Lilly hadn't been to England in a few years, but it was just as she remembered it. This was where her mother grew up. She'd been here to visit while Evelyn worked with the British Museum and spent most of her trips in London, so the charming country estate was new territory for her. The Plover estate was a historical Tudor style house, much like the Physical cottage at Brakebills. It was quite clear as they walked up the path, that the house had at least one full-time caretaker to maintain it. The lush green hedges were pristine, the house itself perfectly painted. They'd arrived by way of Eliot and Margo's private portal to their favorite pub. A short drive later, they had arrived at the Plover Estate. Eliot insisted on coming along, presumably for the distraction from his thoughts of Mike.

The awe on Quentin's face was unmistakable, and Lilly found herself smiling at the joy in his eyes. She was soaking up the experience of being in the exact place her favorite childhood stories were born. The brilliant author who helped inspire her passion for literature had walked this very ground and lived inside these walls. It looked increasingly likely that Quentin might faint the closer they got to the entrance.

Luckily, Q kept it together enough to start the tour, but Lilly had the sneaking suspicion it was because his fanboy brain had shorted out on him. His mouth seemed to be permanently stuck hanging open. Every time they entered a new room, his eyes would widen the slightest bit more. She couldn't blame him, it was a pretty amazing experience, especially for a super fan like Q. Penny looked thoroughly bored, and rolled his eyes every time Quentin spouted off an interesting fact or corrected the tour guide, who'd been put to shame by Quentin's never-ending wealth of knowledge.

"Now, we have some pictures of the Plover family," the tour guide lead the group down one of the many hallways, stopping beside a table displaying various pictures. He gestured to the one closest to them, "Plover's sister, Prudence, cared for him until his untimely death in 1952." The picture was of an older woman with her hair pulled into a tight updo, indicative of the era the photograph was taken in. Her left eye was cloudy but still stared straight into the lens. "Stay with the group, please!" the guide called to someone behind her. Eliot had opened one of the doors and was beginning to peek inside. "Not all rooms are for public viewing," Eliot begrudgingly shut the door, and once the guide was satisfied, he continued his scripted explanation. "Prudence said Christopher so understood children because of his own tragic childhood. He aided many families in the area and paid for the education of his housekeeper's children, George and Beatrix. Not only did he write for the Chatwins, but he took them in briefly when their mother died. Legend has it, Jane walked through a closet in this very house to get to Fillory."

If only he knew how true those legends were. With the knowledge that Fillory was real, the Plover estate seemed much more mysterious and magical than the home of a simple fiction writer. This was where it all began. Lilly's eyes drifted back to the photograph of Prudence Plover. A chill ran down her spine and her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot. The woman's gaze was cold and paralyzing, something about her wasn't right.

"Lilly? You alright?" Alice's soft voice pulled her from her reverie, she hadn't even realized that the tour group had moved on until she saw they were the only ones left in the corridor. Lilly shook her head to clear the fog that'd settled on her mind.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," she glanced uneasily back at the photo before following her friend to the writer's room. She found a spot beside Penny in the room where Fillory and Further was created. The study may as well have been a library for the number of books in it. Every shelf was filled, every surface stacked high. The room should've been a dream come true, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

"This is where Fillory was born, where Plover told tales to Jane and Martin," a glance towards Quentin confirmed her suspicion. He was living his dream, "as Plover wrote, 'there is no substitute for a childhood of adventure, warmth, and love.'" Quentin's lips formed the words as the tour guide spoke, mesmerized. Unfortunately, Penny caught the moment as well and had to comment.

"You will never be a man," Lilly elbowed Penny a little harder than necessary.

"Just let him have this," Penny rolled his eyes, but didn't argue, and surprisingly kept the snarky comments to a minimum for the rest of the tour. Lilly was still furious with him for destroying the manuscript, and every time she caught him watching her, she sent him a hard glare for good measure.

Strangely, considering all the time Lilly had spent dreaming of Fillory and being fascinated by Christopher Plover and the real Chatwin children, she couldn't wait to leave. She had to give the place credit. It had the creep factor down solid. Once the tour finished, the five of them settled into a local pub with a few hours to kill. They couldn't return to the estate until well after it closed, and Eliot was already taking advantage of the bar.

"Eliot, don't drink the whole bloody bar! we have a mission!"

"Lil, sweetie, your British is showing," Eliot slurred before he took another shot of whiskey and stumbled to the bar to order more. It was rare that Lilly spoke like her mother, but she grew up hearing British slang, and being around the other Brits made it come out. Music blared from a small stage where a live band was performing, and they had to yell to be heard over it. The bartender set down a double shot of whiskey for Eliot, and Lilly had to lunge across the counter to snatch it up before he could drink it.

"What the hell, Thumper?"

"I'm officially cutting you off!"

"I haven't even had that much to drink!" He tried to reason, and Lilly glanced, slack-jawed, at the tower of empty shot glasses on the bartop. She wondered how much he considered too much. Something told her the limit did not exist. In her moment of distraction, Eliot cast a simple charm, pulling the glass back into his hand.

"Eliot, we're in the middle of a muggle bar! You can't just do that out in the open!" He simply shrugged and ordered another. She stomped after him, but someone pulled her back. She turned to find Penny and immediately scowled.

"I got this. Go sit down. I promise I won't let him kill himself." She hesitated, looking him up and down with burning eyes. With a huff, she decided to let him deal with it and flopped down at the table occupied by Quentin and Alice with a sigh. She swiped Quentin's Guinness and took a much-deserved swig. When she set it down, she realized his gaze had locked onto her chest. Her immediate reaction was to check for a wardrobe malfunction, but upon inspection, she realized that the clock necklace had slipped from her shirt.

"Is that?" He breathed in disbelief, "where did you get that?"

"Oh my God! I completely forgot! With everything that happened, it must've slipped my mind! Eliza left it for me. I think it was Jane's." Quentin slid his chair closer and reached out to grab it, but stopped short and looked to her for permission. She nodded, reaching behind her to unclasp the lock. She handed it carefully to him and watched as he studied it with fascination.

"Why did Eliza have it?"

"I don't know." The rest of the night was spent with Penny trying to hold Eliot back from getting drunk and ruining their chances of finding the button. Lilly, Quentin, and Alice continued to inspect her necklace and theorize about how it came to be in Eliza's possession and why she would give it to Lilly. It was ten past midnight when they returned to the Plover estate.

"Alright, let's find this button and get out of here," Penny instructed from the back of the group.

"Please," Lilly agreed, "this place gives me the creeps." She rubbed her arms lightly to rid herself of the goosebumps that formed the moment they stepped onto the property. Eliot shattered the security cameras with the wave of his hand, leading the rest of them forward. Lilly's heart was beating at an unnatural pace as they moved down the dark corridor towards the study. Every shadow seemed to press in on them, and she made a point to stay in the middle of the pack. Thankfully, Quentin switched on the lights once they reached the study, and they each split off to search the room.

"This is where he wrote it, right here," Quentin ran his fingers along the thick mahogany desk, "this desk saved my life." Lilly broke away from Alice and Quentin as his history with the books. She'd heard it before and didn't feel it was her place to intrude on the moment. Instead, she followed Eliot to the far corner of the room. The books displayed weren't anything of interest. Plover owned way too many dictionaries and world atlas'. There were many titles she didn't recognize, probably history books and other random things.

"Hey," Lilly whispered to Eliot across a small stack of papers, "I know you're not okay but, how are you? Honestly, we haven't had time to talk about what happened since we found out about all this." Eliot didn't look up from the papers and only managed a short reply.

"I'm fine, Thumper, the booze is working miracles. You should drink more, you're so tense." He was still tipsy from their earlier pub visit, and it was pretty obvious he wouldn't be sharing his feelings with her tonight. He moved across the room to start searching the cupboards for any clues. It was only a few moments before he called out again.

He moved aside to reveal an antique safe hidden in one of the cabinets. The four of them crowded around to watch Eliot perform the lock picking spell. Penny stayed where he was against the far wall. A soft click sounded, and Eliot produced a pile of papers from the safe, handling a few to each of them. Lilly sifted through her papers, skimming each one for information. Bank statements, letters, birth certificates, none of which contained anything useful.

"Hey, this could be something," Alice announced, handing Q a yellowing sheet of parchment covered in sweeping handwriting.

"It's a letter from Prudence, his sister, to their lawyer," Quentin's eyebrows knit together, and Lilly peeked over his shoulder curiously. "Plover died of a heart attack in 1952, but this is all about how he's missing, not dead. She wants a death certificate issued... holy shit, they lied!" The gears in each of their minds turned rapidly, trying to work through this new information.

"Why would she lie if the --"

"Rumors about Plover," Quentin explained, "he- there are these kids that were missing, kids that knew Plover, and in his absence, people were talking, and the longer they stayed vanished, the more people started to connect them in a bad way."

"But, it's more complicated than that, right? Well, because Fillory is actually real."

"Exactly, Plover was crushed that the Chatwins were missing because he knew exactly where they went."

"So, he went to Fillory?"

"And the books were already getting famous, so maybe it was easier to just say he died, I guess."

"So, what happened to him?"

"Maybe he went after them," Lilly interjected, scanning the letter over Quentin's shoulder, "to Fillory, maybe he found the button?"

"I got a theory," they all turned to Penny, who was looking through the many books, "McCabe, Livingston, Ali, Popper."

"Oh, my God."

"He was studying magic," Alice stated what everyone knew, those were all textbooks they'd studied at Brakebills. The building blocks of a magical education.

"Guess that never made it to the message boards." Penny reached down to pull out a few more books and brought them to the desk. "But, check this out- Kaminski, Umar, Aurora."

"I've never even heard of those," Eliot drawled, fiddling idly with his rings.

"Of course you haven't, you're not a Traveler. It's the entire 101."

"Plover was a Traveler?"

"Or he wanted to be. I mean, you go one inch wrong you're torn to shreds." Penny's imagery was less than appealing, but it got the point across. "Try this, Plover's an idiot, like you, who wanted to go to Fillory, like you, so he tries a spell and gets blown up." His theory was sound in logic, and everyone knew it, but there was still a small possibility that something else had happened.

"Or it worked," out of the corner of her eye, Lilly could have sworn she saw a dark shape zip past the doorway. A cool breeze tickled her skin, causing a shiver to run up her spine. She had the sinking feeling that they were being watched.

"Did anyone else just see that?" She didn't dare tear her eyes from the door. No one seemed to be listening, Penny and Eliot were too busy drinking, but Quentin and Alice headed for the door, they must've seen it too. She followed after them, ignoring the unease in her stomach. They were Magicians, after all, they could handle a little burglar, but it was the possibility that it wasn't a burglar that had her on edge.

She followed close behind the other two, moving cautiously into the corridor. A rattling came from the door to their left, and all three of their heads snapped towards it. It wasn't until the whispering started that Lilly became truly scared. It floated ominously towards her from the hallway to her right, carried by a nonexistent breeze. The whispers surrounded her, caressing her skin with an unearthly touch. She'd seen enough horror movies to know when it was time to jump ship. That time was the moment she saw the figure run past the door. However, it was as if she was under some sort of trance, and her feet carried her away from her companions and towards the pull of phantom voices.

"Trapped here. Help us. Trapped here. Help us. Trapped here. Help us."

The voices grew in volume with every step, until they were like a swarm of bees, angrily buzzing in her ear, each one fighting for supremacy. She was moving farther and farther away from her friends, and the light from the study scarcely illuminated this end of the corridor. She kept going, nothing felt more important to her than following the voices. There was a sense of urgency, and agony, only she could help them.

She followed them down hallway after hallway, not even registering what she was doing until she arrived before one of the countless doors. The moment her feet stalled, the cacophony of voices stilled. The quiet was so abrupt it felt as if it had been cut with a knife. Her friends were nowhere to be found. She finally realized the situation she'd put herself in and couldn't help the trickle of fear that ran down her spine when she thought of what might lie beyond the door. Her heart beat so hard it hurt, and the rhythmic banging seemed to echo throughout the shadowy corridor. She reached her slender fingers towards the knob. They'd just barely grazed the cool metal when she heard it.

"She's coming..."

The voice of a child whispered, so close, so real, that she'd even felt the cool breath raise the hairs on her neck. She whirled, faster than she'd ever thought possible, and came face to face with the last person she would have expected.

Prudence Plover.

"How many times must I tell you not to disturb Mr. Plover while he's working, Jane?" Her voice was harsh, like gravel, her eyebrows knit together maliciously, and her lips pursed tightly. Lilly's eyes widened in horror as the specter approached. How was this possible? Prudence was dead. She was dead, yet here she stood before her, clear as day. It took longer than it should've for her brain's screams to connect with the rest of her body.

She darted past Prudence and towards her friends as fast as she could, but she never made it that far. Before she could scream, Prudence had her by the hair and slammed her skull full force against the wall.