What?

I can't explain. But I can show you.

Good as the lake?

Not quite. Hurry up.

Putting a towel over his shoulders, Seth stepped into his sandals. Kendra led him away from the pool through the garden to some flowering shrubs on the outskirts of the yard. Behind the plants lay a large pie tin full of milk where a crowd of hummingbirds were feeding.

They drink milk? he asked.

Yeah, but that isn't the point. Taste it.

Why?

You'll see.

Have you tried it?

Yes.

What's the big deal?

I told you, try it and you'll see.

Kendra watched curiously as he kneeled by the tin. The hummingbirds dispersed. Seth dipped a finger into the milk and put it on his tongue. Pretty good. Sweet.

Sweet?

He lowered his head and puckered his lips against the surface of the milk. Pulling back, he wiped his mouth.

Yeah, sweet and creamy. A little warm, though. Looking beyond Kendra, his eyes bulged. Seth jumped to his feet, screaming and pointing. What the heck are those?

Kendra turned. All she saw was a butterfly and a couple of hummingbirds. She looked back at Seth. He was turning in circles, eyes darting around the garden, apparently perplexed and amazed.

They're everywhere, he said in awe.

What are?

Look around. The fairies.

Kendra stared at her brother. Could the milk have totally fried his brain? Or was he messing around with her?

He didn't appear to be faking. He was over by a rosebush gazing at a butterfly in wonder. Tentatively he reached a hand toward it, but it fluttered out of reach.

He turned back to Kendra. Was it the milk? This is way cooler than the lake! His excitement seemed genuine.

Kendra eyed the tin of milk. Drink the milk. If Seth was playing a prank, his acting skills had suddenly improved tenfold. She dipped a finger and put it in her mouth. Seth was right. It was sweet and warm. For an instant the sun gleamed in her eyes, making her blink.

She glanced back at her brother, who was creeping up on a small group of hovering fairies. Three had wings like butterflies, one like a dragonfly. She could not suppress a shriek at the impossible sight.

Kendra looked back at the milk. A fairy with hummingbird wings was drinking from her cupped hand. Other than the wings, the fairy looked like a slender woman not quite two inches tall. She wore a glittering turquoise slip and had long, dark hair. When Kendra leaned closer, the fairy zipped away.

There was no way she was really seeing this, right?

There had to be an explanation. But the fairies were everywhere, near and far, shimmering in vivid colors. How could she deny what was before her eyes?

As Kendra continued to survey the garden, startled disbelief melted into wonder. Fairies of all conceivable varieties flitted about, exploring blossoms, gliding on the breeze, and acrobatically avoiding her brother.

Roaming the pathways of the garden in a daze, Kendra saw that the fairy women appeared to represent all nationalities.

Some looked Asian, some Indian, some African, some European. Several were less comparable to mortal women, with blue skin or emerald green hair. A few had antennae. Their wings came in all varieties, mostly patterned after butterflies, but much more elegantly shaped and radiantly colored. All the fairies gleamed brilliantly, outshining the flowers of the garden like the sun outshines the moon.

Rounding a corner on a pathway, Kendra stopped short.

There stood Grandpa Sorenson, wearing a flannel shirt and work boots, arms folded across his chest.

We need to talk, he said.

The grandfather clock tolled the hour, chiming three times after the introductory melody. Sitting in a high backed leather armchair in Grandpa Sorenson's study, Kendra wondered if grandfather clocks got their name because only grandparents owned them.

She looked over at Seth, seated in an identical chair. It looked too big for him. These were chairs for adults.

Why had Grandpa Sorenson left the room? Were they in trouble? After all, he had given her the keys that ended up leading her and the guinea pig to sample the milk.

Even so, she could not quit worrying that she had discovered something that was meant to stay hidden. Not only were fairies real, but Grandpa Sorenson had hundreds in his yard.

Is that a fairy skull? Seth asked, pointing to the flat-bottomed globe with the thumb-sized skull on Grandpa's desk.

Probably, Kendra said.

Are we busted?

We better not be. There were no rules against drinking milk.

The study door slid open. Grandpa entered along with Lena, who carried three mugs on a tray. Lena offered Kendra a mug, then Seth and Grandpa. The mug contained hot chocolate. Lena left the room as Grandpa took a seat behind his desk.

I am impressed how quickly you solved my puzzle, he said, taking a sip from his mug.

You wanted us to drink the milk? Kendra said.

Assuming you were the right kind of people. Frankly, I don't know you that well. I hoped that the kind of person who would take the trouble to solve my little puzzle would be the kind of person who could handle the notion of a preserve full of magical creatures. Fablehaven would be too much to swallow for most people.

Fablehaven? Seth repeated.

The name the founders gave this preserve centuries ago. A refuge for mystical creatures, a stewardship passed down from caretaker to caretaker over the years.

Kendra tried the hot chocolate. It was superb! The flavor made her think of the rosebud chocolates.

What do you have besides fairies? Seth asked.

Many beings, great and small. Which is the true reason the woods are off-limits. There are creatures out there much more perilous than venomous snakes or wild apes.

Only certain orders of magical life forms are generally permitted in the yard. Fairies, pixies, and such. Grandpa took another sip from his mug. You like the hot chocolate?

It's wonderful, Kendra said.

Made from the same milk you sampled in the garden today. Same milk the fairies drink. Just about the only food they'll eat. When mortals drink it, their eyes are opened to an unseen world. But the effects wear off after a day. Lena will prepare you a cup every morning so you can stop stealing from the fairies.

Where does it come from? Kendra asked.

We make it special in the barn. We have some dangerous creatures in there, too, so it's still off-limits.

Why's everything off-limits? Seth complained. I've been a long way into those woods four times and I've always been fine.

Four times? Grandpa said.

All before the warning, Seth amended hastily.

Yes, well, your eyes were not yet opened to what truly surrounded you. And you were fortunate. Even when you were blind to the enchanted creatures populating the forest, there are many places you could have ventured into from which you would not have returned. Of course, now that you can see them, the creatures here can interact with you much more readily, so the danger is much greater.

No offense, Grandpa, but is this really the truth?

Kendra asked. You've told us so many versions of why the woods are forbidden.

You saw the fairies, he said.

Kendra leaned forward. Maybe the milk made us hallucinate.

Maybe they were holograms. Maybe you just keep telling us whatever you think we'll believe.

I understand your concern, Grandpa said. I wanted to protect you from the truth about Fablehaven unless you sought it out for yourselves. It is not the kind of information I wanted to thrust upon you. That is the truth. What I'm telling you now is the truth. You'll have ample opportunity to confirm my words.

So the animals we saw at the pond were actually other creatures, like how the butterflies were fairies, Kendra clarified.

Most assuredly. The pond can be a hazardous place.

Return there now, and you would find friendly naiads beckoning you near the water in order to pull you under and drown you.

That's so cruel! Kendra said.

Depends on your perspective, Grandpa said, spreading his hands. To them, your life is so ridiculously short that to kill you is seen as absurd and funny. No more tragic than squashing a moth. Besides, they have a right to punish trespassers. The island at the center of the pond is a shrine to the Fairy Queen. No mortal is permitted to tread there.

I know of a groundskeeper who broke that rule. The moment he set foot on the sacred island, he transformed into a cloud of dandelion fluff, clothes and all. He scattered on the breeze and was never seen again.

Why would he go there? Kendra asked.

The Fairy Queen is widely considered the most powerful figure in all fairydom. The groundskeeper had a desperate need and went to plead for her assistance.

Apparently she was not impressed.

In other words, he had no respect for what was off-limits, Kendra said, giving Seth a meaningful look.

Precisely, Grandpa agreed.

The queen of the fairies lives on that little island?

Seth asked.

No. It is merely a shrine meant to honor her. Similar shrines abound on my property, and all can be dangerous.

If the pond is dangerous, why does it have a boathouse?

Kendra asked.

A previous caretaker of this preserve had a fascination with naiads.

The dandelion guy? Seth asked.

A different guy, Grandpa said. It's a long story. Ask Lena about it sometime; I believe she knows the tale.

Kendra shifted in the oversized chair. Why do you live in such a scary place?

Grandpa folded his arms on the desk. It's only frightening if you go where you don't belong. This entire sanctuary is consecrated ground, governed by laws that cannot be broken by the creatures who dwell here. Only on this hallowed soil could mortals interact with these beings with any measure of safety. As long as mortals remain within their boundaries, they are protected by the founding covenants of this preserve.

Covenants? Seth asked.

Agreements. Specifically, a treaty ratified by all the orders of whimsical life forms who dwell here that affords a measure of security for mortal caretakers. In a world where mortal man has become the dominant force, most creatures of enchantment have fled to refuges like this one.

What are the covenants? Kendra asked.

The specific details are complex, with many limitations and exceptions. Speaking broadly, they are based on the law of the harvest, the law of retribution. If you do not bother the creatures, they will not bother you. That is what affords you so much protection when you are unable to see them. You can't interact with them, so they generally behave likewise.

But now we can see them, Seth said.

Which is why you must use caution. The fundamental premises of the law are mischief for mischief, magic for magic, violence for violence. They will not initiate trouble unless you break the rules. You have to open the door. If you harass them, you open the door for them to harass you.

Hurt them, they can hurt you. Use magic on them, they will use magic on you.

Use magic? Seth said eagerly.

Mortals were never meant to use magic, Grandpa said. We are nonmagical beings. But I have learned a few practical principles that help me manage things. Nothing you would find very remarkable.

Can you turn Kendra into a toad?

No. But there are beings out there who could. And I would not be able to change her back. Which is why I need to finish this thought: Breaking the rules can include trespassing where you are not allowed. There are geographic boundaries set where certain creatures are allowed and certain creatures, including mortals, are not permitted. The boundaries function as a way to contain the darker creatures without causing an uproar. If you go where you do not belong, you could open the door to vicious retribution from powerful enemies.

So only good creatures can enter the yard, Kendra said.

Grandpa became very serious. None of these creatures are good. Not the way we think of good. None are safe.

Much of morality is peculiar to mortality. The best creatures here are merely not evil.

The fairies aren't safe? Seth asked.

They aren't out to harm anyone, or I wouldn't allow them in the yard. I suppose they are capable of good deeds, but they would not normally do them for what we would consider the right reasons. Take brownies, for instance.

Brownies don't fix things to help people. They fix things because they enjoy fixing things.

Do the fairies talk? Kendra asked.

Not much to humans. They have a language all their own, although they rarely speak to each other, except to trade insults. Most never condescend to use human speech.

They consider everything beneath them. Fairies are vain, selfish creatures. You may have noticed I drained all the fountains and the birdbaths outside. When they are full, the fairies assemble to stare at their reflections all day.

Is Kendra a fairy? Seth asked.

Grandpa bit his lip and stared at the floor, obviously trying to choke back a laugh. We had a mirror outside once and they flocked around it, Kendra said, studiously ignoring both the comment and the reaction. I wondered what the heck was going on.

Grandpa regained his composure. Exactly the sort of display I was trying to avoid by draining the birdbaths.

Fairies are remarkably conceited. Outside of a sanctuary like this one, they won't even let a mortal glimpse them.

Since they consider looking at themselves the ultimate delight, they deny the pleasure to others. Most of the nymphs have the same mentality.

Why don't they care here? Kendra asked.

They still care. But they can't hide when you drink their milk, so they have reluctantly grown accustomed to mortals seeing them. I have to laugh sometimes. The fairies pretend not to care what mortals think about them, but try giving one a compliment. She'll blush, and the others will crowd in for their turn. You would think they'd be embarrassed.

I think they're pretty, Seth said.

They're gorgeous! Grandpa agreed. And they can be useful. They handle most of my gardening. But good? Safe?

Not so much.

Kendra swallowed the last of her hot chocolate. So if we don't go into the woods or the barn, and don't bother the fairies, we'll be fine?