I preferred to think of as ‘the workshop,’ since it made me feel a bit less mad-scientist-ish. However, after a half an hour of me asking what things were and not really being able to follow Ken’s explanations, Ken decided to dial back my education a notch and instead provided me with a huge, leather-bound tome entitled Elementary Magical Theory. It was hand-written, but the print was clear and it was grounded - relatively speaking - in terms that related strongly to real-world physics; specifically, the movement and alteration of energy from one form to another.

That was something I could follow, even if it made my head ache a little. A bit of rummaging in drawers and cabinets turned up a pile of old-fashioned but unused composition notebooks and several pencils, so I began taking notes as I read. I managed to make it through the first three chapters - respectively entitled So You Want to be a Wizard, Energy Theory for Beginners, and The World is Weirder than Science Knows - before my stomach started to rumble and Ken headed for the kitchen to whip up some dinner for me.

“I just want to finish this chapter,” I said, tapping the huge book that was open on the worktable in front of me, with one of the composition notebooks beside it. “I feel like I’m actually starting to grasp some of the basics.”

Ken smiled. “It’s an excellent magical primer. I’ll go on ahead and get dinner started, you follow when you’re ready.”

I looked up from the book. “Without you?”

He smiled a bit more. “Yes, without me. This is as good a time as any for you to start finding your way around the House without a tour guide. Don’t worry, you can’t get lost.” He hesitated. “Well, you can’t get so lost that I wouldn’t be able to find you if you called for me. I’ll hear you from anywhere in the house, just say my name.”

I hesitated, then nodded a little, ignoring the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. “All right…before you go, is there anything in here that I definitely shouldn’t touch? Or, more to the point, use as a bookmark?”

Ken chuckled. “Right now, as a general rule of thumb, I’d say that if you don’t recognize something or can’t figure out what it’s for, leave it alone.”

“Sensible,” I agreed.

He gave me a little wave and left me alone in the workshop.

(Yes, workshop definitely suited me better.)

Rather than resume my reading and note taking, I looked around for a moment and wondered - not for the first time since I met Margrave - what I was doing. I had stepped out of the real world, and put a real life on hold, to dive headlong into…

Into what?

I leaned back in the chair and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to sort out my jumbled thoughts. This was all just so bizarre. It seemed like my life had taken a sharp and completely unexpected turn, jarring me out of real life and into some sort of fantasy novel come to life.

Magic? A house that was bigger on the inside, which I was supposed to defend against as-yet nebulous threats, with a ghost as a butler?

Maybe I should’ve named him Alfred.

That thought made me snort a little laugh, and restored a bit of my equilibrium.

Then there was the strange feeling of belonging that I’d felt as soon as I walked into the house, which hadn’t faded even a little yet. This was, something inside me said, where I was meant to be, and what I was supposed to be doing. It was like some sort of psychic beacon that the house was broadcasting to me…if anything, it had grown stronger since my arrival.

I felt a brief urge to bolt for the front door, and wondered for a moment if I’d even be able to find my way to it if the house didn’t want me to leave.

The instant that thought crossed my mind, I felt certain that it would. That if I really l wanted to leave, the house wouldn’t stop me. But it would regret my departure, and would be lost without me.

I blinked and looked around, quite positive that those thoughts and feelings hadn’t been my own.

“Are you trying to communicate with me?” I asked the room, which was empty of life except for myself.

And the House. In that moment, it truly took on - to me - the proper noun status I’d heard Margrave and Ken using. But no response came.

I smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. As bizarre and insane as this all seems to me right now, I have no real intention of leaving. This is all too interesting a puzzle for me to set it aside. Even if it is the last gasp of my brain as I lie dying on the street somewhere after being hit by a car, or something.”

I’d meant that as a joke, but it fell flat, even to my own ears. Yes, there was a little part of me that wondered - feared - that what I’d said might be true. But somehow, this all felt real to me.

Maybe more real than anything in my life up to that moment.

Feeling a bit off-kilter and confused, I tore a page out of the composition notebook, folded it in half, and used it to mark my place in Elementary Magical Theory. Then I rose and hesitated.

Should I call for Ken? Have him come and show me to the kitchen?

No. I needed to learn my way around the House if I was ever going to really learn anything about it and the strange legacy my parents had left for me.

I felt a momentary sense of quiet approval, then it was gone, making me wonder how intelligent and aware the House really was.

The workshop’s door opened onto a hallway that looked like all of the others I’d seen since arriving. I closed the door behind me and looked left and right, trying to decide which way to go. Nothing looked particularly familiar…but then I realized that if this was going to work, I wasn’t going to be looking for landmarks. I thought about what Ken had said about sensing which way to go.

To the right. I nodded a little to myself and started walking in that direction.

Walking alone through the House, I half expected to feel uneasy. I had always felt that way on my own in new places, until I’d had time to get used to them and get to know them. But here, I felt…at home, and at ease. There were no bogeymen here to jump out from around corners, no strangers to pass and smile uncertainly at. There was just me, and the House.

And some really impressive antiques and pieces of art. I paused to admire, with a history student’s eye, a suit of mixed chain and plate armor that I estimated to be from the late 1500’s…it looked authentic, and to judge by the scuffs, dings, and broken chain links, it had seen some pretty rough use. Leaning closer, I saw that the breastplate was edged with more of the runic language I’d seen elsewhere, and out of curiosity I held my left hand out towards the armor, spreading my fingers and concentrating the way Ken had shown me.

After a moment, I felt a faint stirring of energy against my hand, and got a faded impression of strength and…possessiveness? No, protectiveness. It was a much less potent sensation than what I’d felt during my lesson at the door, but still there. Perhaps the enchantments on the armor - and frankly, they had to be so old that I was a bit surprised that I could still sense them - had been added to strengthen and improve the protection provided by the breastplate.

Fascinating.

A little further down the hallway I paused again, this time to examine an exquisitely lifelike painting of a green field of tall grass with horses in it. To my astonishment - I actually took a little step back in surprise - the horses began to move after a moment, tossing their heads and grazing on the grass. I watched them idly grazing for a minute before giving myself a little shake and starting off down the hallway again.

The more I saw of this weird old House, the more I wanted to know about it. There was something here - or, more likely, multiple somethings - that had caught at my imagination and held on tight. Every door I passed, every antique and piece of artwork I glanced at, every turn I took made me want to see more.

I was only a little bit surprised when, after having gone up and down several flights of stairs to get to the workshop, I found myself walking back into the main foyer without taking a single one to get back. I shook my head a little and walked across the foyer, opening the door that (still, thankfully) led into the kitchen.

Ken looked up from the stove as I entered and smiled. “You found your way all right, I see.”

I nodded and sniffed the air. “Tomato sauce?”

Ken gave me a hopeful smile. “Do you like Tortellini?”

“What kind?”

“Three cheese, with meat sauce.”

I sat down at the table by the fireplace and smiled. “Sounds delicious.”

We didn’t really talk over dinner; I ate, and Ken cleaned up. He seemed to understand that I had a lot on my mind and wasn’t really in the mood for conversation. Instead, he hovered (pardon the pun) solicitously about, refilling my drink, making sure I had enough to eat, and finally packing up and putting away the leftovers as I sipped a cup of delicious herbal tea afterwards.

I skipped desert, a bit worried about overeating after the large pasta dinner, and decided that it was time for bed. On the long walk back to my bedroom, I realized that I found the house to feel more inviting now, somehow. Maybe it was just that I’d managed to find my way - or successfully been guided by the House itself - from one location to another without needing a guide.

Perhaps it also had to do with my earlier revelation that there was much to see and learn about the house itself, beyond whatever secrets - and hidden dangers - my father had left for me to discover. The House was a beautiful thing in and of itself, with its own magic beyond that which enchanted it. It was beautiful and a fascinating mystery, and I realized that I was perhaps beginning to fall in love with the weird old place. Something about it…or maybe many things about it…had caught at my attention and held on tight.

By the time we reached my bedroom door, with its painted leaf and purple glass fairy, I felt certain in a way I’d never felt before that this was where I belonged. Not beyond all doubt…I had doubts. But I was able to recognize them for what they were: the natural by-product of being in a new environment that I didn’t completely understand or know yet.

The door to my room had a fresh surprise waiting for me. Expecting to have to unlock it with the Master Key, I took hold of the doorknob and reached out with the key, only to hear the lock make its soft ratchet-and-click sounds as it unlocked by itself. Still holding the doorknob, I looked at Ken and raised an eyebrow.

He smiled reassuringly. “Take it as another good sign. The House is acknowledging your ownership and the fact that you’ve already opened this room once. As you unlock more doors, the House will start to automatically open them for you and re-lock them behind you. Eventually, every door in the House will open for you automatically, whether you’ve visited it before or not. Unless you - or one of the Key’s previous holders - explicitly made a point of locking a door, in which case it will take an equal act of willful unlocking to open it again.”

I spent a moment sorting that out in my head. “Huh. All right. So…just how intelligent and aware is the House?”

Ken gave me a rather whimsical smile. “That’s a really interesting question. I’m honestly not certain. I’d say less than sentient, but more than animal instinct. In my experience, it’s aware of everyone inside of it and everything that happens within it and within its boundaries. I’ve known it to react - as you’ve just seen - accordingly, and it has ways of making its desires known. But, as far as I know, it’s never actually literally communicated with anyone.”

“I…see,” I said, not really seeing at all. On one level, his explanation made sense to me. But I was still having trouble wrapping my head around the big picture. I was, so to speak, beginning to see the trees, but still unable to make out the forest.

Ken smiled and, as I was beginning to grow accustomed to, seemed to read my mind. “Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense eventually. I promise.”

“Really?”

He hesitated, shrugged a little. “As much as this House and its nature can make sense to anyone, at least.”

“Strangely,” I said, meaning it, “I find that reassuring.”

I must have sounded more relieved than I’d intended, because his smile grew as I opened the door. Or maybe that wasn’t what was making him smile, since it seemed to me that there was an impish gleam in his eyes.

It was at that point, triggered by what I saw as we entered the room, that I remembered the ring he’d had me put on earlier, and his comment about it being a surprise for me.

Just outside the windows on the far side of the room, a hazy sphere of rich purple light was darting from one end of the long windowpane to the other, and back again. It was moving so fast that every few passes it seemed to leave a purple streak in its wake. As the door closed behind me, without any other warning, the…whatever it was…stopped in mid-pass and smacked up against the window with a soft but distinctly audible *thunk*.

Beside me, I saw Ken’s smile turn into an almost manic grin, as I blurted out. “What the hell is that?”

Ken laughed. “You should go and open the window.”

I gave him my best doubting look.

“It’s perfectly safe,” he assured me. “I promise. This is the surprise.”

I continued to stare at him for a long moment, then warily moved towards the window. As I got closer, I could see that the sphere of purple light was about the size of a softball, and that there was a tiny figure at the center of it.

By the time I settled to my knees on the window seat, I could see that the figure was female and exquisitely beautiful. She had short hair that was the same color as the sphere of light surrounding her - or, rather, seemed to be emanating from her, as her skin actually seemed to glow with a faint sheen of purple radiance - and the delicate points of her ears poked through her short hair. The air behind her shoulders seemed to blur with the beat of what I assumed were wings, moving too quickly for my eyes to really see. She wore a tunic of what appeared to be silk, in a darker shade of purple than her hair, with short sleeves and a scooped neck, its hem falling to mid-thigh on her.

As her bare feet touched down on the windowsill outside, the sphere of light faded out and the blur of motion behind her resolved into a quartet of perfectly formed dragonfly-like wings. They were translucent, and seemed to ripple with shades of purple as she gave them one last flip and folded them down her back, their tips just touching the backs of her knees.

She flattened herself against the glass and peered back at me, cupping her hands around her eyes to cut down on the glare. After a moment, her face began to glow (metaphorically, not literally) with a radiant smile. Then she rapped tiny knuckles on the window, making the glass rattle gently.

I glanced at Ken, who nodded and gestured encouragingly towards the window. So, after another moment’s hesitation, and unable to see how this beautiful little creature could possibly harm me (to be honest, that she might want to never even crossed my mind), I opened the window.

The fairy - at least, that’s what I was assuming she must be - flung herself through the open window and collided with my chest hard enough to make me sway backwards for a moment. By the time I regained my balance and shed a bit of my shock, she was clinging to my blouse and sobbing happily, babbling away so fast that it took my brain a moment to disentangle and make sense of her words.

“Oh, Mistress Chessie, I’m so glad you’re finally home! Master James said you’d never be coming back, but I knew you wouldn’t leave me behind, and I knew you’d be back before too long! I felt it as soon as you put my ring on, and now you’re here, and I’m never ever ever leaving your side again!”

I gave Ken a completely bewildered look. He just stood there, smiling an amused - and slightly sad - little smile as she continued on in that vein unabated. She never even seemed to stop to take a breath.

Then it finally clicked. She’d said ‘as soon as you put my ring on.’

“Sparkle?” I asked curiously.

She looked up at me, her stream of consciousness dialog cutting off instantly. “Yes, Mistress?”

Then she frowned - which was absolutely adorable - and took a longer, better look at me. In an instant, she released my blouse and was hovering in front of my face, her glow returned and her wings buzzing faintly. “You’re not Mistress Chessie!” she accused, darting back and forth and looking at me from different angles. Then her eyes widened and she gasped, pointing at me. “You’re Mistress Caitlyn, aren’t you!”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being called ‘mistress’ by this pretty little creature, but now didn’t feel like the time to question that point.

Her eyes had grown almost comically wide. “But…but…you’re a baby!”

Ken drifted up beside me and murmured in my ear, “Fairies…especially pixies…have a very weak grasp of time. They have a tendency to lose track of it completely when they’re not around mortals.”

“Ah,” I said, mentally setting the implications of that aside for later consideration. Tentatively, I held out my hand palm up, and after a moment’s hesitation Sparkle alighted there, so lightly that I barely felt her land. “Sparkle,” I said gently, “it’s been more than twenty years since the last time you saw me.”

“Oh!” She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “So…Mistress Chessie’s really gone…”

I nodded a little. “I’m sorry.”

She stared at me in silence, her eyes full of tears. She seemed to experience emotions profoundly and rapidly, blowing through them with full intensity but dramatically reduced duration. She glanced down at the ring on my hand before meeting my eyes and swiping the tears from her own, suddenly beaming again. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here, and Mistress Chessie obviously left my ring for you, which means I’m yours now!” She nodded firmly to punctuate this declaration.

I sternly addressed my inner confusion, reminding it of my resolution to stop making bewildered noises. The House and my new situation did seem to have a way of throwing wild curves in my path.

Sparkle straightened and bobbed an adorable but completely serious curtsy before beaming up at me. “Mistress Caitlyn, I’m yours to command! I’ll never ever leave your side!”