One April day—although Marla thought it was March as her self-tracked timeline was about 6 days off—their door knob turned.

It had been months since they had last seen that door move. In the interim, Marla and Scott had both tried their fists and ramming end tables into it to break it open, but the door must have been reinforced—maybe even magically— because it hadn't budged.

At the creak of the door, Marla and Scott paused their game of chess. It had been one of the entertainments gifted to them about a month ago. Before all the ruckus began and the gifts ceased.

The Sphinx walked in. He sighed and his body had a hunch that hadn't there before. His clothes were also much drabbier. Satisfaction preened in Marla's heart to see him so low.

But, when his eyes met hers, the dark irises were the same. Yet, she knew something had changed for him. What changed? Why was he here?

Shock traveled from her eyes down to her toes, energizing her. She felt like she was back to that first night when everything felt like a dream. This was it. Was this the end?

"You!" She accused, jumping to her feet.

"Please release us." Scott interlocked his hands."Please, please, I beg."

"Goddamn you!" Marla yelled. They unwittingly went for a bit of a good cop, unhinged cop kind of approach.

The Sphinx heaved a heavy sigh. "I thought I would provide an introduction but I might as well just step aside. Come in."

He stepped aside and her parents walked through the door. Her heart stopped.

The last few months had never really felt like reality, and instead like a terrifying nightmare. But, this was her dream.

No, literally, it was.

This was a dream she'd been having ever since her parents' funeral a few years ago. It always started with the door opening and her parents walking in. Marla must be asleep.

"Momma? Dad?"

"I'm sorry we had to lie to you, Marlie." Her mom smiled, her little dipple indenting her cheek.

This was a dream—her parents alive and apologizing to her. Joy leaped through her finger tips and she stretched towards them.

"Oh, Momma!" Marla rushed to hug her parents. They were solid. They were real. "Dad! Oh, good Lord!"

It had to be reality, because, even in her wildest dreams, her parents had always dissolved into nothing before she could ever hug them. Not this time.

She stepped back and ran her hands over her their faces. It was all there. Her mom's little glasses even.

Every thing was how she remembered. Their smiles, their eyes, their voices.

Tears gushed.

At this point, Marla was inclined to believe all death was some illusion God had concocted to keep her in line. It kept proving to be temporal.

"What is this, Dad?" She trailed her nail over a small scar on his lip. She didn't remember this. This was different.

"Little pixie got short with me," he said.

There it was again. This magic. Marla understood now. There was no world with her baby girl, her mom, and her dad without this magic. For that, she would gladly accept a million preposterous things.

It might have been a hour before Marla was okay with not having at least one of her hands entwined with one of her parents. It just felt like if she let go, they would disappear. That she would wake from the dream, and it would be December again, and she'd wake up against her front doorway with the remnants of chicken wings and Tupperware on her lap.

The hours passed and she listened to their stories about masked meetings, subterfuge, battles, and magical beings. It was interesting, but a pit of shame and sadness sat in her stomach.

It hurt that she was never apart of this. It hurt that she never actually knew her parents.

On the outside, that teesny scar was the only change from the parents she once knew. But, on the inside, she didn't recognize a thing.

They unveiled their lives to her and scrapped the past façade. They never met in the Chicago Zoo. They were never zookeepers. They never asphyxiated in a trailer home.

She felt shame that she had never been deemed good enough to be a part of their world. Would they have ever told her if the Sphinx hadn't kidnapped her and Scott? It didn't sound like it. The realization hurt like eagle talons raking across her heart.

Then guilt weighed her heart down for feeling such traitorous feelings with such a miracle in front of her. And for being mad at her parents who have obviously sacrificed so much for a cause they believed in. They even sacrificed their relationship with her.

Marla would do anything for her children—forsake any cause. It seemed her parents hadn't chosen that. Morally, they were superior.

For Marla, it was a knife to the heart.

It would have been a lie to say that Marla had had a good relationship with her parents. She had been a rebellious teenager; their ideologies never aligned. Marla remembered saying hurtful things that had kept her up at night. Especially once she had believed they'd died and Marla had left it on that note.

A small worry creeped through Marla like saline drip—that maybe that had made it easier for them to fake their deaths. That their daughter hadn't really cared about them. Well, really, all the children who had moved away from Connecticut hadn't really cared.

But how could they have cared when they hadn't even known their own parents?

Marla had always felt like there had been something her parents were keeping from her and her siblings—some inside joke. It had infuriated her to no end. Kitchen table conversations between her parents stopping when she walked in. Their trips they refused to take any of the kids on.

She finally knew why.

She had used to say to her sister that she wished that they were just more transparent with whatever they didn't want them to know. Was it some weird sex thing? Whatever, they were all adults now. Hookers? Gambling? Like, what in the world was it when you went on a trip for 14 days and all you could say was 'it was good'?

When kids had whispered about the Illuminati in grade school, Marla had actually believed that was what had been wrong with her parents.

Had Mom and Dad ever planned to tell any one of the kids? Or were their parents just too good for them?

Of course, in that initial, tearful moment of reconnection, Marla hadn't dived too deep into such thoughts. The exultation and joy had obscured all that for hours.

No, it was as she was falling asleep that night that she began to think terrifying questions that followed her into her nightmares.

Did she even know her own parents?

Should she tell her siblings?

Was this story another façade?

How would she ever know?

──────

The next day, Marla and Scott received word that Kendra and Seth had arrived at Living Mirage. That's right—Marla finally knew the name of her lodging for the past three months. She had also learned that it had been three months.

So, when Scott opened the door and his breathing stopped, Marla knew who it was before he even said: "It's the kids."

Scott enveloped Kendra in a bear hug, waddling side to side. When Marla heard her baby girl say hi to her daddy, she almost collapsed onto the rug in that moment. The small hope she had let fester bloomed in this moment. It was real. It was all real.

Seth walked to the side and put his hands on his hips. "Of course Kendra gets all the attention because you thought she was dead. I had a bunch of near misses, you know. Probably more than her!"

A hysterical giggle escaped Marla at her son's impetutousness as she scooped up Scott and Kendra in big hug. It was Kendra, in the flesh in her hands. Who knew biting the apple led to such good gifts?

Scott left the hug to talk to Seth, but Marla kept her arms wrapped around her daughter. Her baby, in her arms. It was a dream, a miracle, an act of God. She sent silent praise to a deity she questioned because this was her baby and she was in her arms.

In her revelry, a comment from Seth brought her over to him and she embraced him. She had worried for his health and safety countless times during their stay and had cursed herself for letting him get involved in such dangerous activities. It felt good to have him solidly and healthily in her arms.

"Hey, Mom," Seth grunted. "I thought I was kidding about the strangulation."

Marla just laughed and squeezed harder.

──────

There were many times in Marla's life where she had agonized over a minor decision or had believed life was passing her by. Or that she was walking on the wrong path.

However, looking back now, Marla could only count actual important decisions on one hand. Marrying Scott. Having Kendra. Having Seth.

Otherwise, everything else—career, picking a place to live, what friends to make, should Marla join that yoga class? Her coworker said it was really good, but her mornings were already so cramped. But there would always be a million excuses not to exercise. So Marla should do it. But what about the gas cost every Tuesday there and—

None of it had mattered. No matter what she had chosen in her old life, the immutable event of being kidnapped and exposed to this magical world had fundamentally altered her life. She didn't work for her old employer anymore. She didn't live in Rochester. She didn't go to that Yoga class.

It felt like there was a distinct before and after. Sometimes it was hard to tell which side felt like a dream.

Now, she worked from home editing articles for a science publication. Scott hadn't found a job yet. He was considering just helping Dale and doing chores around the preserve. Marla told him it would be bad for his back.

In the interim, he was coaching football at the local middle-high school where Seth would be going into eighth and Kendra into tenth. Their schooling was weird as they had crossed state lines so standards already didn't match up, but then of course, they had missed the latter half of their seventh and ninth grade year. But, both had decided to continue to the next grade and just make up the missing slack on the side.

Also, they now lived on a magical preserve full of creatures unbeknownst to Marla before age forty-three.

Sometimes, she woke up and considered a different life from this new one that had been thrust upon her. Like today.

Sun rays highlighted the country animal patterned quilt on the bed as Marla tucked the sheets back in. Scott had gotten up before her and so she had been stuck with making the bed.

After primping the pillows, she sat on the bedside and looked out the window. Beautiful gardens blossomed in the summer heat and butterflies clustered around bird pools.

It looked completely normal. No magic.

Marla checked her watch—nine in the morning. The accessory was a constant companion to her now. The way it bothered Marla to be up after eight even on a Sunday felt familiar and safe to her. It solidified the stark contrast of the timeless world she had lived in from Kendra's funeral to being released from prison.

Trailing her fingers along the smooth wooden banister, Marla floated down to the ground floor where she made her coffee for the day.

Her new usual recipe was like how she had made it in the before, except now she usually added a special kind of milk.

Although, every time she drank the milk, she was reminded of Viola. Marla hated the crowded barn they kept her in.

Viola felt the most real to her. Marla didn't need the special milk to see the cow, and in that way, she was the most real. That made it even more distressing how tiny her enclosure was. It reminded Marla of her own old prison cell. Except if it had been like a coffin that butted up against her on every side.

Poor Viola.

Marla had voiced mild opposition on occasion but her in-laws ran the preserve and in-laws were never the easiest people to fight with.

She picked up the mug and tasted the bitterness. Today, Marla didn't add the milk and took her coffee black instead.

Sometimes, it was just not something she wanted to confront. The fairies, the satyrs, the wraiths (Marla had finally learned what that cloud of darkness had been), it was all too much sometimes.

On her way to see Viola, Marla spotted two goats up against the yard line.

She had met them before and now saw them often. Even their spotted hide in goat form was familiar to her. Newel and Doren.

She promised them that she would tell Seth that they had come by and received a bleat in return as she continued on her walk.

Did she feel weird that some of her son's closest friends were much, much older than him and also magical satyrs? Yes. Absolutely. But, Marla was much more disturbed by their ages and personalities than their magical existence which her family considered a win.

However, she was hesitant to ever voice any of her concerns that ever dealt with magic. No way did she want to give her family a reason to leave her on the fringes again.

That was Marla's biggest fear. That there was still something huge for her to find out that her parents and children weren't telling her.

Sometimes it felt that way. Like she was a child, and the grown-ups weren't letting her in on something. That their conversation would stop when she crossed the doorway.

She smoothed those doubts away. Otherwise, the anxiety would eat at her until there was nothing left. Marla had learned that very well.

One night about two weeks ago, she had even googled therapists in her area. Of course, it was fruitless as any therapist would think she was crazy for talking about magic.

That's why they needed therapists that knew about magic. That was a gap in the magic community.

There were many gaps in the magic community as Marla had come to realize. There was no newsletter, no doctors, no mental health system, no schools, no nothing.

It made some kind of sense as Marla figured the more analytical, data-crunching people like her that would be concerned with such infrastructure failure were most likely not in the magical community, and that was why those gaps existed. It took a certain kind of person to seek out and embrace the nonsensical. That was not Marla or her colleagues who liked lists, checkboxes, and rigid MLA formatting rules.

Nevertheless, there was a document on her laptop dedicated to the idea of a newsletter for the magical community. It would be subscription-based, and Stan could advertise it to other preserves and the Knights of Dawn.

It could have advice columns about magical creatures or potions. There could be features on preserves or memorandums about the war that had concluded months ago. Maybe even recipes or a personals column for like-minded individuals to find dates. A newsletter could highlight these gaps and unite the community.

Of course, Marla had always been an editor, not a journalist.

Her thoughts had gotten away from her on her journey yet she still found herself at Viola's barn.

"Good morning," Marla said to Dale as she walked in. He was dismantling the ladder and equipment needed for milking.

He nodded at her and resumed his work.

Marla liked Dale. He was the grounded person she needed—the salt of the earth.

Viola stood towering over the both of them. Marla rubbed her front leg, her hand tiny compared to the width. "Hi, darling."

Dale finished packing away his supplies and stood awkwardly for a moment. "I repaired the old ladder to the fourth floor if you'd like to get on eye-level."

"Oh," Marla said. Warmth blossomed in her heart at the consideration. She would absolutely love that. "Thank you."

He nodded and left.

Floors were really a misnomer. There were small lofts, like balconies without a railing up to the top. The third loft served as the feed trough.

Marla scaled the ladder, feeling the ache in her muscles by the second floor and really regretting her decision by the third as she batted back hay. But, she figured she had already come so far and continued to the top.

Viola's big dinner-plate sized brown eyes blinked at her once she reached her destination.

"Hey Viola," Marla said.

Viola mooed back. Marla laughed in delight.

She wanted to take a step closer but with no railing, she was pretty terrified to get any closer to the loft's edge.

She reached out a hand and Viola lowered her head towards her. Marla stilled herself and took a tiny step closer to stroke Viola's nose.

Marla remained there for the next thirty minutes, petting Viola and telling her about her plans for the day. Viola was there for her in every way. She was the only indelible proof of magic sans special substances, and she always listened to Marla. In a weird way, Marla felt like the milch cow was one of her closest friends.

Of course, that probably meant that Marla needed to get out and meet new people in the area, but she just didn't think she was ready for that. She would be, eventually, but just not now. For now, Viola was content to listen to her existential rants and mumblings.

Just as Marla finished a story, she heard creaking from behind and turned to see Kendra climb up beside her.

"This is really high up."

"I wanted to see Viola." A soft moo came from the milch cow. Marla felt a little embarrassed. Kendra and Seth were getting to the age where they were beginning to see their parents as deeply uncool, and Marla feared she might have sped up the process since her daughter found her talking to cows.

"Dale told me you'd be up here. Grandpa wanted me to ask you if you wanted steaks or lobster tonight. They're having a big dinner to celebrate Warren's departure," Kendra said.

"What do you think?"

"I voted for lobster."

"Then that's my vote. Come here." Marla wrapped an arm around Kendra and kissed the top of her head. "Pretty girl."

Marla turned to face the cow. "This is my daughter, Viola. How cool is that?"

Viola mooed back. Flutters of delight pulled Marla's lips into a smile.

"Do you think she understands me?" Marla asked of her daughter. It was half in jest. It had been good to take a step back and constantly resort to using her children to clarify magical things for her on the preserve.

But, sometimes she still didn't understand what they were talking about. It made her feel like she was twelve again, staring up at her dad's face as he finished telling a joke. Having to say "I don't get it" and seeing that look in his eyes that said he didn't believe she would ever "get it."

But, Marla took a deep breath and listened to Kendra's answer.

"I think she knows her name." Kendra looked around at the empty loft. "I haven't been in the barn in a long time. Ever since Seth and I had to milk Viola."

Marla knew what she was referring to. When her poor children were only eleven and thirteen, they endured great hardship that involved Viola. Anger and guilt swelled up in Marla. She couldn't believe these good people that she knew and loved at Fablehaven had let her children continually go through such harrowing adventures over and over. She also couldn't believe she never noticed.

But her daughter didn't deserve to hear any of those complex feelings about her adventures, so she focused back on her good bovine friend.

"I like seeing Viola." Another moo. "Yes, we're talking about you darling. Do you have any homework to do for tomorrow?"

"No, I finished it all Friday. Seth has a project due tomorrow though. I don't know if he's started."

"Of course. Well, I think I'll stay here for the next hour or so. Tell me if you need anything."

"I will. Bye Viola."

A soft moo followed Kendra on her way down the ladder and out the barn. The barn door clanged behind her.

It was a Sunday morning and Marla was in a barn instead of church.

It was a struggle. Her faith wasn't the same as it had been before all of this mess. The changes were too nascent to know the future, but it was different.

She and Scott had had long conversations about the church. That was where he was, actually, right now. Church.

They hadn't spent much time with each other for the last month, but Marla wasn't worried. After living in a small bed and bath together for several months with no escape, she could predict his entire mood and future actions from a glimpse. They were taking sort of a detox from each other as they each learned how to live in their new world. But, when they snuggled into bed every night, Marla knew that they were each other's security blanket.

But, Scott was taking this a lot better than she was.

Even as a kid sitting in an itchy chair during Sunday School, Marla had struggled. All the allegories and metaphors and extended stories had translated very literally in her young mind. Her teachers had struggled to make her understand the figurative and that not everything the Bible said, it meant.

Now, of course, Marla understood metaphors and figurative prose and all that fancy stuff that allowed God's children to stray a little farther from the written word. She had learned her place.

It's not that she wanted to forsake all that she knew. It was just that it was different.

How was she supposed to walk into church and listen to sermons from a preacher who knew nothing of this world of magic?

That was where her faith struggled. None of the new stuff fit in with her old structures. The old rule book she had made to succeed in her spiritual life no longer applied.

It was like if she used her editing check list, which was usually used for investigative articles, for some literary work of complexity.

The check list worked great for articles. It kept Marla in line. She caught all the pesky grammar mistakes and tightened already concise sentences.

But, if she tried to use that same check list on the flowery prose of a classic 19th century novel, she would be drowning in misapplication. Punctuation would be willy-nilly, run-ons would dominate the page, and Marla wouldn't be able to edit any of it because supposedly this rule-breaking was what made works of great literary merit good.

That was what her life was like now. Her faith with her rulebook of rules and scriptures worked great for her in the "before" life. But, now it was at odds with this "after" life. It just didn't make sense anymore.

She didn't work well with things that didn't make sense. That were't logical. Formulaic standards and purple prose in tandem was as far from logic as faith and magic together was.

Oh! Faith and magic. That could be a column in the newsletter.

However, when Marla got caught up in these stress-inducing questions and struggles, she returned to the one thing she knew: this was a world with her parents and with Kendra.

In the end, did anything else matter?

──────

Warren Burgess was peculiar.

Marla's kids absolutely adored him. He was a great babysitter and kind and funny.

But, he was nothing like Dale. Marla would also never forget that he had smuggled her son into a dragon sanctuary. She was already sure she had received a heavily sanitized version of her childrens' escapades that excluded danger, death, and violence, but she still did not like how he had enabled that.

She kept her eye on him as he took his seat diagonally from her.

Stan had ceded his seat at the head of the table to Warren as it was his celebratory dinner. Dale, Stan, Ruth, Mom, Dad, Scott, Marla, Kendra, and Seth filled the rest of the seats. There was also a woman named Vanessa seated who was set to depart with Warren for this mission.

Vanessa was also a person Marla was sure had been glossed over. She knew very little of her yet she seemed to have played a huge role in the past years' events.

Learning information about her family's secrets was a little waltz where her relatives were afraid to tell her certain things for fear of her anger and she was afraid to voice her concerns for fear that they would withhold more information. It was a performance in which they held all the knowledge. But, it was also a dance she was willing to perform to keep her children and parents in her life.

So when Seth, with his mouth full of food, got to the climax of his story about meeting a relative named Patton, glanced her way, and stumbled on the next few details, Marla just kept her head down and smiled.

The dinner vote had ended up tipping in favor of lobster and Marla's hands soon got sticky with butter and lobster juices. But for once, she didn't mind the mess. Any of it.

She didn't mind the mess of this magic or of her new life or of her faith or of anything! She had her baby girl back in her arms. She had her son. She had her parents.

She didn't even mind the ruckus and bickering at the dinner table.

Pots and pans clanged. Seth yelled across the table for the salt, Warren threw it to him, and it hit the wall. Dale shared a story about Warren as a youth that led to raucous laughter and Warren's attempt to suffocate his older brother. Kendra threw in a one-liner and caught her Mom's eye to see her laughter. Marla's parents shared stories of Vanessa and Warren in the Knights of the Dawn, complete with dizzying stories of an ogre and a cruise ship disaster.

It was a dinner full of love, laughter, teasing, and sibling squabbles.

It certainly was not quiet.