The bottom of the house was deep, dark, and cold. Kaitlyn lay still for a long time when she landed. The sensation of falling had lasted long enough for her mind to accept inevitable death. When she realized there was something solid under her spine, for a long moment her mind would not accept her own survival.

Hurting to breathe convinced her she was still alive. Probably alive. She clutched to her chest her right hand, the ring slipped onto her finger but not all the way to the bottom of her knuckles. She lay panting. She couldn’t feel cuts on her skin from the thorn-like magic. She couldn’t see or sense any threads.

There was a presence down here. It wasn’t oppressive, but it was large and heavy. Kaitlyn lay on the floor, just letting herself breathe and trying to figure out how she was going to get out of here.

Put on the ring.

She held the ring up to try to look at it, but she couldn’t see anything. She tried to conjure her flame to see it, but when she tugged on her magic she found herself empty. She had never been empty before. She had been tired or mentally worn out. Her magic had never been empty before. Master Garthis had warned her of this a long time ago. Pushing now could kill her. She could easily kill herself. Trying to weave a spell now was a good way to lose control of the magic.

Put on the ring.

The floor wasn’t dirt, maybe it was some kind of stone. Kaitlyn slowly sat up and tried to look around where she was. It was totally dark. There did not seem to be any difference between her eyes being open or closed. She tried several times to experience the effect, or the lack of effect. It was oddly fascinating to experience such total darkness.

Put on the ring.

This time she used her hands to feel the ring. It was a fairly simple band with a gem she knew was an emerald. Around the emerald were stylized symbols. She couldn’t see them, but by feel she could tell one was a letter in fae. Master Garthis had taught her a word or two of that language which were usually warnings. Their words tended to present as symbols, an entire word or concept presented by a single character. This character was one she knew, “Danger.”

Put on the ring.

The cold was seeping into her bones, so she carefully stood. She didn’t feel any walls around her as far as she could reach and she wouldn’t just wander around when she couldn’t see anything. She held the ring and slid her left foot forward, making sure both that there was a floor and no hole and that there was not an obvious wall she would run into. She moved forward slowly, sliding one foot forward at a time, feeling her way. She began to shiver.

Put on the ring.

Kaitlyn’s stomach growled. How long had she been here? What was happening to Fapallo, Javorora, and Cilvic? Had they called Master Garthis? She tried calling out to them, “Fapallo? Fapallo! Help me Fapallo!”

Put on the ring.

“Master Garthis! I need your help, I’m lost!” She almost screamed.

Put on the ring.

“No!” she yelled into the darkness.

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Put on the ring.

Kaitlyn fingered the ring. She was afraid of it. She had to admit it that she was afraid to put on the ring. She leaned down and put it on the ground. She shook violently, her hand hovering over it with a near-compulsion to hold onto the ring.

Put. On. The. Ring.

“No.”

Kaitlyn whispered the word this time. She slowly lifted her hand and stepped back, away from where she put it. She spoke into the darkness, “I don’t want to control this house. I don’t want to be a witch. I have to be a witch.”

She took a deep breath as the temperature in the room dropped again. She felt certain if she could see, she would see her breath in front of her mouth. She rubbed her arms, feeling a fear that was both from inside herself and all around her.

Please.

“You don’t need a witch,” Kaitlyn whispered, beginning to shiver. “You don’t have to be a witch’s hut.”

A loneliness she had felt before bombarded her. Decades of loneliness. Centuries of fear and hope, longing and hate. Threaded throughout all of this was a longing and loneliness. Kaitlyn wondered if the house was alive after all this time. Master Garthis had said so many times it was impossible, even the most advanced golems were never completely sentient and alive. They followed a set of rules determined by the spells that created them.

Kaitlyn understood that loneliness to a depth she hardly wanted to acknowledge. When she had lived at home she sometimes felt that loneliness even when her family was all present. They didn’t understand her then. They could no longer understand her now. How would they feel about a daughter who was friends with a dryad, werewolves, elves and dragons? How could she ever feel like she belonged anywhere ever again?

It wasn’t fair. Even Javorora knew there were other dryads in the world. The elves and satyrs lived in communities with their own kind. Kaitlyn didn’t have her own kind. She was forever alone in her solitude. Like this house, alone because there was no other like her.

Put on the ring.

The spells that created a thing governed it. Kaitlyn knelt on the ground and scrambled forward until her hand touched the ring. For a moment the compulsion almost won.

Put on the ring.

If she put on this ring, this hut would be hers. She could make it into anything she wanted, things she had seen when she delved deep into its magical workings. A palace. A sorceress’s perfect place to perfect her magic. Tapping into the roots of magic in the very world to do her bidding.

It was tempting. If she was powerful enough she could go home and help her family. She could make sure they never suffered again. She could help her brothers become lords or even princes. There was a reason tales spoke of young men rising to marry a princess. Magic could open those doors.

Put on the ring.

Again she felt the symbols on it, squeezing her eyes closed tightly as she concentrated on her sense of touch. She pressed the ring into the soft flesh of her forearm to try a different approach. The second symbol was either something she didn’t know or “branch.” A dangerous branch? A branch of danger?

Put on the ring.

Put. On. The. Ring.

PUT ON THE RING.

She put the ring in her mouth, using her tongue to feel the next symbol. It didn’t help and the dust and metal taste off the ring made her gag a little. She shivered, desperately trying to ignore the plea. The demand. The longing.

She sat down and using her left thumb she mimicked the symbol with her right finger on the floor, trying to envision the symbol as she drew it. She gasped as she realized it was “witch.”

Put on the ring.

The fourth symbol completely eluded her. She had no idea what it might be, even when she was confident she had figured out what it might look like. It wasn’t a symbol she had been taught. She expected it was important, but she didn’t have time to figure it out. She would have to guess.

Trying to build a spell was a stupid idea. She knew this was dangerous, but she also knew that her lack of shivering any more was just as dangerous. Her hunger and thirst were dangerous. How long had she been in this darkness?

She carefully used threads of magic, the smallest threads she could control. This was not like anything Master Garthis had really taught her, but she used elements of the flame spell to soften the metal while at the same time she used the plant spell which allowed her to direct growth. She concentrated the way she did when working with clay. She turned fae symbols into simple words.

Welcome. Protect. Travel. Grow.

Kaitlyn put on the ring.