“So, dumb question,” I say as we walk through the woods. “What’s a faerie? I usually think of Tinker Bell when I think of faeries.”

“She would be more of a pixie,” Mom says, as if we are talking about something mundane like dog breeds. “The Fae encompass a wide range of magical beings. Well, what we would think of as magical, anyway. To them, using magic, glamor, controlling the elements—it’s all just the same as any other skill. Like playing an instrument or programming a computer.”

“Magic—it’s like programming a computer,” I say, laughing to myself.

Mom doesn’t seem impressed by my joke, so I knock it off before she decides to stop talking.

“If it comes naturally to them,” I ask, “then why is there a school for it?”

“Why do violin prodigies go to Julliard?” she says with a small smile. “Playing an instrument isn’t really a natural skill. Even musical geniuses have to study and practice their craft. It is the same with magic.”

“Wait a minute—you mean… I’m going to learn how to use magic? Magic I already have?”

Mom shrugs. “Well, what did you think you were going there for?”

I have no idea. I want to point out that she’s the reason I don’t know, but I bite my tongue. She’s taking me there…without a fight. I don’t want to ruin it.

“How long do you think I’ll be gone?” I ask. “Is it like college? A four-year commitment?”

“A little longer,” she says. “I think their programs are for five years.”

“Five years?” I gasp. My jaw drops, and I stop walking. “I’m going to be away for five years?”

“Well, you’ll come home in the summer, and for holidays if you want, just like college.” She keeps walking.

I close my mouth, trotting to catch back up with her. Five years! Five years in the same place. I could actually unpack my clothes. Maybe make a friend. I can’t even imagine it.

“To be honest,” Mom says, “I’m not really sure what you can expect. I guess I always thought if I kept us moving, I wouldn’t just outrun the Fae, but your powers as well.”

“But you knew it was catching up with us,” I say. “You knew about the headaches.”

“Ever hear of denial?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. She wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me against her side as we walk. “But, yeah, that’s why we were moving more often. Instead of every six months, I was moving us every two or three. It was catching up with us, so I needed to move faster. I should have known better, I suppose.”

“You were only doing what you thought was best.” I try to sound sympathetic, even though I’m still annoyed by the whole thing.

More than annoyed, frankly. Angry. Furious is probably a better word. I love my mom, but that she tried to hide who I am from me winds me up tighter the more I think about it. But at the same time, she’s my mom. So I want her to be happy.

“We’re here,” she says.

It’s dark outside, but the full moon illuminates a tree in front of us. Ivy and flowers are creeping up the trunk, and seem to form an arch on the bark.

“Where?” I ask.

“This is a faerie door. It’s a gateway to the Fae realm.”

“How did you know this was here?” I ask.

“They’re everywhere,” she says. “You just have to know where to look. Your father taught me.”

I turn the flashlight on my cell phone on, and shine it on the “door.” I touch it, but I only feel bark and leaves.

“I’ll have to open it for you,” she says. She approaches the tree, moving her hands over it in a pattern too quick for me to remember. A bright light begins to shine, as though through the edges of a closed door. Suddenly, it is clear to me, as well; its shape, hinges, and doorknob become obvious.

“Okay, so, that was cool,” I breathe, barely able to contain myself. If my mom can do that without magic, then what can I do? “How did you know how to do that?”

“Your father,” she says with a meek smile. “Although, he doesn’t know I know that one.”

I raise an eyebrow, a little impressed she’d learned one of the Fae’s secrets without them wanting her to.

“Is he…is he in there?” I ask, motioning toward the door. “Will I meet him on the other side?”

“I doubt it,” Mom says. “The Fae world is far larger than this one. But when you go through, you will use his surname.”

“Roberts?” I ask, since that is the only one I know.

“No, no,” she says. “Flareburn. Garrick Roberts was just a human name he adopted.”

I feel annoyed once again, but it passes. I’m sure once I’m on the other side, I will think of a million questions I should have asked, but right now, I’m coming up blank.

“Okay, I guess I’m going now,” I say, more to myself than to Mom, but she grabs my hand.

Gathering me close to her, she wraps her arms around me. I breathe in her familiar scent, trying not to freak out that I’ll be leaving her for the first time to make my way alone in an alien world.

“Be careful in there,” she says, pulling away. “You can always come back to me. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

I nod, but don’t reply. I won’t let myself cry.

I reach for the handle, and pull the door open.

Bright light shines through the opening. It is still nighttime in my world, so it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust.

“About time,” a man’s voice says.

My vision clears, and I can see green—so much green—through the door. A man is standing there, and he beckons me through. I glance back at Mom. She squeezes my hand one last time before I pull away from her.

As I step through, the man peers over my shoulder at Mom, and his mouth presses into an angry line. I guess he’s mad a human is looking into the faerie realm.

“Don’t be mad at her,” I say. “She’s just dropping me off.”

The man grunts, and turns to walk away. I look at Mom, but the door fades from view, and just like that, she’s gone. My life—everything I’ve ever known—is gone.

My gaze darts everywhere, taking in this new world. At first glance, it isn’t much different from the one I just left. I’m in a forest. A very old forest. With a canopy of leaves so thick I can hardly see the sky above me.

Everything here seems…larger. The smallest flower is as big as my hand, and most others are larger than my head. Mushrooms are wide enough to sit on, and tall enough that all I’d have to do is bend my knees to take a seat. And even though the sun is blocked by the trees, all the colors seem brighter, more vivid than before. It’s as though I’d lived my entire life with sunglass on, and I just took them off.

I chase after the man. He’s wearing a long, tattered cape, a floppy hat, and has a dark, nicely trimmed beard.

“Wait,” I call out. “Who are you? Where are we?”

“You can call me Damon,” he says. “And what name do you go by?”

“Imogen R…Flareburn,” I say.

“Rareburn, huh?” he mumbles.

“No, Flareburn,” I say. “It was my father’s name, I guess.”

“Don’t you know?” he asks sharply.

“Not really.” I give a one-sided shrug. “I only found out about all this stuff a few hours ago, when Absinthe and her goons showed up to try to kidnap me.”

“Your mother didn’t tell you anything about us?” he asks, softening a little.

“I already told you she didn’t,” I answer. “Before tonight, I didn’t know Fae existed, much less that I was one of them…err, you. Us?”

Damon chuckles. “Calm your horses, girl,” he says. “You aren’t the first person to be brought to a door with no idea what’s going on.”

“So I’ve gathered,” I say. “Guess it’s pretty common for halflings to have to be tracked down.”

“Aye,” he says. “Too often. There are rules against fraternizing with humans like that, but you just try telling horny teenagers to keep it in their pants.”

“I guess hormones are the same everywhere.” That, at least, seems normal.

“True enough.”

“So, are you like some Fae doorman or something?” I ask, not sure if it’ll offend him, but not sure I care if it does.

“I was sent to collect you,” Damon says. “Absinthe said you’d be coming. I’m in charge of getting you to Callador alive.”

“Alive?” The word makes me instantly wary, and I try to laugh it off. “Was there some other alternative?”

Something slams into my side so hard I’m knocked to the ground. When I raise my head, I see Damon struggling with what looks like a large bug. He grabs it by the wings and flings it away, but it quickly recovers, flying straight toward him. He flips his cape to the side, revealing a long staff. After he pulls it free, he swings it at the bug in one quick movement. The bug hisses, but then flies away at a limp, one of its wings damaged.

Damon walks over and offers me his hand. “That door was through Dark Fae territory, so, yes, I have to deliver you safely home.”

There are so many questions pinging through my mind. Dark Fae? Territories? Giant flying bugs?

But it was his last word that sticks to me. Home.

I can’t remember the last time I considered a place home. I always considered the places Mom and I were living just where we stayed for the moment. But they were never home.

I’m thinking all these things, trying to figure out what I want to ask Damon first, when the flying bug returns, this time with friends. I can hear their wings buzzing before I can see them.

“What’s that sound?” I ask. A prickling feeling at the back of my neck tells me it’s danger, and I brace myself.

“Nothing good,” Damon answers. He assumes a fighting stance, holding his staff at the ready. I have no idea what I should be doing, so I just stand next to him.

The bugs burst from the forest, dive bombing us with no warning. Damon’s staff twirls in slashing movements almost too fast for my eyes to track. Left, right, left again, sending bugs careening into trees. But there are too many of them. I turn from side to side, guarding my face, trying to keep them from attacking me from behind. What I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry.

“Don’t just stand there,” Damon yells. “Help!”

“How?” I scream.

Damon grunts as he beats one of the bugs to death, a black goop that must be blood splashing his face. “Forget it. She apparently taught you nothing.”

Who? My mom? What was she supposed to teach me? She could have clued me in on what I was, but it’s not as if she could have taught me Fae combat—or whatever this was. If Damon wants to be mad at someone, it should be my dad.

“She taught me plenty.” Angrily, I grab a stick from the ground and start swinging.

“That isn’t going to do anything, you idiot.”

He mutters something about stupid humans, but I ignore him. One of the bugs flies at me, and I swing with all my might. The bug is stronger than I anticipated, and the force from the blow just ends up knocking me on my butt. With an oomph, all the air leaves my lungs.

“Good,” Damon yells. “Stay down!”

Taking a deep breath, he moves his arms in slow, controlled motions. He grunts as fire bursts forth, roasting the bugs that are too close and singeing the ones that are farther, causing them to go screaming into the forest. Glittering sparks seem to be falling around him when he turns to me.

“Couldn’t you have just done that in the beginning?” I stand up, wiping the dirt and grass from my pants, trying not to look sullen.

“In a fight, always wait for the right moment to strike,” Damon says. “Let that be your first lesson, Flareburn.”

I get the sense he’s toying with me, as if this won’t be the last lesson he personally teaches me.

The rest of the journey is uneventful, so I just take in my surroundings. The air is so clean, it’s like breathing for the first time. When the sun peeks through the branches, it feels warm and inviting on my skin. Every once in a while, I catch Damon sneaking glances at me, as if he is looking for something on my face.

“Do you know me?” I finally ask. “I mean, have you seen me before? Do you know who my father is?”

“I have no idea who your father is,” he says. “Flareburn is a rather common name.”

He nearly spits out the word common, the way I imagine a posh Londoner might spit the word Cockney.

“Do you mean common like lots of people have that name or common like low class?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.

“One in the same,” Damon says.

“Great.” I sigh, but I have no time to despair over this. The forest clears ahead of us, and we exit into a large open field.

“There,” Damon says, pointing in the distance. “Callador. Your new home.”

“Home,” I whisper, the word falling from my lips. It tastes glorious, even though I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life.

The building he’s pointing at is massive. Even at such a distance away, I can tell it’s enormous. It reminds me of a Gothic cathedral. I once saw Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, with its tall spires, large pillars, and ornate decorations, but this is much bigger, and the stones are a dark, heavy gray. It nearly takes my breath away.

“Come on,” Damon says. “Still quite a trek to get there.”

“They don’t have cars in the Fae realm?” I huff, the exertion getting to me.

“No, but we don’t have much pollution, either. You think this clear sky happens by accident?”

I was thinking the beauty of the Fae realm was unnatural—magical. But now I wonder if my world could be this vibrant, this lush, if humans had taken better care of it. I keep my observations to myself since I don’t want to get into a debate over environmentalism with my new host.

We soon come to a cobblestone road, which leads us to Callador. It isn’t long before the massive cathedral looms over us. The closer we get, the more amazing it is. The cathedral seems to be cobbled together, yet it also appears to be the work of a master artisan. Stone, trees, ivy, and crystals all come together to form the walls, pillars, and windows. It is both designed and yet naturally formed at the same time.

We’re not alone, either. Men and women in light, flowing garments watch us from the windows as we approach. To my left, I see something small moving quickly. No, someone! It’s human shaped, like the dwarves from Snow White. Then to my right, in the ivy growing along the path, tiny creatures move about. Upon closer inspection, I realize they are minuscule lizards with wings. Like little dragons. They are so cute I want one as a pet. I reach out with one finger to touch one, entranced.

“Hey! Back off, big-o!” One of the dragons flies up and buzzes around my head like an angry bee, and it’s yelling at me as best it can. Its voice is barely loud enough for me to make out.

“Sorry.” I wince, feeling bad. “I’ve just never seen anything like you before.”

“And you never will again if you go around touching us uninvited!” she—I think—huffs at me before flying back to her friends.

“Sorry,” I say again.

“Hey! Leave the dragonettes alone and get over here,” Damon yells.

The gate ahead of us is heavy and dark, but as we near it, it opens automatically.

When we enter Callador, the world certainly feels changed. The room is wide, tall, and open, and it feels dark and light at the same time. There are no candles burning, but I have no problem seeing. In front of us, a stairwell stretches up to a grand second floor. Several men and women, again in the flowing robes, descend the steps toward us. They all have long hair. The men have theirs pinned or pulled back in simple arrangements, but the women have theirs elegantly curled and braided on top of their heads in ornate designs. I suddenly feel a little self-conscious about my jeans, boots, and shoulder-length layers.

“Imogen Flareburn,” Damon announces, as if by way of introduction.

One of the women steps forward. “Hold out your hand,” she says to me.

When I glance at Damon for guidance, he nods. I do so, but I can’t stop my hand from trembling.

One of the men passes her what looks like a large thorn. The woman takes it from him, stabbing it into my palm without a word. I flinch as a droplet of red wells up. She crushes the thorn with her fingers before rubbing it into the blood. The pulpy bits of plant matter turn to red and orange glitter in my hand. In a whoosh, it rises, sparking before turning to smoke and disappearing into the air.

“Whoa,” I can’t help but say.

“Pyralis Hall,” the woman says. She shouts it into the foyer, presumably so everyone nearby can hear. With a threatening glare in her eyes, she studies me. Finally, her lips twitch into a smile. “Welcome home, Imogen Flareburn.”

I gulp. I hadn’t realized “home” would feel so…so…

Intimidating.