Beneath the Fountain

10. The Song of Formosara

"The bedrooms are this way," Mystery announces as he tries to lead me down the long hallway that, in the real world, would lead past the staring portraits of my family and to my bedroom at the end of it.

"I know," I say as I walk a completely different direction from which he was trying to lead me. He stands looking stunned and lost for a moment, but then he follows me when he realizes that somehow, I know exactly where I am going. "Did I ever tell you that this whole place is almost an exact replica of my own home?" I ask in explanation to help dwindle his confusion. "The only things that are different are the paths and the placement of some things outside. That's why I needed you to lead me here. Now that we are inside, I know exactly where I am going." This home is exactly the same as my own, but it is missing some of the furnishings such as paintings; curtains, which the lack of them actually provides a pleasant view of the sky through all the tall windows; and any color beside silver. The furniture is the same, though, only it is made of glass. The walls, ceilings, and floors are the same texture as the ones I am used to, but they are silver which makes things somewhat different and confusing, but I still know my way around nonetheless.

"Who knows, I may even know this place better than you do," I say playfully as I gaze at the familiar yet strangely different halls and rooms.

"That is highly doubtful," he says lightly, and even though I can't see him, I can hear the smile in his voice. He is now walking beside me again seeming as if he is struggling to keep up with my purposeful pace. "Well, if you know where we are going, why aren't we heading towards the wing with the bedrooms?" he asks sounding triumphant. He must think that he knows these halls better than me after all.

"Because we aren't going to the bedrooms," I say nonchalantly offering no explanation or hints. It's fun to keep him in the dark.

"Then where are we going?" He asks curiously, unknowingly playing into my little game.

"You don't know?" I ask innocently. "Come on, Mystery, I thought you knew this house better than me."

"Well, Sage, this is a big house with many possible rooms in this direction," he says in his defense. He walks with his arms held behind him. It's another one of his strange behaviors, but it makes him look quite respectable and authoritative in a way. It's as if his presence itself just demands attention and holds a high power. Maybe he was a lord, or maybe just a man of great fortune before he was sent here. It also makes him look older although he can't be much older than twenty.

Maybe our closeness in age is why we get along so well: we both still have a playful side, but we can be very serious at the same time. Whereas Mr. Daniels is always serious and I feel like I'm being constantly judged or scrutinized for something that he deems childish and insolent when I am only being myself. I don't understand why he expects me to be so mature already considering that I only just turned 18. But that is only another reason that Mr. Daniels and I are so incompatible: my head is in the clouds while his feet are firmly grounded on earth. We are just too different to ever get along.

As we approach the grand silver door with engravings of vines climbing up the sides, I can't help but smile in excitement, especially when I see Mystery's reaction to our destination. "Mystery, for your sake and my own, let's just hope that I am better at solving mysteries than you are," I announce just as I open the doors with a slight creak, but the small noise they emitted is music to my ears.

We both stop in the doorway and stare at the room in astonishment. The wide circular room is topped with a glass dome where the stars, along with glowing balls of white light that are spaced along the wall, illuminate the room in a bright light. Tall silver columns border the room on the wall's edge, and small, engraved music notes dance their way up them. Throughout the room in their respective places lie instruments made of the purest and finest crystal. Flutes, violins, cellos, chimes, and more. Not one edge is too sharp, not one marking is unwanted. In the center of the room upon its own pedestal lays the pride and joy of the instrument collection: the grand piano. It stands on its four glass legs as if it were a king sitting on his throne. "This room is even more impressive than I could've possibly imagined," I state, breathless.