Pip Kettlebrook stood before an empty field, clutching her aunt's letter in one hand and a weathered brass key in the other. According to the letter, she'd inherited an inn – but there was definitely no inn here. Just tall grass swaying in the autumn breeze.

"This has to be the right place," she muttered, checking the letter again. "'When you arrive, the inn will know.' Whatever that means, Aunt Maple."

A soft chime filled the air, like distant bells. The grass rippled, not with wind but with magic, and suddenly there it was: The Last Stop Inn, materializing as if it had always been there. Three stories of warm wooden walls, gabled windows that winked in the sunlight, and a front door with a crooked brass knocker that matched her key.

"Oh," Pip breathed. "Hello."

The door swung open before she could use the key. Inside, dust motes danced in sunbeams that shouldn't have been able to reach that angle. A massive stone figure – no, a golem – was arranging flowers in a vase with surprisingly delicate movements.

"You're late," the golem said without looking up. "Three years late, by my count."

"I was studying brewing magic in the capital," Pip explained, then realized she was defending herself to a golem. "I'm Pip Kettlebrook. Maple's niece?"

"Gus," the golem replied. "Maintenance and security. Lady Corvina handles the books. She's around here somewhere, probably dramatically narrating something to herself."

As if on cue, a elegant raven swooped down the stairs, transforming mid-flight into a tall woman in an impeccable black dress. "And so the young heir arrives at last, destiny calling her to—" She paused. "Oh, you're actually here. I've been practicing that entrance for weeks."

Before Pip could respond, a new voice called from outside. "Hello? Is there an inn here? I could have sworn this was an empty field a moment ago..."

Pip turned to see a young man with a lute strapped to his back standing in the doorway. He had the weathered look of a traveling bard and a confused smile that suggested he wasn't entirely sure he was awake.

"Welcome to The Last Stop Inn!" Pip said with more confidence than she felt. "I'm Pip, the new innkeeper. Please, come in."

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

"Felix Brightwood, wandering bard," he replied, stepping inside. "I must say, I've never seen an inn appear quite like that before."

"Yes, well," Pip glanced at Gus and Lady Corvina for help. They suddenly seemed very interested in their respective tasks. "We're a bit unusual. If you could just sign the guest book..."

Felix picked up the quill, not noticing the way it sparkled with an almost mischievous light. "Unusual is exactly what I'm looking for. I've been traveling the roads for years, collecting stories for songs, and—" He signed with a flourish.

The quill flared with golden light. Felix yelped, dropping it. A thin strand of light connected his signature to his chest for a moment before fading.

"Oh dear," Lady Corvina said, actually looking up from her ledger. "That's not supposed to happen."

"What's not supposed to happen?" Felix asked, his voice rising slightly.

Gus sighed. "Congratulations. You're now magically bound to the inn. Try not to wander more than a mile away, or it gets... uncomfortable."

"I'm what?"

"Bound to the inn," Lady Corvina repeated, already scribbling in a new ledger. "Oh, this will make a wonderful chapter: 'The Bard's Binding: A Cautionary Tale of Magical Contracts and Proper Penmanship.'"

Pip looked between her new staff members and her apparently now-permanent guest. This was not how she'd imagined her first day as an innkeeper.

A distant rumble of thunder broke the awkward silence. Outside the windows, the sunny day had been replaced by storm clouds.

"Does the weather usually change that quickly here?" Felix asked.

"The inn creates its own weather," Gus explained. "Matches the needs of travelers. Somewhere nearby, someone needs shelter from a storm."

"Which means," Pip realized, "we're about to have more guests. Right. Felix, I'll figure out how to unbind you later. For now, would you mind playing something welcoming? Lady Corvina, we'll need rooms prepared. Gus, could you check the roof for leaks? And I'll... try to remember everything Aunt Maple taught me about welcome magic."

As Felix began to play a cheerful tune, the inn seemed to hum in harmony. The floorboards creaked in rhythm, the flames in the fireplace danced in time, and even the dust motes swirled in musical patterns.

"Well," Felix said between verses, "if I had to be accidentally bound to an inn, at least it's an interesting one."

Pip took a deep breath, straightened her apron, and opened the front door just as the first raindrops began to fall. Time to be an innkeeper.

----------------------------------------

Guest Book Entry: "Felix Brightwood, wandering bard. Seeking stories, found something rather more permanent. The ink glows when I write – curious effect!"

Songbook Entry: First Verse of Felix's Inn Song: "In fields both here and nowhere, Where weary feet may roam, The Last Stop Inn appears to those In need of welcome home..."

Lady Corvina's Chronicle Entry: "Day One of the New Innkeeper's Tenure: Already we have achieved an unprecedented magical binding, suggesting either remarkable potential or remarkable chaos. Possibly both. Further observation required."