"Mrs Clelia Neumann!" waved a big girl in a delicate blue dress, just as Clelia exited from her home.

The fairy came to a halt, baffled by a stranger stopping her in the brief journey between her house and that of her neighbour.

"Oh, I'm so glad I finally managed to get your attention. I've been dying to meet you for a while now, but…"

"Can I help you?" Clelia hesitantly replied.

"I'm Giovanna, Mrs Giovanna Banco. You can call me Giovanna. In any case, this is for you."

She extended a little elegant envelope to Clelia.

"It's an invitation," she clarified with a cheerful smile, "to a little get together happening later this week. There will be the upper crust of the young women in this village, so it is quite an exclusive and intimate affair. I was hoping to give it to you yesterday morning at church, but I didn't see you at the function."

"Oh, my husband and I went to the city yesterday. And, in any case, I wouldn't have been able to participate even if we didn't." Clelia replied while examining the carefully written invitation letter.

"Why not?"

"I'm a fairy." She stated, as if that would suffice.

Seeing only bewilderment in her eyes, Clelia doubted herself for a second. "Aren't human churches considered sacred ground for your God?"

Giovanna's expression didn't seem any less confused. "Yes, they are."

"The faerie folk cannot encroach on your God's sacred ground," Clelia explained. "It's an ancient pact that exists between our foremothers and your God's prophet. I couldn't participate to a church function even if I wanted to."

"Oh. Well, our little get together will be at my home," Giovanna giggled with a wink, "so you won't have that excuse. I hope I see you there: the girls can't wait to be able to get to know you too, I'm sure of it."

Clelia was about to bow like she had done with her mother in law, but then remembered the woman's less than enthusiastic reaction and hesitated, still unsure of what human etiquette would require of her. "Um, thanks, I'll be there?"

Giovanna responded by gently bending her knees a little, holding her skirt with her hands in a peculiar way, while slightly bowing her head. "I'll hold you to it then. Have a nice day!"

The fairy didn't even try to imitate her, she only bowed her head. "You too."

As the big girl bounced away, Clelia found herself dreading the prospect of that invitation somewhat. She had been to "exclusive" and "intimate" events before and she had always found them boring. A part of her wanted Rosalba to be there too, just to have a familiar face, but she knew that probably was a pipe dream; after all, even among fairies, she hadn't exactly very often seen servants invited as guests. On the other hand, however, it could be a chance to learn more about human etiquette and their social standards, which would be useful, perhaps even necessary, to further her plans.

In any case, she had a few days before all that, now she had to focus on what was directly in front of her, specifically Madame Guillardine's door. She hovered her hand to knock, but the door opened before she had the chance to do it.

"Good morning, child," greeted the witch with a warm smile. "Do come in. We have a lot to discuss."

The house Clelia entered was very different from the one she had visited the other night. It was completely normal, almost identical to her own. Though, even in this version of Madame's house the shrine to the Lares was next to the entrance, and it still had the same grey beret propped on top of it.

"Madame, was the house I entered the other night a miniature realm of yours?"

The witch clapped her hands. "Your education in magic is top notch, as expected from a daughter of your gens."

Clelia whistled, impressed. "Remarkable work, I didn't even notice. I didn't know witches were capable of that."

"I'm a Masca," corrected Madame Guillardine. "I know it's a bit like if you met a cat and called it 'cat', only for it to respond 'I'm a short haired Norenian, thank you', but it is a distinction worth pointing out."

Fiddling with the frame of her glasses, Clelia asked, "Well, what's the difference?"

Madame raised a brow enigmatically. "I'm curious to see how complete your education really is. But first, just to make sure nothing is spying on us, allow me to create a change of scenery."

She touched the shrine and, suddenly, the both of them were on a dirt path in the middle of a forest.

"I'm not getting any younger," Madame explained, "and talking a walk is healthy, so I hope you won't mind."

Another realm. This one seemed both bigger and more complex than the last one. Clelia wondered if there would be animals inside too.

As if to answer that unspoken question, Madame explained, "This is nothing but a place where I can go when I feel like going outside, but don't want to have to deal with people. You and I will be its only inhabitants. Now, back to what we were saying before: do you know how human women become witches?"

As they started walking, Clelia tormented the temple of her glasses. "If I'm not mistaken, they have to forge a bond with some other entity that already has magic potential to become witches."

"Correct," the woman nodded. "When it comes to Masche, however, it is a little more peculiar than that. You see, a Masca cannot die of old age. We don't remain youthful forever, but we don't die to age and other natural causes. When one of us deems that she has lived long enough, she finds a pupil, and her pupil will forge a bond with her mentor quite like other witches would do with demons, spirits, or the gods of the land. Through that bond, the young Masca will gain the powers of her mentor, and her mentor will become capable of dying to old age again. One of the abilities that my mentor passed down to me, and that, modesty aside, I improved upon, was the ability to craft realms out of the dreamscape."

Clelia nodded, engrossed in the little lesson. "That's fascinating! By the way in which you talk about it, it seems like it's only passed down from woman to woman, quite like we fairies do, which I didn't think would be the case for humans."

Madame clicked her tongue. "Men who practice magic generally become wizards, you don't see them turning to us witches very often. Still, it is not unprecedented for there to be a man in our ranks. A male Masca is called a Mascone. The other reason why Masconi are very uncommon is that they cannot pass down their power, so when they decide to give up their immortality their powers become lost, their line of succession broken."

Madame Guillardine shifted her tone. "Now, for the reason why I invited you here today." She took, from inside of her petticoat, two small leather flasks. "I have an infusion, a little creation of mine, with ivy, nettles, and a few other things. It's quite invigorating and refreshing while on a hike. Do you want some?"

The fairy didn't feel like refusing, so she nodded and took the flask that was being handed to her.

"I have invited you here as a continuation of the discussion we were having the last time we met," declared Madame. "Even when it wasn't actively trying to destroy me, your mother's curse had been a thorn in my side for a very long time, so, since you gave me the opportunity to get rid of it once and for all, I feel grateful and I'd like to help you however I can in exchange."

Clelia caressed the bridge of her glasses. "Thank you, but I'm not sure what kind of help I could ask from you."

The Masca leaned towards her. "You're not asking, I'm offering. I can give you any information you need on human society, I can provide you the means to leave whenever you feel that you're ready, and, more importantly, I can teach you a lot about magic."

Clelia raised her chin and crossed her arms. "I'm a noble fairy, I don't need a human witch to teach me about magic."

The tapered hands of the witch joined together in front of her mouth. "When I rescued you from the Babau, I sensed your use of the 'tide'. I'm not going to belittle you for the fact that it didn't work: in stressful scenarios, sometimes even experts may flounder. But even from that failed attempt I could tell that your magical training is severely lacking in areas that, if I were to teach you, you could significantly improve."

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Madame then raised a brow. "Not to mention how strange it is, for a fully trained noble fairy, not to have a catalogue of spells ready to unleash on one measly demon. That is the whole point of your wands: they allow you to always have the entirety of your spell reserve at your disposal without having to physically carry them around on you. The fact that you even resorted to try the 'tide' instead of a spell suggests that you didn't have at the ready any spells to deal with that situation. That shouldn't happen, not without significant gaps in your magic training."

"With all due respect, Madame," snapped Clelia, "that is not your business."

The witch gave her an intense look. She struggled to withstand it, but ultimately succeeded. Eventually, Madame shrugged in an "as you wish" kind of way and turned her attention to the path ahead.

Madame carefully opened the flask in her hand. "How long until you think you'll leave?"

Clelia did the same. "I'll do it as soon as I'm ready."

The Masca's dark eyes hit her harder than a tidal wave. "If I were to provide you with everything you need, including a safe destination, any relevant information, supplies, and train tickets, would you be ready to leave tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Clelia scrambled. "That's… I don't know enough about human etiquette to just up and go somewhere else to live, and I can't enter faerie society either, so…"

"I know some people," Madame interrupted, "who would be more than happy to harbour you for however long you need. Witches, to be exact, so they're not part of regular human society, nor are they fairies. They'd understand your position and could teach you everything you need to live among humans. All the while, you'd be far away and hidden from your mother."

Clelia panicked, struggling to find a valid response, but stopped when she noticed Madame chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

"You're red from the tip of your nose all the way to your ears." The witch smugly took a sip. "If you raring to leave as soon as ready, like you said, then why are you trying to find an excuse to stay?"

Fuming, Clelia closed up the flask without drinking. She needed to calm down, then she'd find some reason to excuse herself and go back home. She still had some work to do to finish the camouflage spell she had been working on during the afternoon of the day prior, among other things.

"Now you're trying to find an excuse to leave from this realm and then my home, aren't you?"

Clelia's eyes snapped back to meet Madame's. How?

She took another sip. "I'm not reading your mind, I'm just sensing a pattern. I believe that your first instinct, when you encounter something that causes you discomfort, is to avoid it or run from it, if at all possible. I won't let you do that with me."

All the exasperation that the last exchange had caused in Clelia deflated completely at those words. She turned away and caressed the temple of her glasses, hiding her face from the woman walking besides her.

"Come on, child," continued Madame's warm voice. "If you want to stay here, at least for a while, there is no shame in that, no matter what the real reason is. I just want you to be honest. Honest with me, sure, but especially honest with yourself, which I don't think you're being."

"Well, I did make a friend…" Clelia massaged her shoulder, still looking away.

"The servant girl from the farms, yes? She's a fine young woman, I'm sure she would make a good friend too."

"You know her?"

Madame closed her flask again. "I keep company with older women than that, usually. It is generally assumed that, when growing up, people get wiser and more mature; in my experience, that is not completely true, as a group of old women is just as likely to engage in the same kind of gossip that a group of young girls is. Your friend is protagonist of very unflattering rumours, you know?"

Clelia's shoulders fell slightly down. "I suppose that makes a little sense, given her habit of stealing food from the village."

"Oh, sweet child," Madame chortled, "that is not what the village women are concerned about. They are a lot more bothered with her having… entertained several boys in the past."

Clelia's head snapped up. "What? In what way would that be a problem?"

"Well, what would you think your sisters would say of a faerie boy having had multiple girls despite his young age?" Madame's eyes felt so sharp that Clelia almost feared getting cut up from the inside if she kept looking at them.

"That's…"

"…Different? It's quite the same, considering that male faerie occupy in fairy society a role that, in many ways, is comparable to female humans in human society. In any case, I learned a long time ago to discern the truth lying beneath the gossip. The quality of the bad rumours around your friend convinced me that she's actually a good person, and that the village women and girls are just sore about losing to a boyish looking girl from a lower social class." Madame's smirk as she said the last sentence infected Clelia too.

Madame gently joined her hands together around the leather container she was holding. "While I'm sure that having a new friend is a real reason for your hesitation, there must be more than that. I sensed a certain level of desperation from you, leading to your idea of fleeing from your mother, and I think that, to offset that desperation, just one friend is no reason enough."

Clelia huffed. "What's with this interrogation? I thought you invited me to offer help, not to…"

"If you wish me to help, I need to understand you better." The witch interrupted again.

"That's rich," Clelia retorted, "considering how you…"

"…How I see through you with ease? That's a skill that comes with having met a lot of people. Another thing that I learned is that, sometimes, to help someone, it is necessary to make them uncomfortable. You get squeamish every time we're about to touch one of the areas in which you'd really need someone's help. Running away? I'm sure you would have that figured out already on your own by now, if that was really what you truly, deeply desired. But you're still here, and I'm willing to wager that you'd still be here a few weeks from now, perhaps even months, if left to your own devices. You are dilly-dallying. You're not taking your own objective seriously. You appreciated my offer for help, but I can't help you if what you truly want is different from what you told me you want."

After a long silence, Clelia sighed deeply. "Yesterday, when I learned truly how easy it would be for me to leave at any time, I felt… I resolved to leave my mother's castle more than a year ago, and the wedding gave me an opportunity to do so. Of course, if my mother agreed to marry one of her daughters to a human there must be some kind of ulterior motive, even if it's someone like… she doesn't do anything unless she sees a way to benefit from it in the long run. So, even if I don't know what she's planning, it's clear that staying here is not enough to escape from her grasp. I knew this from the very moment I learned there would be a wedding. That's why I wanted to get away from here."

Madame Guillardine encouraged her to go on with a gesture of her hand. "But…?"

The fairy sighed again. "But, since I came here, I've been… strangely happy. I've had a few bad moments, yes, but, overall, it's been liberating, invigorating. It's like I had been trapped in a web my whole life, and, suddenly, I found myself free. When I was faced with how easy it would be to just leave, I… didn't know how to feel about it."

The witch chuckled. "It seems to me that you'd like some more time to get used to this newfound freedom, to take a look at the world around you, before uprooting yourself again and go somewhere else. There is nothing wrong with that. Whenever you decide that you're actually ready to leave, if that time comes, know that my offer to give you a recommendation for a place to stay is still going to be valid."

Clelia felt as if someone had just opened a shackle around her neck that she didn't even know she had.

Madame opened her flask again. "By the way, it didn't escape my attention that you were about to say 'even if it's someone like me' when you were talking about your mother having ulterior motives behind the wedding deal. What exactly do you mean by that?"

The fairy timidly looked at her own feet. "I'm weak."

The witch, who was about to take a sip, stopped dead in her tracks. "Pardon?"

"I'm weak, alright?" Clelia snapped again. "The weakest fairy in my gens. That's why I don't have a huge reserve of spells: almost every time I try creating spells more complex than basic utilities I fail. There are no gaps in my magic education, I've been taught everything I need to know on spell-crafting, I'm just… I'm just not good enough."

Madame Guillardine nodded, absorbed. "Hmm. A noble fairy's spell-crafting has two steps: the craft and the enchantment. The craft is the act of creating something, usually a physical object, that stores the magic until it's time to release it; the enchantment is the act of bonding the object crafted with the magic of the crafter, giving it the shape that it will take when it needs to be released. Do you fail at the craft or at the enchantment, usually?"

The fairy tilted her head. Even though Madame had admitted having ties with the gens Saturna, Clelia was surprised by how intimately familiar she seemed to be with fairy magic.

"I… generally fail at enchanting. I'm pretty good at the crafting, if I do say so myself."

A strange smile appeared beneath Madame's dark eyes. "If that's the case, I believe I can help you."

"How? You think you know more about fairy magic than my teachers?"

After finishing the rest of the infusion in her flask, Madame chuckled to herself. "My mentor once told me something interesting about fairies, when entering the court of the gens Saturna. She told me that your kind's wealth of knowledge and mastery over your magic is like a castle, one that has been built on ancient foundations. She then said 'a pity that, busy as they are renovating the top floors and lofty towers each generation to make them grander and more splendid, they tend to forget to sometimes explore the groundwork the entire bloody thing was built upon in the first place'. Yes, that was her exact wording."

Clelia crossed her arms. "Did she make you explore that groundwork?"

The witch's shoulders were shaken by a loud cackle. "My stars did she. And for a very long time too. Long enough that, at some point, I remember starting to wonder if she'd ever teach me how to use any of that knowledge."

"What's the point, though?" sighed the fairy. "It doesn't matter how much I know about magic if I lack the strength to pull it off. I am well versed in the theory of magic, I know the technique, what I lack is raw power."

Madame Guillardine's eyes became serious, shining with primal resolve. "Another thing my mentor taught me. She told me that the constellations are the tapestry upon which we can read the threads of the Fates. However, reading individual destinies into them is generally a waste of time, especially because we often ascribe to them our wishes and fears, creating inaccurate prophecies from them. Then, as products of our wishes and fears, those prophecies end up feeding our worst instincts and keeping us down, time and time again leading to a self-fulfilled tragedy."

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I follow. What does that have anything to do with teaching me magic?"

"Child, your weakness is a lie. A comfortable lie that I'll eradicate, if you allow me to be your teacher."

Clelia felt her shoulders tensing up. Her first instinct was to thank Madame and refuse her offer. Before she could open her mouth to say that, however, she realised that, once again, she was only running away from something that made her feel uncomfortable. She recognised that, if she really wanted to live independently from her family, learning more magic would be an invaluable tool.

She took a deep breath, opened her flask, and declared, "I accept you as my teacher."

She finally took her first sip. It was bittersweet and stung both her tongue and palate, but, once she swallowed, she felt refreshed.