She awoke to find a thin trail of drool dangling from her mouth, the droplet threatening to descend onto the cozy blanket enveloping Cassandra in the chair of the sitting room. Across from her, Clare lay sound asleep on the couch, emitting thunderous snores beneath the covers. Confusion washed over her as she surveyed her surroundings, attempting to assemble the pieces of how she had ended up in the chair. Vague recollections of tending to Clare's injuries on the floor before succumbing to unconsciousness flickered in her mind.
"Oh cow puck, I feel like I've been struck by a truck," she muttered, massaging her forehead in an attempt to alleviate the pounding headache throbbing behind her eyes. The inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, beckoning her senses, and her gaze settled on a steaming cup of coffee resting on the coffee table beside her.
"I have no idea who continues to supply me with this divine elixir, but they are truly a lifesaver," she mumbled, taking a deep whiff before relishing in a satisfying sip. "Mmm, just the way I like it. They definitely have a good memory." She raised the cup in a silent toast to the room, acknowledging the mysterious benefactor.
As the lingering headache gradually subsided, a low growl emanated from her stomach, serving as a reminder that it had been at least a day, if not longer, since her last meal. Her gaze fell upon a glass-covered platter resting atop the table, adorned with an array of mouthwatering donuts and pastries. Leaning forward with anticipation, she reached for a cream-filled long john, savoring the delightful flavors as she took a generous bite, complemented by a sip of coffee. Settling back into the chair, a profound sense of contentment enveloped her, akin to the serene purr of a satisfied cat.
She closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself to fully immerse in the moment. However, her tranquility was abruptly interrupted as the urgent need to relieve herself became undeniable. Hastily placing the coffee cup down, she made her way to the bathroom, where she attended to her immediate needs.
An hour later, she emerged from the bathroom, towel-drying her hair. Despite her initial sense of urgency, she couldn't resist the temptation of a refreshing shower. Sandra had always battled a weak bladder during her upbringing, and Cassandra speculated that her new body might not yet be accustomed to the effects of coffee, hoping that it was merely a passing inconvenience rather than a health concern. While sitting on the toilet, Cassandra discreetly performed a minor healing spell on herself.
"Don't judge," she thought wryly. "How many people play games or read on their phones while sitting on the toilet? If I were to ask other mages, I'm pretty sure many of them would have practiced spells or read spellbooks during such moments."
Once again, her clothes appeared pristine and neatly folded as she emerged from the shower. The fleeting fear of someone plotting her demise dissipated, replaced by the realization that if her life were truly in danger, she would have met her demise on the very first day within the confines of this enigmatic house.
Clasping the warm cup of coffee in her hands, she stole a quick glance at the still-sleeping Clare before snatching a delectable cherry-filled pastry and making her way from the sitting room to the study. Pausing beside the study door, she delighted in the enticing fragrance of flowers wafting from vases delicately arranged on small tables flanking the entrance. With a determined resolve, she pressed forward, pushing open the door to reveal a captivating new carving—an enigmatic blindfolded magician wearing a top hat, immersed in the art of card-reading, tightly gripping the Ace of Diamonds.
Awe mingled with reverence as she contemplated the impressive accomplishments of her mentor. Each door throughout the house had been meticulously crafted by an old carver over the course of a decade, completing the projects shortly before his passing. In a heartfelt gesture, Cassandra's mentor had provided financial support to the carver's granddaughter, recognizing that the true worth of his work surpassed mere compensation. The old carver's name was John Ocello.
A warm smile graced Cassandra's lips as she fondly recalled her twenty-first birthday, a mere few weeks after she had joined the magic house as a puppeteer. The old man had bestowed upon her a meticulously hand-carved puppet, affectionately named King Leo, as a cherished gift. He had even imparted upon her the art of crafting her own puppets. Following his departure, the carver's granddaughter had entrusted Cassandra with all of her grandfather's cherished carving tools.
Taking a moment to appreciate the door's new carving, Cassandra's brow furrowed as she noticed the discrepancy from her last visit to the study. Her memory seemed foggy, but she shrugged it off with a shake of her head, proceeding to open the door. The enticing aromas of rich leather, aged books, and polished furniture beckoned her further into the study. To her right, a significant portion of the room was occupied by a wall closet, while a captivating painting depicting dogs engrossed in a lively game of poker adorned the opposite wall.
Connected to the study, the circular room extended as part of the grand library, originally designed to be a magnificent three-story space. In Cassandra's recollections, it had been teeming with towering bookshelves, housing a collection of volumes amassed over a century or more, filled with arcane knowledge, magical tricks, and captivating legends. However, as her gaze shifted towards the room, an eerie white mist obscured her view of the second floor of the tower. She sighed, reminiscing about the joy of perusing a book on rose cultivation or constructing a thrilling derby go-cart. Yet, the sight of the small staircase leading to the second floor, vanishing into the mist, sent an unexplained chill coursing down her spine.
Her attention was drawn to the majestic oak desk, an exquisite artifact brought over from Europe by the house's original owner, she glided gracefully toward it, her fingertips tracing the smooth surface with delicate reverence. The dragon-shaped dip pen holder and inkwell remained in their designated spots, a testament to the meticulous care given to their arrangement. Though the nameplate in front of the desk stood blank, its immaculate organization spoke volumes, free from any superfluous clutter.
A surge of pure joy welled up within her as her gaze landed on an old companion—the well-worn, leather-bound chair that had faithfully accompanied the desk through endless hours spent poring over the Magic House's intricate accounting books. Memories cascaded through her mind, tugging at her heartstrings, and a tear of nostalgia glistened in her eyes. Settling into the familiar chair, she eagerly explored the desk's drawers, unearthing stacks of paper nestled within the bottom two compartments—lined on one side, blank on the other. Her eyes widened with astonishment as she discovered a set of accounting books, revealing a staggering ten thousand silver deposit, equivalent to one hundred gold Crowns.
Delving deeper into the drawers, she unearthed an assortment of blank business cards, envelopes, paper clips, rubber bands, tacks, a dependable stapler, and an ample supply of staples. A hidden trove of office essentials revealed itself, inviting her excitement to bubble to the surface. Springing up from the chair, she turned her attention to a discreet panel on the wall, finding solace in the orderly arrangement of additional office supplies gracing the shelves behind it.
Casting a glance over her shoulder, her gaze fixed upon the magnificent portrait of the Magic House's enigmatic founder. The painting depicted Ichabod Croft, a visionary magician and the mastermind behind the construction of the house, with his firm grasp on a staff while a substantial floating book commanded attention. With his neatly trimmed white beard, Ichabod Croft's aged countenance bore a striking resemblance to a steadfast Santa Claus. Yet, this extraordinary magician had vanished without a trace over a century ago. Recalling the hidden safe concealed behind the painting, she gently trailed her fingertips along the intricate frame, revealing a discreet door that led to a nineteenth-century safe.
With deftness, she spun the dial to the numbers ingrained in her memory, and with a solid thunk, the safe door swung open, revealing a voluminous book that mirrored the one prominently featured in the painting.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
"Oh, my!" she breathed in utter awe.
Placing the weighty book upon the desk with a resounding thud, she attempted to pry it open, only to find its contents stubbornly resistant. Redirecting her focus to the safe, she retrieved a delicately rolled scroll, a weathered letter, and a meticulously carved wooden box adorned with intricate figures of men and women engaged in a vibrant banking scene. Realizing the box was securely locked, she gently placed it alongside the scroll on the desk. Her attention then shifted to an envelope, its delicate script addressed to her. With bated breath, she settled back into the chair, delicately tearing open the envelope, unveiling a letter adorned with the most exquisite handwriting she had ever beheld. Despite her lifelong endeavors to refine her own penmanship, this script exuded an unparalleled elegance and beauty, captivating her senses.
Dear Cassandra King,
I, Ichabod Croft, your great-grandfather, extend my heartfelt greetings to you. It is understandable that you may be experiencing a sense of confusion upon discovering the house, but I assure you that its existence predates our family lineage. Enclosed within this scroll is a contract that bestows ownership of the house upon you. However, our family's connection with the house bears a unique aspect. In each generation, a family member passes away, and their spirit is summoned to inhabit the body of someone who has departed from another world. This chosen vessel then assumes ownership of the house in that particular world. While I comprehend the bewildering nature of this revelation, it is a truth that transcends thousands of worlds and dimensions. Earth, indeed, is one of these realms, but your journey to that world awaits its appointed time. First and foremost, you must master the inner workings of the house and fulfill the tasks assigned to you. Only then shall you be ready to explore the other Houses.
Crucially, my granddaughter, you must understand that the house is built upon benevolent intentions and will not tolerate any malevolence. Should you or anyone harbor ill will towards the house, it shall respond accordingly. I implore you to affix your signature to the scroll, for by doing so, you will unlock more of the house's secrets, gain access to the grimoire that contains spells and deeds, and be empowered to embark upon your destined journey. The spells you shall learn are those deemed worthy of your unique abilities.
May the day come when we shall meet at my abode.
With paternal affection, Ichabod Croft
P.S. Forge loyal friendships, establish connections, and above all, steadfastly pursue the completion of the deeds entrusted to you!
Placing the letter gently on the desk, Cassandra's eyes lit up with anticipation as she unfurled the intricately crafted scroll, taking in the exquisite penmanship that adorned its surface. With each passing word, she realized that the scroll served not only as a deed of ownership for the house but also as a solemn agreement to undertake specific tasks that would unlock the hidden wonders within its walls. She understood that the completion of these deeds held the key to unveiling the house's boundless rooms and their accompanying rewards. Failure to fulfill these obligations would result in the loss of rooms and their corresponding treasures. The signing of the scroll would forever bind her soul to the ownership of the house, an honor, and responsibility she embraced wholeheartedly.
As Cassandra's gaze descended to the bottom of the page, her eyes alighted upon a small box adorned with a sticky note bearing the words, "Thumbprint in your blood is required." A moment of contemplation passed before she reached into the middle drawer of the desk, retrieving a delicate safety pin. With careful precision, she pricked her thumb, allowing a single drop of her blood to fall into the box. As she withdrew her hand, an ethereal transformation unfolded before her eyes—an intricate thumbprint materialized within the box, and a radiant glow suffused the entirety of the scroll, momentarily bathing the room in a celestial light. When her vision cleared, Cassandra blinked in astonishment, finding the scroll neatly rolled up on the desk, while the large book had mysteriously vanished.
"No, no, this can't be happening," Cassandra murmured, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and concern. Running her fingers through her disheveled hair, she surveyed the room, her eyes scanning the space. Amongst the familiar leather chairs, she noticed the presence of a few additional ones, along with a striking wooden globe occupying a standalone stand between them.
Suddenly, movement near the library caught Cassandra's attention—a mesmerizing display of swirling colors, radiant light, and mystical mist. Intrigued, she took a step towards it, only to have her hand inadvertently brush against the open box nearby. Startled, she directed her gaze toward the container, discovering a collection of gleaming gold, silver, and copper coins nestled within. Holding a gold coin from her pouch, she compared it to the golden Crowns within the box, finding them to be an exact match. Placing the gold Crowns gently on the desk, her focus returned to the enchanting spectacle unfolding before her eyes—a floating grimoire, adorned with the emblem of a magician's hat and wand, a symbol distinct from the pointed hats typically associated with wizards but rather reminiscent of the top hats donned by performers of magic tricks.
With a mix of caution and determination, Cassandra approached the floating book, circling it several times before finally coming to a stop in front of its leather-bound covers. The ornate depictions of a magician's hat and wand caught her attention, hinting at the arcane knowledge contained within its pages.
Summoning her courage, Cassandra rested her palm gently on the book, causing it to emit a soft, reassuring glow. After a momentary hesitation, she withdrew her hand, and the glow subsided. Casting a swift glance around the room, she steeled herself and firmly pressed her palm onto the book once more. Instantly, a vibrant blue-white light erupted from its pages, enveloping her form before gradually settling and coalescing within her chest, where her heart beat with newfound energy. The book responded to her touch, opening on its own accord and beckoning her to delve into its secrets.
As she leaned forward, a sigh of relief escaped her lips, and she began to read the words inscribed on the page before her.
"This is the Book of the Magic House, designating Cassandra Keep as the House Owner. Your title is that of duel Illusionist Magician and Puppeteer.
The house accommodates one resident, one guest, and one unseen servant, with a monthly cost of one Crown."
A quizzical expression crossed Cassandra's face as she glanced around the room. "Seems a bit steep, doesn't it?" she murmured to herself, momentarily lost in contemplation. Shaking off the thought, she continued reading, her eyes moving across the page.
"It appears that the Magic House is currently operating at one hundred percent occupancy," she remarked with a raised eyebrow. "Well, at least it's fully utilized." Turning the page, she discovered that the house allowance of approximately one hundred Crowns per month served to manage the house and cover various expenses.
"Twenty-eight stars earned and zero stars used," Cassandra read aloud, her mind pondering the significance of these celestial markers.
"The Magic House currently offers four available rooms: the Foyer, the Sitting Room, the Study, and the Library. Additionally, various add-ons are available, such as a bathroom, pastry service, and beverages in the Sitting Room."
Frowning slightly, Cassandra propped her chin on her hand, tapping her lips thoughtfully with her index finger as she delved deeper into the book. "Four Crowns per month for room maintenance? Well, that's something to keep in mind," she muttered, her brows furrowing in consideration. Rubbing her forehead, she swiftly flipped through a few pages until a detailed drawing of the Magic House's door caught her attention.
According to the book, the door's current location is within the City of Korda, tucked away in an alleyway off H Street, accessible through the back door of Jill's Rugs. Cassandra's eyes widened with realization. "So that's the door I used the key on to unlock the house. But how can I move the door?" The pages turned on their own, revealing an image of a magnificent globe.
Reading the accompanying description, Cassandra learned, "The globe is a tool used to change the door's location by moving the magnifying glass over the desired destination. You can use additional magnifying glasses to pinpoint doors that can be opened. However, you can only open doors that you have visited or seen."
As she prepared to approach the captivating globe, the pages of the book turned once again, capturing her attention.
Her eyes widened as she read the page's contents. "Warning! Special Deed Event! Would you like to proceed with the deed? The danger level is indicated as green." Confusion filled her voice as she continued, "What does danger level green mean?" Before she could finish her thought, a color-coded legend materialized beneath the deed.
Pursing her lips, Cassandra read aloud, "Gray indicates an easy task, while green signifies a moderate level of difficulty. Oh, great! Blue is harder, followed by Yellow. Red is extremely difficult, and Black is deemed impossible! Why can't they provide a simple percentage chance of success for the deed?" She glared at the book, a hint of frustration coloring her expression.
The words on the page shifted, revealing a fifty percent chance of success for the particular deed at hand. Cassandra's face softened, taking solace in the slim odds of failure. "Well, I suppose that's better than a hundred percent failure. Alright, what is the deed? Oh God, I'm conversing with a book now!" She smacked her forehead lightly, her eyes fixated on the ever-changing words.
"Save Jill, the owner of Jill's Rugs. She is bearing the consequences of your escape. You have one hour. The reward is one Star, along with an undisclosed bonus. Failure will result in Jill's demise." Cassandra straightened up, her horror-stricken face reflecting the gravity of the situation.
"Oh no! I can't let someone die just because I randomly chose a door!" A surge of determination coursed through her veins, propelling her into action.