"I must say, this is the most delicious breakfast I've had in a while," I tell the man who checked us into the inn.

The night had been wonderful. Perhaps it was the pure exhaustion from our travels, but it was the first night I had not woken up startled. I can feel the energy of the extra rest pumping through my veins. Oh, how I've missed feeling alive.

I had snuck out of the room as softly so as I could as to not wake Lucy. When I had first awoken, she caught my eye immediately. Her face had looked absolutely at peace, no muscles strained or taut. Her shining curls lay strewn across her pillows like seaweed. I had done everything in my power to sneak across to the other side of the room, open up the creaky door and slip out without waking her up.

She deserves her sleep, and I'm relieved to see that she's resting. For the past few months, she has been my morning buddy every now and then. She'd find me in the Study before the sun had come up. For the first few nights she wouldn't say anything. We never talked. It just hurt too much. But then, one morning she came in and it was the first time I had laughed since that night.

***

I pour myself a cup of tea as I sit down at the Study. Watching the purple tea leaves lazily stain the water hypnotizes me.

I open up my book and read, my fingers tired of sewing from last night. Sinking into the cushions I breathe, but it doesn't come easily like someone has lodged a knife in my back. My breath hitches on every inhale.

Just get through the sentences, I tell myself. One word after another.

I can't even concentrate on anything I'm reading. I'm just scanning letters mixed together into words. There is no story, no fairytale in my mind, just a jumbled mess of words.

"You've been reading the same page for the past four nights."

I startle at the voice behind me, my heart jumpstarting in my chest.

"Lucy?" I say both as a question and out of relief.

"If it would help, I could read it to you. You can listen."

I have to look at the cover of the book to even know what I've been so callled reading. 'Beauty and the Beast.' How ironic.

"Just a fairytale," I tell her. "Aren't they all the same?"

"That depends," she says. Does this one have a happy ending?"

"Of course it does."

"What's the point?" she says throwing herself on a cushion next to me. "I'm so tired of everything being one-dimensional. You know? Black and white. Right and wrong. Is anything ever that easy?"

"That's the reason it's called a fairytale. It's the epidemy of everything we don't have." I sigh. "It's supposed to be easy. Villain defeated, the guy gets the girl, happily ever after."

"Yes," she breathes. "Except the story continues and you never hear what happens after the book is closed," she answers cupping the side of her face. "Nothing is permanent."

"Pain is permanent," I say, and I don't know where it comes from.

"You're wrong," she counters quickly. "Pain doesn't last forever." She shakes her head, looking down at her cupped hands.

"Ooh. Watch out, Lucy. You'll start sounding like you're part of a fairytale." I say trying to lighten the mood.

I lift the cup of tea to my lips. She tosses her hair dramatically. "I already am."

I don't know why this causes me to snort, but the tea goes up and out my nose, burning a path through my esophagus.

Lucy herself laughs and the sound is like a thousand rays of sunshine after a cloudy day.

"Shall I get a pen and paper? I can write a book about you, oh perfect Princess."

"Who would want to read that?" She throws her arms up still smiling. "Here we are, in the Study at two in the morning complaining about our lives while we live in a castle."

I stop to think. "Isn't that every fairytale ever?"

This makes her laugh again. She sighs and her lips form a tight smile. "Perhaps we're only starting ours."

I don't answer as I close the book and clear my throat, the tea still burning.

"Does our story have a happy ending?" I finally ask.

"Pain doesn't last forever..." she says again, and it sounds as if she's trying to convince herself.

***

"Why, thank you," he says pouring himself a cup of coffee. "The recipe for the pancakes has been passed down from my great-grandfather, and the orange juice is always freshly squeezed from our farm here in OakenValley."

"How long have you been settled here?" I ask taking a bite of the buttery pancakes. The jelly drizzled on top gives a tartness to the very sweet pancakes. "I'm guessing the jelly is homemade as well?"

"Do you mind?" he asks pulling out the other chair at the bistro.

I shake my head, the ends of my hair tickling my waist. "No, no. Go ahead."

"My family has lived here for ages. My wife and I grew up together at the same school. There weren't many of us there, so while I was no cream of the crop, I caught her attention."

I smirk at him holding back my laughter with another bite of breakfast.

"We got to talking and both shared a love for farming, so once we had the funds to purchase a plot of land, we got to work."

"And then?"

He takes a sip from his steaming mug. "Then, we spent years perfecting our craft. Animal control, battling weather, preservation, things like that."

"Of course," I say, chiming in.

"One year we got lucky. The people in town started to get anxious... drought was coming. Half the town started to knock at our door asking for food. Nobody's crops were growing. But see, we were prepared. Those years of taking care of our soil had finally paid off. There may have been a drought, but deep underground our soil was still very moist."

"We were the only ones producing food, and we finally had our big break. Quite a bit of silver started to stack up that year and we were able to build this inn from the ground up; offer our hospitality and food in exchange for a bit of money to keep the farm going."

I stop mid-bite. "I thought our stay was free," I mumble through the pancake.

"Don't worry," he says waving his hand. "All nights of the festival are free to stay. Although..." his voice gets higher. "If I could interest you in any of our home-made goods, it would truly benefit our cause."

He points over to a doorway draped with curtains. A whole room lined with shelves, and stacked with jars of jelly and jams, different types of butter, milk and honey. There are tea leaves and canned vegetables, hanks of home spun yarn and knit blankets.

"Of course!" I say again, shoveling the last bit of breakfast into my mouth. "Listen, you really knew what you were doing when you started this business."

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, I can thank my wife for that. Quite honestly half of me wanted to send all those people away. See, we had worked hard for what we had. It was her idea to start a business from it."

"What made you stay in OakenValley?" I ask. "Besides family," I add.

He leans in close, the table rocking from the unbalanced legs. "OakenValley is the closest you can get to the Fae Realm without crossing over. The air is different here if you know what I mean."

I nod, but still say, "Enlighten me."

"Well, surely you've heard of the Great Rebel," he scoffs like everyone else does when anything Fae is brought up.

I shake my head while sipping my glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. I keep my eye roll to a minimum.

His cheeks puff out, holding the coffee he had just sipped. "What?" he says after swallowing abruptly. "Aren't you, Zaria?" He leans in again. "The Zaria that saved the Kingdom of Lumbridge doesn't know about the Great Rebel?"

"The Zaria that traveled from the real world only six months ago, had other things on her mind than studying maps of fantastical places."

"Fair," he says backing up. "And you mean the Common Realm, not this 'real world' you speak of," he says air quoting me.

"Sorry," I huff. "That's not the first time I was asked that question in the last 24 hours."

He nods his head, smiling through a frown. "I get it. You can't get very far in OakenValley without hearing of the Fae."

"Because it's so close?" I question, holding the glass between my hands, allowing it to cool my palms.

"Yes. OakenValley was the first place to get word of the Great Rebel. Their leader, Evander, he's..." he shivers. "A man of nightmares, that's who he is."

"Evander is still their leader?"

"Alive and well. He wanted more power. I won't get into specifics, but he started to steal magic from other Fae."

"Steal how?"

"Well..." he narrows his eyebrows. "There was an underground cave. He raised it from the earth. It now looks basically like a mountain." He looks confused just trying to explain it to me, who has never heard of any of this before.

"This cave," he continues. "It is a conduit of magic that was turned against the Fae by Evander. He harnessed its power so all who stepped in would lose their magic instead of strengthening it."

"Strengthen it?" I question again. My mind can't help but wander to the Crystal Cave.

"They rumor it was some sort of methodology of magic. Helped it go around or something. I really don't know. But Evander made Fae powerless, so the Great Rebel happened when the Fae came to OakenValley to transform humans into superhumans, or sorceresses. That was a hundred years ago."

"Hmm," is all I can say, my mind flying a mile a minute.

"Anyway," he says picking up his mug again. "I stay here because OakenValley is a slice of the Fea Realm in the Kingdom Realm."

"The Kingdom Realm?"

He slaps the table. "You really don't know anything, do you," he says humorously. "Let me be the first to welcome you to the Kingdom Realm; the Soil of Sovereignty." He puts his mug on the table and folds his arms.

"It just surprises me that you know nothing about this, you know... you being..." he gestures to me with his hand. "You. I just thought you would have known the history."

"Yeah, you and me both," I say under my breath, looking down.

"I really don't mean to offend. Chasing away customers is the last thing I want to do."

"Not your fault." I wave him off, sighing. "It's been a long two days. That's all. I'm sorry for my outburst."

"Apology accepted. How about another stack of pancakes?" He lowers his voice. "On the house," he says, winking.

I chuckle. "Well, I can't say no."

He stands, adjusting his suspenders and gulping the last of his coffee. "I'll get that ready for you."

"Thank you," I say, scooching my chair back. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go get some money for your shop. You've talked me into it."

"Don't mind at all." A broad smile takes over his face. "Thank you."

Strolling out of the main room I go back to our bedroom.

"Could that be the Crystal Cave?" I think to myself. It would have to be. The only cave that is a conduit of magic that I know of is the Crystal Cave, although my knowledge has proven to be lacking these past 24 hours. A guess is all I have.

Evander.

What kind of power must one possess to be able to turn a magical cave against its own magic, or maybe he didn't even have to use it against them, maybe all he did was rewire it. Like calls to like after all. Whatever he did, however he did it, is the reason humans have magic in the first place.

Then, why does Lucy hate the Fae so much? The Fae aren't the only ones who conjure evil, we don't even need to leave our Realm for that. Why hate the ones who blessed us so much? And if it was the Fae who chose us, does that mean it wasn't the gods? Did they have some type of divine consciousness, like how Tyrian can hear the souls of the dead?

I turn the knob as gently as possible and peek in. Lucy lies still, her breathing rhythmic and deep. Something tells me we will be leaving a lot later than we thought we would.

Hoisting my bag up onto my bed I silently pick through my messy collection. Three silvers should be enough for some items.

I creep out as quietly as I did last time, but this time around I stop in my tracks. My breath hitches and I cover my mouth, thinking that if I blink fast enough this image will go away or morph into something else, because what my eyes are staring at is the open face of Lucy, her hair tossed up over her ears... which have very distinct points.