"Sarah, come away from there. You'll catch a cold", my mother scolds. I had been hanging my head out of one of the open windows of our new 'house'. Which really wasn't the term for is. 'Castle' or 'palace' would suit it better. She decided she wanted me to spend the rest of my childhood somewhere magical, so we packed our bags and moved to this place, which my dad had inherited from my grandparents after they died a few months ago. The thing was, I wasn't a child anymore. No teenager wanted to leave their life behind just to move to some castle in another country. The only thing keeping me from throwing a huge fit about it was a fascination with the history here.

I backed away from the window to appease her and fingered through some books. "I'm going to go explore", I say, getting bored. mom nods absent-mindedly, staring at a painting of a man in armor. The estate still had a lot of the original furniture, so there were lots of interesting things to catch your eye.

Wondering down the endless hallways was an eery experience with all of its stone archways and cool air. This place looked like it belonged in a horror movie about vampires or ghosts. I kept expecting someone to jump out at me and yell "BOO!"

My own room was enormous, with a canopied bed with beautifully carved posts. A cushioned bench sat right next to the window, perfect for daydreaming or reading. But my favorite part was the adjoined library. It looked fit for royalty, and probably was at one time. Just walking inside this place seemed to transport you back in time.

Beautiful tapestries decorated the halls, making them feel somewhat more welcoming, if that was even possible. While it was definitely beautiful, it felt more like a museum than a home. We weren't the only people living here. The place came with Gretel the cook, Henry the groundskeeper, and Abigail the housekeeper. I found it strange, seeing as my dad and I usually took care of any repair jobs and mom and I cooked back home. I liked to do things myself, but I also didn't want to put these people out of a job.

I came to a dead end. The wall was covered by a painting of the castle in it's glory days. Red banners hung over its walls and knights guarded the gate. It was so beautiful it almost looked real. Under the painting was a wooden table with a sword laid atop of it. The hilt was lavishly decorated with inscriptions and jewels.

Ignoring Henry's earlier threat about touching artifacts, I reach forward to touch the blade. The second my fingers touch it, white hot heat spreads through my fingertips. I yelp and yank my hand back, cradling it against my stomach and hurrying to the nearest bathroom to run it under cold water.

What the heck was that? I quickly turn on the cold water in the bathroom sink and plunge my hand under it, getting instant relief. When I shut off the water and examine my fingers, not a mark is on them. How could a burn like that come from a sword just lying on a table? It made no sense. Maybe I was just imagining things. It was probably just jet lag. The flight from the US east coast to London was exhausting, not to mention the three hour drive after that.

When I get back to my room, I curl up with a blanket on my window seat since I wasn't tired enough to sleep, and tried to forget about the strange sword. I stared out the window and into the forest until I hear the dinner bell ring. Throwing my blanket aside, I make my way down to the dining room, not an easy task seeing as it seemed like a maze to get to the main floor.

Gretel had made us a big turkey dinner as a welcome. She even brought out gold trimmed dishes for am extra touch. The long table only had two settings, for mom and I. I wondered were everyone else would be eating, but thought it would be rude to ask. Dad was still in the states wrapping up his old job, so he wouldn't be here for another few weeks.

"Thank you, Gretel!", mom chirps happily to the burly woman before she leaves the room. Unlike me, she loved not having to cook every night for a change. The food was great, but I wasn't really hungry so I ended up just pushing my mashed potatoes around my plate and listened to moms chatter about how charming the castle is.

After dinner, mom insisted we explore together even though I had already done so on my own. All I wanted to do was read a book in my room and unpack, but she wasn't having any of it. My mother never really understood personal space.

She dragged me up to an upper level and pulled me over to a painting of a young girl, probably about my age. "Couldn't she be your twin?!", she exclaims. "I found it earlier when Abigail gave me a tour."

I look at the painting. There might be some resemblance, but not much. "I don't see it."

She crosses her arms in a look of mock defiance. "You have the exact same eyes! And look at the shape of her face. You're so similar. How can you not see it?"

"Okay mom. Whatever. She sorta looks like me. Can I go back to my room now?", I ask. She huffs with an annoyed look on her face, like I should be enjoying mother-daughter bonding time, but lets me go Anyway. When I get back to the room, I turn on the shower and shrug off my jacket. Coo,l damp air hits my bare arms. Then I notice something black on my right arm. I hurry to the mirror finding a symbol printed on my arm.

How did that get there? I try to scrub it off in the shower, but it wouldn't even fade. Looking closer, you could definitely tell it wasn't ink or one of those temporary tattoos kids got. It was burned into my skin. "Holy crap", I whisper to myself. If mom saw it I was as good as dead. She'd probably think I had gone and gotten a tattoo.

I get dressed in my pajamas and try to find some make up remover. After finding some, I wet a cloth with a generous amount and scrub at it until my skin is practically raw. It does absolutely nothing. Frustrated, I throw the rag I was using at the mirror. I trace the rune, or at least that's was I guessed it was, with my fingers. The intricate design curled over my upper arm, making me feel like a branded cow.

Suddenly it started burning. I cry out and clutch my arm tightly. The pain is too much, and I crumple to the floor, gasping for breath between screams. Yet I don't hit the floor. I feel as if I fell right through it.

I land roughly, taking most of my weight on my arm. I moan in pain and roll onto my back. A blinding light shines in my face, brighter then the lamps in my room had been. When I open my eyes I didn't see my ceiling as expected. I saw a forest, thick with trees and plants. My eyes widen in shock as I sit up, still grasping my arm.

"Holy crap. This is not my room."