It's early morning, the rosy sun is barely above the horizon, teasing a misty dawn. Today is the start of the journey to the kingdom. There are packed bags at the foot of your bed, and a traveling outfit on top of your dresser. Putting on these new clothes, you make sure to keep the serpent ring on your finger. For some strange reason it's comforting to rub its scales and to gaze into its ruby eyes. With your serpentine guardian equipped, you heave your traveling bags onto your shoulders and head down to the kitchen for breakfast.
   Emerson is already there as expected but you just have to know how he prepares everything so quickly.
"How on earth do you get everything ready so quickly? My bags, breakfast, your garden. Everything just looks so pristine all the time."
   Emerson laughs, "Good morning to you too. I could tell you but a warlock never reveals their secrets."
   You smile, "Are you afraid I'll spill your secrets? I don't even remember my own."
   Emerson hands you a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon "Fair enough. Do you remember how I said that I've only practiced my own magic? My magic is housekeeping magic. Gardening, sewing, cooking, cleaning, all are the focus of my magic. My garden never fails, dust never collects, everything I sew fits the wearer perfectly, my eggs never burn, and my bread is always baked perfectly. Sold my soul for that one. It even made packing your bags easier, no creases in your clothes and everything fits with room to spare."
   "Does this only apply to your inn, or every place you visit?"
   Emerson pauses a bit to think, "It works in all places but has stronger effects in places I've been in longer and have actually performed housework in. My inn will stay in good shape for months without me being here because I've lived here my entire life and because there are great amounts of residual magic energy. If I were to visit somewhere that I don't frequent, like the doctor's office, then their windows will look slightly cleaner when I leave or something similar to that effect."
   You hand Emerson your empty plate, "Speaking of doctors, when will Ophelia be joining us?"
   They place the plate into a sink filled with soapy water and almost immediately pull it back out. Upon emergence the plate is dry and spotless.
   "Ophelia might be coming over in half an hour or so, that's if her friends can't prepare her travel charm. She doesn't have housekeeping magic so it takes her a bit longer to prepare for these types of trips. I can only imagine how inconvenient it must be to struggle with packing bags and not even have the promise of smooth unwrinkled clothes. In the meantime, I'll prepare the horses. They'll be very excited to be going someplace new. While I'm doing that, could you walk to the blue house down the road and ask for Ms. Bluebell, she'll be running the inn while I'm gone and I would love for you to meet her."
   The Bluebells' home was indeed blue, and so was everything else. The flowers, the fence, the doors, everything. You walk up a blue pathway to the blue door and knock using the blue knocker. The door is opened by a petite woman who is unsurprisingly donned in a blue house dress.
   "Are you Ms. Bluebell?" you inquire.
   "Yes, I am. How may I help you?"
   "Emerson sent me over to meet you. They said that you will be taking care of the inn while we are gone."
   Ms. Bluebell's eyes light up, she enthusiastically invites you in and ushers you to the parlor. "Oh I'm so excited that Emerson gets to go on another adventure, they always come back with the most wonderful stories. You said that you were going with him, correct? Oh, how wonderful. An adventure with Emerson is always a wonderful experience. Would you like some tea?"
   No wonder Emerson wanted her to look after the inn, her hospitality rivals his own. You smile, "I would love some tea, Ms. Bluebell."
   As she goes to prepare the tea you actually get to notice what she looks like. You were so distracted by the blue everything that you could hardly focus on Ms. Bluebell. She looks like a porcelain doll, rosy cheeks, bright eyes, perfect hair. Everything about her is perfect.
   She returns with tea and as she pours you notice something. Her wrists are ball joints. Ms. Bluebell is a porcelain doll. You maintain your composure as best as possible. After all, you just met a witch so an animated doll isn't too outlandish.
   Ms. Bluebell is a perfect conversationalist as expected. She informs you of the history of the inn, her flower garden, the latest gossip. But more importantly, she tells you something about Ophelia.
   "You have met him right?"
   "No. Wait, who are we talking about?"
   "Ophelia's fiance, Ender."
   "No, I haven't. Was I supposed to?"
   "No but you will soon. He's a distant cousin of mine, or maybe he's an uncle, I can't quite remember, but if Ophelia is traveling with you, he is bound to come as well. They are inseparable, a perfect couple. Oh, would you look at the time! You should be going by now, Emerson likes to leave early for long trips. It was lovely chatting with you! Enjoy your journey. You will find your answers, I know it."
   You make your way back to the cottage where Emerson and Ophelia are waiting with a wagon loaded with supplies. Emerson hops on top of the wagon to make sure everything is secure.
   "We'll be stoping at Mr. Toad's house first to see if we can convince him to come. He has friends all over the kingdom and is a valuable traveling companion."
   "Where is he at? It's he one of your neighbors?"
   Emerson handed you the reins and pulled out a map. He unfolded and pointed to the bottom left corner. "Here is where the inn is. Mr. Toad is just on the village border, his house is marked by that mushroom. We should reach his house a little before noon."
   They fold the map back up and put it in their pocket. You hand the reins back and prepare for the ride to Mr. Toad's house.
Just as you arrive, a quick glance makes it quite obvious that a mushroom was the perfect way to mark Mr. Toad's house since the house itself was a giant mushroom. A picturesque toadstool right next to a fishing pond, what more could a person (or toad for that matter) want?
   Emerson parks the wagon and beams at you. "You should come inside and meet Mr. Toad, he is a dear friend of mine and I'm certain that you two will get along swimmingly."
   Well, who wouldn't want to go inside a giant mushroom and meet Mr. Toad? The inside of the mushroom was just as charming as you imagined. A red armchair and a matching loveseat flanked a sturdy coffee table in front of a fireplace , shelves set into the wall on the right held decorative plates and other trinkets, a bookshelf opposite that held a modest collection of tomes. And of course the piece de resistance, an oil painting of the Toad family matron right above the fireplace. Sitting in the aforementioned armchair is the one and only Mr. Toad.
  Emerson strides forward to greet him. "Ribbit ribbit, croak."
   Mr. Toad picks up a pipe and gives it a puff, "Croak, croak ribbit croak," he sets the pipe back down, "Ribbit Ribbit?"
   Emerson nods vigorously. "Ribbit, croak."
Mr. Toad hops out of the armchair and heads to the stair well tucked away in the back of the room. While he is gone you ask Emerson something that has been puzzling you.
   "Is Mr. Toad a frog? And were you just speaking frog, or was it toad?"
   "Hmm? A frog?" Emerson says absentmindedly as he plops down onto the loveseat, "Well biologically yes, but he married into the Toad family and took his wife's surname, as is tradition within Amphibian culture. I understand it may seem confusing but your surname doesn't have to match your species. I've met a human with the last name Crow and he wasn't a crow nor was his husband. And the only reason the Toads are the Toads is..."
   Before Emerson could start on the history of the Toads, Mr. Toad hops down the stairs with a rucksack over one shoulder and a fishing pole on the other. "Ribbit?"
  Emerson beams, "Of course, Mr. Toad. I'm ready whenever you are. Let's hit the road, but first we should stop by the Hedgehog General Store, I need a calendar."
After acquiring the calendar, your growing group is now ready to hit the road.
"Why do we need the calendar? Surely we won't be gone that long. You said a couple of weeks...or...something like that."
Emerson hands the reins of to you, hopefully you have muscle memory for steering a wagon.
"This isn't for the journey, although that could be useful. This is for that wretched field coming up." He starts marking the calendar with todays date as well as the groups names ages and the general goals of the trip.
You glance from the horses over to Emerson, trying your best to navigate the bumpy country road. "What's wrong with the field? It looks like a normal field, a bit overgrown but normal."
They set the calendar back, content with the annotations. "That field is no ordinary field, that is the testing field. All new magic users go to that field when they are learning to hone their powers. This means that the very nature of the area is all wrong. The sun sets and rises on a whim, seasons pass at the same time, the rocks are edible. Time means nothing and nature has been cast aside. It's good for training but even better for warning children about the consequences of irresponsible magic use."
He takes the reins back, their soft hands brushing yours for just a second. The sensation leaves the image of fresh linen painted in your mind's eye for a brief second. Must be an effect of their magic.
"I forgot to ask, where is Ophelia? I thought she would be joining us."
Mr. Toad croaks a response, which Emerson chuckles at.
"Yes, Mr. Toad, you are quite right. There is nothing that can separate two halves of a soul. Ophelia traveled separately, a friend of hers was able to make her a transportation charm to make sure she could spend some time with Lavender before we arrived. And no, Mr. Toad, we couldn't have used the charm because charms do have limits. Now into the field we go."
That field was a nightmare, everything was just as Emerson described. Nothing was ever right, the sun ran laps in sky, the moon was stationary on the horizon. Rocks were made of cake and rivers ran black with ink. If there was ever a hell, this was it. Any natural constant was dropped sideways, literally! The center of gravity was shifted every so often so it felt like trying to walk after spinning around for a minute.
The only hope to be found was the calendar Emerson bought and Mr. Toad's pocket watch to provide an anchor to reality. It's a wonder that you were all able to navigate through it without getting hopelessly lost.
   But you made it through safe and sound without any incident. With a new awareness of the magic in this world you got to thinking about yourself. Do you have magic? You would certainly know of you did, wouldn't you?
   You tap Emerson on the shoulder, "Can magic users sense magic in other people?"
   Emerson pauses before answering, "Not all, just one. That would be The Mistress, she is-how do I put this in a way you'd understand- her magic is that of knowing. She has the ability to know what needs to be known, almost like an oracle but they rely on catching strands or glimpses of knowing.
   It's very difficult to explain but in terms of sensing magic, she will know what magic a person has because our magic all comes from one source, ourselves as a collective. She can see the strands of magic that stick to a person, like a thumbprint stuck to a glass. All magic bearing children visit her so that she can see what kind of magic sticks to them. We should visit her when we get your amnesia figured out, I'm sure she love to know all about you."
   Something puzzles you though, if The Mistress has the power of knowing, then why don't we go to see her directly? Surely she would know what is going on with you.
   "Couldn't we just see her first? She could just tell us why I can't remember."
   Emerson gives a small sigh, "I wish we could but visiting The Mistress is such a rare occurrence, most only see her once in a lifetime and I don't want to waste your chance to see her on something that we can figure out on our own. If we can't find any answers in the palace library, then we may try seeking out The Mistress."
   That certainly gave you something to think about. And for the next few days you asked Emerson more questions, which they patiently answered. Questions about magic, the people and creatures of the land, and about the Clay Village.
   The landscape has shifted from pastoral glens to a terrain without a single piece of flat earth. The road seemed to carved out of sandstone, a rock shelf always on one side or the other. As you crest a hill, you see it. The Clay Village.