Bella flies in a spiral rather than chance the stairs. The air glows, the layout's just like the one she drew, it has high vaulted ceilings and big open doors with rounded corners into the sewing room and the kitchen and more customary ones - albeit made out of rock, like everything else - for the bedroom and the bathroom. The appliances are sleekly white and silver, and they look like extremely iconic versions of their types, without brands or electrical cords or even a humming noise from the fridge. All the colors are as she wrote, and she sinks an inch into the rich red carpet when she lands at the foot of the stairs in the central room. Bella lifts back into the air just so she can twirl without falling over. "Here ya go," she says.