EVERYTHING on here is copyrighted to me, Grace K-Chan.  Characters, plot, everything.  You steal it and I'll send my uncle after you.  ^_^  Thankie.

Anyway!  This is a longer summary of the story to spark you on to want to find out more:

Caya feels like she is the only mage in the world.  She hates the fact that she can do magic and not tell anyone.

All she wants is to go on a real fantasy quest just like the famous Merlin did.

One day Caya merely plays a game and pretends to do this, and ends up getting lost in a Scottish forest.  She discovers a magical world full of mages...only one problem. 

They're all elves.

Chapter One

Yet another visit from Mr. Trucklefield

"I don't care if the dishes aren't dirty; I want you to make them dirty!  Use your common sense, Caya!"

"Yes, momma..."

Caya's voice growled out into the open.  The tall girl was sitting on a wooden chair with a piece of paper in her mouth.  Her short, fluffy white hair poofed out like a bob at her chin.  In her dark hand she held a long stick, about four inches thick.  Caya was repeatedly tapping it on the table, just to spite her old mother.

"CAYA!"

"Aye?"

"Aren't you going to practice?"

Caya sighed, turning towards her mother.  "Momma, please!  It's pointless, isn't it?  I mean, why can't I just get them dirty with the mud outside?"

The pudgy woman before her pouted her wrinkly lip.  She crossed her saggy-skinned arms and frowned, cocking her head.  "Because it's good to practice your magic, young lady.  You know that."

Shrugging her mother's words off, Caya stood from her seat and put her staff aside her.  She wasn't in the mood for yet another magic lecture...it just wasn't right.  Though Caya's mother was a mage, and her brother was a mage, and so was her younger sister—she somehow found it extremely annoying because every white mage had to keep their abilities a secret from the outside world.  And living inside Caya's world was the most difficult thing any fifteen year old could imagine.

Caya walked over to the kitchen sink while her mother left.  It stood so low, the sink only coming to the top of her thighs.  This was because her younger sister, Magiel, was just learning basic spells of cleaning.  So, Caya's mother, whom everyone called Mrs. Samecke, had their kitchen remodeled to fit Magiel's height.  Magiel resembled her older sister very well—short silverish hair, and the most boring colored eyes.  Hazel.

Sigh.  Deep breath.  Sigh again.

Caya had her staff firmly gripped in her hand and lifted it above her head.  She was about to tell it what to do when a strange noise filled the room.

"Gish glomp glomp!  Huga phomp phomp!!!"

"Oh," Caya groaned.  It was their so called 'doorbell' that made that noise.  Their house was so filled with obscenities of enchantment, it would be unfair to most people, she imagined.  Caya threw her staff behind their refrigerator and quickly tore her rune stone necklaces from her tanned neck.  She ran out of the kitchen, almost forgetting the two foot drop of stairs to the living room.

"MOMMA!  Someone's at the door!"  Caya called.

There was a hissing shriek that carried across their long home.  Mrs. Samecke ran like a motorboat, her little legs popping out from under her long, black skirt.  The woman danced around the room, gathering all objects that would pass as something out of a fantasy novel.

"OH MY GOD!  QUICK, Caya!  Get—the—staffs—and everything that might look suspicious!"

Caya nodded and quickly began pushing books, papers and crystals under bookshelves, boxes and chairs.  But then—it happened.  The door opened.

Caya gasped and nearly fell to the floor.  A tall man with a black suit stepped onto their mat.  He had broad shoulders and an arrogant, cruel air about him.  His top hat was crisp and smooth without a single trace of dust.  In his gloved hand he held a book with a list of names.

Caya knew at once who this was.  It was the man that came to inspect their house every month—to see if it was still entitled and qualified to be plopped right in the middle of a forest.  He was mean, cruel, and harsh.  He always walked around with a bit of a slouch—even though the man wasn't even in his early thirties.  His name was Mr. Trucklefield.  He seemed to have a disliking for Mrs. Samecke, even though she tried her best to please him every time he visited their barn.

Caya's family didn't like to live near "normal" people.  So, instead, her magical family had inherited an old barn smack-dab in the middle of the Scottish forest she…hated…so…much.

"H-hello, Mr. Trucklefield," Caya stammered, her face filling up with heat.  This man was one of the most serious of men in the world.  Plus, it most definitely didn't help that sometimes Caya thought he was suspicious about her and her family's—ahem—most artistic talents.

"Charmed, I'm sure," The man snapped gruffly, "I'm here to see your damned mother.  Where is she?"

"Right here, Mr. Trucklefield!"  Mrs. Samecke smiled.  She came in all ditzy-like—frizzy hair sticking out in every direction, her skirt covered in soot.

Noticing that Mr. Trucklefield was staring in distaste at her, Mrs. Samecke coughed.

"Now, now, now, Mr. Trucklefield—don't judge a book by its cover!" Mrs. Samecke cried.

"It's easy to, especially at this location and house," sneered Mr. Trucklefield.

Caya sat still on the floor and continued to watch the man who was inspecting their house.  'Oh, please, please don't take our house away!' Caya cried out in her mind.  'If only momma would move into the city…we have plenty of money!  Mom is just so superstitious...we have to do everything our so called 'ancestors' did…'

Her thoughts were interrupted with a low hiss from Mr. Trucklefield.

"And sssooo…you've lived here for how long again?"

"Forty—"

"Days," Caya interrupted.  She gulped as her mother snapped her eyes at hers, giving her one of those looks.  Oh well.  She saved her mother from embarrassing herself.

'God knows what would have happened if she had said forty years,' Caya thought.

"Forty days, you say?  Well, that's quite a short time.  And…tell me…why don't you have a mailbox outside?"

Mrs. Samecke was smiling so hard it looked like her cheeks might tear.  "Because, my oh-great some- Mr. Trucklefield, we…go to the post office!  Yes, the post office.  We have a special account there."

"I see," said Mr. Trucklefield, not paying attention at all.  He scribbled some incoherent words on a piece of note paper before looking their lounge room over.

"We've not had a chance to clean up, as you can see—but, nonetheless, it's very homey and should be allowed to stay."

Mr. Trucklefield walked up the stairs into their kitchen.  Caya tentatively got up and followed him, trotting right behind her mother.

Mr. Trucklefield stopped at the kitchen sink.  He sneered and slitted his eyes with an irritated look.  "And I've also gotten reports from the water company that you don't have running water."

Mrs. Samecke didn't seem to have an answer for this one.  Her poor, old fragile mind was racing as anyone could tell.  "Well—I, uh—"

"I think what mah mother means is that we gots our own well," came a deep, almost redneck voice from behind the three of them.

Caya turned around and smiled in relief.  Her older brother, Lucas, stood proudly against the arched wall that led as an entrance to their dining area.  He was a tall and sturdy boy—even taller than Mr. Trucklefield.  He had a shaved head and a long nose—also high cheekbones and large teeth.  He wore a t-shirt and baggy jeans.

"And also, if you're wondering why we have candles everywhere, instead of electricity, it's because my younger sister adores aroma.  Oh!  And in cause you're also wondering why we don't attend public school, it's because we are especially home schooled."

That they did. 

Caya gave her brother a big, toothy grin.  Lucas was a sharp young man to think of things so quickly…though he was QUITE an airhead most of the time, during his private life.

Mr. Trucklefield however, still did not look pleased.  His ugly wrinkles sloped down his forehead as he left the kitchen room and trudged into Mrs. Samecke's room.  Her door was made up of beads—all different colors and stones.

As the four of them entered, Mr. Trucklefield gave a huge roar of laughter.  He immediately walked out of the room and pointed at a horrified, embarrassed Mrs. Samecke.

"This is what you call cleaning?  Good God, Mrs. Samecke.  When you called yesterday to tell us that you still were adequate of living in a barn in the middle of nowhere, you said you thought you were qualified to be legal. I don't think so! You DON'T pay your taxes, do the school taxes, or anything.  SO, guess what?  You're not.  This is clearly—a—a—HAHAHA!!!"

Caya winced.  She glanced inside her mother's room and clapped her hand over her mouth.  'Momma's room looks like it's been hit by a tornado…poor momma.  She must have used the wind spell last night and forgot to turn it off.'

Mrs. Samecke was nearly in tears.  "Oh, MR. Trucklefield, please, please give us one more chance!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Samecke.  I'm afraid not.  You have three more months to live here.  Then I expect you to go out.  Now then—GOODBYE!  WAHAHAHA!"

The laughing man tore through the house and slammed the door behind him as he left.  Papers flew off of the walls and the whole barn shuddered.

"Oooooh!"

Mrs. Samecke began wailing—screaming really—and threw herself onto her bed.

"Mamma, it's okay," Lucas soothed.

Caya half-smiled.  She really wasn't in a happy, comforting mood today, so her words rushed out.  "Don't worry.  I'm sure we'll have another—"

"CHANCE!?  Yes, Caya, we will, but—but oh, this next inspector will probably be even worse."

Caya nodded.  "I know…"

Caya and Lucas tried to think of something to say to help their mother out.  Right before Caya asked if she could dirty the dishes, a bouncy, curly haired Magiel came squealing into the room.

"Momma!  Guess what!  I just turned Lucas' kitty into a bird!"

"YOU WHAT?" Lucas gaped.

This brought laughter into Mrs. Samecke's eyes.  "Oh, that's wonderful, Magiel.  Let mommy come see."

Mrs. Samecke then trotted out of the room and walked into the hole-like small one that Magiel stayed in.  Lucas glanced at his sister and shrugged.

"Mom has multiple personalities," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, she does.  But of course, if I was a thousand year old witch, I would too," Caya snorted.

"Yeah, well, we're both getting there!"  Lucas laughed, ruffling Caya's thin hair.

Caya, however, just grumbled.  "Yeah, yeah, yeah….shut up."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, after poor Mrs. Samecke had finished with her crying, the small family sat down for supper.  They had roast beef with a strange honey glaze Lucas had invented while trying to produce a sticky spell to catch bugs.  They ate quietly, never mentioning the rude Mr. Trucklefield.

After cleaning up, Mrs. Samecke sent Magiel to bed to read to her.  Lucas and Caya were in their beds, backs turned to each other.

"That was the seventh time Mr. Trucklefield's tried to take our home away," Caya huffed.  "Stupid government people."

Lucas was engrossed in his art he was drawing on a little notepad.

"Mm," he said.

Caya sighed and leaned up against the wall.

"Doesn't bother you?" Caya droned.

"Course it do.  We could lose our home, for cryin' out loud!"

Caya blinked her short eyelashes. 

"Yeah...but, you know--lately I've been angry."

"Oh?  'Bout what?"

Caya shrugged.

"This life.  This life that you, I, and Magiel have leading."

This caught Lucas' attention.  He stopped shading the head on his figure and turned to look at Caya.

"So...?  What 'bout it?"

"Doesn't it ever just make you furious at the fact that--this stupid magic wizardry thing--we'd be cursed if we told anyone?  You know, "Normal" people?"

Lucas thought for a moment.

"Yeppers.  Never makes me ticky or angry...I love magic.  I've been learning from mom these past three years."

Caya sighed again and plopped down onto her pillow, smothering her face with it.

"Well, I hate it.  I hate doing magic because it never works right, the words sound weird, and we're the ONLY mage family in the world!"

Lucas snorted, "Well, it...erm, uh, makes us done right special?"

The younger girl pulled the pillow away from her face and placed it under her chest, folding her arms around it.  She looked out the window by Lucas' bedside and mumbled, "I suppose.  I don't know.  There's like a fire inside me that keeps making me more and more frustrated at the subject.  I feel like a conformist."