Mr Arthur Rowan, of number fifty-four Circle Grove, seemed like a normal grandfather going about his business in a normal way, yet nothing could’ve been further from the truth. Arthur Rowan looked average, not tall or thin, not short or thick, with a beard that grew a light shade of gray. Behind his glasses his blue eyes revealed both kindness and gravity.

   That morning, Arthur stood in his library, scanning the titles of the many books stacked across the shelves.

   “You shouldn’t be there,” Arthur said to the book as he pulled it from one of the shelves, and searched for its proper place. “For every minute spent in organizing is an hour earned,” he said. “Good one, Benny. I quite agree,” and he replaced the book with a practiced slide onto its shelf.

   Arthur was quite good at many things, and books was one of them. He loved everything about them, and spent many hours at home reading, studying, writing, and binding books. He grabbed a random book off the shelf and headed to the kitchen to fix himself a pot of tea.

   His old house had, as a matter of course, many old doors. But in his library, somewhere between the bookshelves, there was a different kind of old door. It was a magical door, invisible to ordinary humans—a portal to another world. Arthur had known about the portal his entire life, yet not even he knew which had come first, the portal or the house.

   What you may not know is such portals to other realms are quite common. But to Arthur, this one was special, for it led directly back to his home—the fairy world of Noominia.

   In the kitchen, the water began to heat up and Arthur sat in a chair and examined the book he had in his hands.

   “‘An Earth Elemental’s Guide To Butterfly Migration, by Mabel Monarch.’ Sounds like a page-turner,” Arthur said to himself.

   He carefully opened the cover revealing an intricate butterfly illustrated in bright colours on the title page. He flipped a few pages and read aloud—

   “Be sure to raise the temperature of the air to thirteen degrees celsius, or fifty-five-point-five degrees fahrenheit, before waking the butterflies for their first migration north . . . . Huh,” Arthur looked up as the tea water began to boil, “that is good to know!”

   Noominia was originally a realm of light, populated by elves like Arthur, but also fairies, dwarves, giants, mermaids and other fairy folk. And as much as it sounds like a beautiful place, untouched by the darkness of the shadows, over time the light was corrupted. Nowadays, travellers and citizens alike are advised to avoid the mountainous region of Noominia called the North Ridge.

   Throughout his long life, Arthur had used the portal many times. His first memory of this oldest door was when he was a child:

   As he played in the library, Arthur suddenly froze in awe; a unicorn wandered through the portal and into his library. It froze in place when he spotted it, then it dashed behind the curtains and out of sight. He tried to tell his mother, but he was so young he had difficulty forming the words to explain what he saw.

   This was such an impossible thing to see, even for a Noominian, no one dared to believe him—not even his parents who were descended from elven nobility. Unicorns are considered the most holy creature by Noominians—their most often-told story is of the first unicorn who saved their world from a light-devouring shadow dragon. And ever since, Noominians worshipped unicorns as the protectors of light and truth, even though it has been thousands of years since a unicorn has been seen in Noominia.

   During the week, Arthur worked in a small antique book shop. One of his passions was collecting and studying old, musty books—especially magic books—that held and unlocked the secrets of the universe. And in his own private collection, in his own private library which nestled cozily into the back of the house at fifty-four Circle Grove, you could only imagine all of the odd and powerful books which filled the shelves.

   Arthur replaced the butterfly book into its proper place in the library, and sat on the couch, placing his cup of ginger tea on a coaster on the coffee table. He reached down to a lower shelf and unlocked it. From the locked shelf Arthur pulled a very special magical book called the Trismegistus. In more official and admittedly more boring circles, it was known by its proper title, The Chronicles and Prophecies of Noominia.

   This magic book inscribed the history of times past, and revealed mysterious prophecies of the future to come, telling the reader all that has ever happened in Noominia, and all that would ever be. Arthur knew the whereabouts of two such books in existence—his book, the Trismegistus, and the second, named the Atriumbravis, which had been lost to the shadows for centuries, a fact which bothered Arthur greatly. He firmly believed a book of such rare power should always be kept safe, and in the proper hands.

   Not just anyone can handle the responsibility of knowing what the future brings. But Arthur, an elf of noble blood who had studied both the elven and fairy magics all his life, proved himself worthy. One day, when Arthur was still a young elven wizard, the book chose him to be its owner, to study its contents, and to use its power to protect Noominia.

   Many fairy moons ago, when Arthur was young, the Trismegistus told him that something terrible would happen. Because of this forewarning, and his considerable courage and skill, he was able to rescue a young fairy-girl named Aina from the grasps of Gmob, a hill giant from the untamed eastern lands.

Gmob and his unruly brothers raided Aina’s village, and killed anyone who got in their way. Aina's family stood bravely against the hill giants, while she, the youngest in her family, hid under her bed the best she could. Eventually she was found, and Gmob took Aina, sparing her life to keep as a trophy.

   What Arthur had not realized was that this young fairy-girl was a princess, destined to one day become Queen of the Fairies. And so, in learning this, Arthur adopted Aina and raised her as his own daughter until she was able to take her rightful place as the fairy queen.

   Throughout Aina’s youth, without the presence of a fairy queen to bring balance to Noominia, the shadow magic grew in power, smouldering beneath the frozen mountains of the North Ridge. Those who opposed the Noominian councils of light sought the destruction of the young fairy queen and anyone who followed her.

   Planning with the practicality typical of elves, Arthur’s family had kept a home in the realm of humans for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years. It was the easiest way to escape any trouble from the North Ridge, or the eastern hills, for that matter. And so, Arthur inherited the old doors of number fifty-four Circle Grove. It was here he took Aina when she first escaped her fate with the hill giants. And it was here Arthur had brought Aina six months ago, with her elven husband, Silas Meridian, so they could await the coming of their new baby in safety.

   On a joyous day in September, Arthur had celebrated becoming a grandfather when Aina had given birth to a baby girl named Vesper. Just thinking of Vesper made Arthur’s heart feel like it would burst from his chest from too much love, the way only a grandparent can feel for their grandchild. Being the daughter of the fairy queen, Vesper was destined to lead the Noominian people one day, as her mother did now.

   Arthur thought of baby Vesper and her future, and wondered when he might discover a new prophecy about her in the Trismegistus—when would the writings mysteriously appear, spelling out her name, and spinning her destiny?

As was Arthur’s practise, he opened his magic book of prophecies and read, speaking the words aloud to himself, and then listening carefully to the whispers that filled the room. Arthur had studied every page of the Trismegistus, memorizing the chronicles of Noominian history and searching for meaning in its prophecies.

   His quiet morning of study would soon end, and life would never be the same for Arthur, or his family.

Just then, the portal in the library opened, and through it stepped the muddy boots of Silas Meridian.