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This is actually a book that I've finished. I just thought I'd post it here so you guys can help me with the editing. I'd really appreciate any constructive criticism, please no destructive criticism. If you have any suggestions, helpful hints, or questions, just let me know. If something doesn't make sense, let me know and I'll fix it so that it does make sense! As I said, any advice is helpful! Also, if you have any ideas for a different name for this book, I would appreciate it! I think it needs a new name...

“Me? Late? Never!” she shot at his retreating back. To herself, she muttered, “Just because I despise acting doesn’t mean that I’m going to be late! Why’d they insist on having me play this role anyway?!” Walking up the stairs to her trailer, she went inside and grabbed the mail that was sitting on the table by the door. At the very top of the stack was a letter with an old-fashioned, wax seal on it. Thinking it was from her brother, Cairien opened it. The letter read:

Dear Student:

You have been invited to attend Kruz Academy of Magic as a sorceress. Your education will last four years. Enclosed is a list of supplies you will require as well as the list of uniforms. Only get what is required for a sorceress. We expect your reply no later than August 1st of this year. You will leave by train for school from platform one of Atira Station in The Capitol promptly at seven ‘o’ clock in the morning on August 31st of this year. Classes will begin on September 1st.

Sincerely,



Professor Lucy K. Moss
Deputy Headmistress

Cairien read and reread the letter. She had never, in her wildest dreams, imagined something like this happening to her. Where on earth was Atira station? It wasn’t in London, of that much Cairien was certain, she had grown up there, and if that wasn’t the capitol, then where was it? What would she tell everybody? Her brother? Her director? Her Band? Would she be fired? The only think Cairien loved more than acting was singing, she had several CD she was supposed to release soon, as soon as she had all the songs for it, but still, she had a lot of fans, what would they do?
Finally, her chaotic mind settled on one thing, she had to write to her brother, he was the one person she knew she would be unable to hide this from, and she didn’t know if it should be kept a secret or not. Cairien certainly had never heard of a magical world before now. Before she wrote to her older brother, Cairien looked at the second piece of parchment. On it was the following:

Students will bring, according to what they are, the following:
Uniforms:
Sorcerers: Black robes with red lining and/or black leather pants (not too tight), a red, silk button up shirt, and a leather jacket (optional, and may be tight if desired).
Sorceresses: Red, silk or velvet robes with a slit up to the top of the thigh and black lining and/or black silk or velvet robes with red lining and the same slit (to the top of the thigh). These should be tight fitting.
Witches: Green robes with a slit to the knee and black lining (made of silk or velvet) and/or Black robes with green lining and the same slight (to the knee). All robes should be tight fitting.
Wizards: Black robes with green lining and/or black leather pants (not too tight), a green, silk, button-up shirt with an optional leather jacket (may be tight if desired).
Books:
For Sorcerers/Sorceresses:
Shape changing Volume I by Rachel Bumlarton.
Herbs and Fungi of the Magical World by Ina Chow
Potions Volume I by Ina Chow
Magical Spells for Sorcery by Linda Spell
Defense Against the Dark Magics Volume I by Eljard Kruz
Magic Through History Volume I by Petrice Bumble
Divining the Future Volume I by Larry Spark
Using a Wand for Dummies by Carth Weaslby
For Witches/Wizards:
Transfiguring Volume I by Rachel Bumlarton
Herbs and Fungi of the Magical World by Ina Chow
Potions Volume I by Ina Chow
Magical Spells for Wizardry by Linda Spell
Defense Against the Dark Magics Volume I by Eljard Kruz
Magic Through History Volume I by Petrice Bumble
Divining the Future Volume I by Larry Spark
Your teachers request you at least look over your books before coming to school, if not reading them from cover to cover.

After the filming of the final scene, Cairien packed up her things and collapsed on the bed. She would only sleep for an hour or so, just until her brother came to pick her up that afternoon so they could get her school things and he could explain about the mysterious letter…

A woman who looked like the pictures Cairien had seen of her mother was crying. She took the three-year-old version of the now famous actress and singer and put her in a corner begging the little girl to stay put and out of sight.
Suddenly, the locked door of the small house exploded and a woman identical to Cairien’s mother stood in the doorway, a long, thin wand held in her left hand. She had long, black hair and her creamy skin was flawless. Her eyes, so like Cairien’s own, were piercing, angry. The woman who almost had to be Cairien’s aunt smirked, causing her beautiful face to look ugly, hideous, and distorted.
“Where is my niece sister?” the woman demanded, her soprano voice cold as ice as she pointed the wand at Cairien’s mother, Atira.
“I will not tell you, Martha!” Atira declared staunchly, tears in her eyes at her beloved twin sister’s betrayal.
Martha’s smirk grew. “I am no longer Martha,” she said coldly. “I am the Black Rose, and all fear to even mention my name by accident! Now, where is my niece?”
The woman who called herself the Black Rose pointed her long, thin wand at her sister and said clearly, “Tortuous!”
Atira screamed. It was a high, bone chilling sound, the sound of someone millions of people loved being tortured beyond what anyone could stand. The sound brought little Cairien from the corner where she had been safe from her evil aunt, running to her mother as fast as her stubby little legs could carry her.
“Mommy!” the little girl cried, clutching at her mother’s dress. When the little girl’s mother did not respond, Cairien turned to her aunt. “You bad lady!” she shouted. “Stop hurting my mommy!”
The Black Rose lifted the curse from her twin sister and pointed her wand at the little girl, saying the words that meant death for the person in the spell’s path.
“No!” shrieked Atira, jumping in the way of the curse and saving her beloved daughter’s life with her own. Just as Cairien’s mother died, a man rushed in, took in the scene and, with a wave of his hand, the Black Rose vanished before she could cast another spell.
“Atira!” cried the man, dashing to the dying woman’s side and lifting her into his arms.
Pulling the rings on her left ring finger off of her hand, the woman handed them to the man and barely managed to whisper, “Give these to her, El. Give them to her when she turns sixteen. I love you.”
The man started to cry as Atira’s body went limp in his arms and Cairien walked up to him. “Daddy?” she said, putting one tiny hand on his arm. “Daddy? Is Mommy going to be okay?”
Cairien’s father turned to his little girl, setting his wife’s dead body on the ground and put the little girl on his lap. Hugging her, he sobbed, “No, hon, Mommy’s not going to be alright. Mommy’s dead, she’s asleep and she’s never going to wake up, you’ll never see her again.”
Three-year-old Cairien started to cry…

When she walked out of her dressing room, Bradly was taking a nap on one of the few chairs there were in the small trailer. As she walked towards him, he opened one eye. “Wow,” he said, standing up. “You look great!” Offering his sister his arm, he led her out of the trailer and into his shiny, new seven-series BMW.
As they drove, Bradly explained to Cairien that she was the crown princess of the magical world, and as such, she would be expected to act as a princess while she was at school. As princess of the magical world, if she didn’t want to, Cairien wouldn’t have to wear the school uniform after the first week of classes.
The new BMW slowed to a stop in front of a closed modeling agency in London. “Here we are,” Bradly said, turning the car off and getting out. Leading the way through the door of the modeling agency.

((end chapter one))

Bradly’s lips tightened and he turned to his younger sister. “Come here Cairien,” he ordered.
Although Damian detected no hint of danger from Bradly, Cairien obviously did. Turning on her heel, she turned and fled out of the pub and down the street before anyone could do anything.
Damian swore and took off after her. When he finally was close enough, he grabbed her arm. Turning Cairien around when she started to struggle, he was shocked to see the frightened tears streaming down her face.
“What are you running from, your highness?” he asked her.
“Please don’t take me back to my brother!” the young girl exclaimed. Her face paled as she thought of the last time her brother had been angry with her. For some reason, he got mad at her for the smallest things, things that were usually his fault, not hers.
“Why not?” Damian asked, confused.
“Because if you take me back there,” Cairien explained, her voice shaking slightly, “Brad will probably hurt me for getting lost. He does it all the time when he something goes wrong, usually when it’s his fault and he feels stupid.”
Damian thought for a moment and then sighed, “Wait here and I’ll get your account number from your brother; then we’ll go and get your school stuff.”

Damian looked at Cairien, who had eyes that were wide with amazement and wonder. “Your highness, this is an elf. The elves and dwarves manage the bank. Elves are also servants to the humans in the magical world.”
The elf looked up at the sound of Damian’s voice. “Ah, Mr. Storm. Do you need money from your mother’s vault?” the elf asked.
Nodding, Damian said, “Yes, and I’ll be needing to get into the royal vault as well.”
Raising an eyebrow, the elf asked archly, “Do you have royal permission?”
“Does her highness require royal permission, or is her presence enough?” Damian shot back, gesturing at Cairien.
The elf took one look at the young woman and the crown on her forehead and immediately stuttered, “No, she doesn’t need permission.” Pressing a button on his desk, he said, “Flynn will take you to the vaults.”
“Thank you, Darion. You’ve been most helpful,” Damian said as another elf came through the back door.
The newcomer walked up to them and gestured for them to follow. “This way please,” he said. Flynn had the same blonde hair and green eyes as the first elf Cairien had seen. Noticing that Cairien had never been here before, he pointed out points of interest as they walked down a white, well-lit hallway.
“What is the vault number?” Flynn asked Damian.
“Three hundred and seventy-six,” the dark-haired young man replied.
Flynn stopped before a large metal door. “And the account number and password please?” he added, pulling out a wand.
“Three, Password’s DarkOps, one word, the ‘D’ and the ‘O’ are capitalized,” Damian replied.
The elf traced the number three and the password on the door with the wand and the door swung open. Damian walked in, opened a leather pouch that was tied to his belt, and filled it with gold, silver, and copper coins.
“Is there anywhere else you need to go?” Flynn asked when Damian had finished.
Damian nodded. “Her vault,” he said, gesturing at Cairien.
“Number?” the elf asked.
Grinning, Damian whispered into Flynn’s ear.
The elf’s green eyes widened in surprise at whatever it was Damian had said. Looking at the circlet on Cairien’s forehead, he bowed to her. “This way please, your highness,” Flynn told her, leading the two humans down the hallway.

When they left the bank, Damian took Cairien to a shop across the street called Fantastic’s Outfitters. “This is where we’ll get our uniforms,” he told her, leading her into the large store. Instantly, two elves, one male, the other female, appeared in front of them. The male, wearing an emerald green robe, led Damian to a side room and the female politely asked Cairien to follow her.
“Are you here for the Academy?” the elf asked.
Cairien nodded and when the elf asked whether she was going as a sorceress or a witch, Cairien told her she was a sorceress.
“My name is Ileria,” the elf told her as she took her measurements.
“I’m Cairien.” The young girl looked around and noticed other people being fitted for their school uniforms as well. At the mention of her name, Ileria took Cairien and, pulling things off the racks, school uniforms as well as other things, she led the young princess to a large, private room off the main room of the store.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness,” the beautiful elf replied, putting gowns up to Cairien, setting some aside and discarding others. “I’ll be your seamstress as soon as I finish my internship here at Fantastic’s Outfitters.”
Cairien nodded as Ileria discarded all of the red uniforms at once and handed her the black ones.
“Why don’t you take your clothes off and put those on and I’ll fit them to you,” the elf said.
After she had put the black uniforms on, Ileria pulled out a pincushion filled with pins and waved her wand. As she let go of the pincushion, it stayed in mid-air and the elf began to pin the school uniforms. “It really is a pity you can’t wear red,” she remarked. “It’s one of my favorite colors.”
Cairien shrugged. “I’ve never looked good in red,” she replied. “Besides, I look better in pastels anyway.”
Ileria smiled. “That’s certainly true enough,” she said, putting the last pin in place on the hem. “Now, take that off and put on the next one…”

Chapter Three:

Damian led Cairien along the darkening streets until they arrived at an enormous mansion. “It’s not much,” he remarked calmly. “But it’s home.”
Cairien’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Not much?!” she exclaimed. “That’s the biggest home I’ve ever seen in my life!”
The young man laughed, a deep, rich, cheerful sound. “It’s not much compared to your home,” he replied, pointing at the larges building she had ever seen.
The royal palace was ten times the size of Damian’s mansion, which was three times the size of Buckingham palace, and had miles and miles of gardens, trees, and other things surrounding it, including a high, marble wall.
“How does all of this fit on the island? How big is this island anyway?” Cairien blurted out.
Once again, Damian laughed. “It’s magically enchanted to fit everything without revealing any of it to non-magic eyes from the outside,” he told her. “In all honesty, that palace takes up the entire island by itself.”
Cairien’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “So all of this,” Cairien gestured at the city around her, “was built on water?”
“Pretty much,” Damian replied, shrugging as though it were an everyday occurrence. “Let’s go in.” He led the way into his home, through his front door. The moment he was inside, a beautiful woman with dark hair crossed the room and embraced her son.
After returning the woman’s embrace, Damian said to both women, “Mother, this is Princess Cairien. Cai, this is my mother, Duchess Loralen.”
Loralen and Cairien curtsied to each other; Loralen’s both deeper and more graceful.
The duchess winced as she watched Cairien’s awkward curtsy, but instead of commenting on the clumsiness of it, she simply said, “Your highness, you honor my home by gracing us with your presence.” Loralen rose from her curtsy, her blood-red, silk gown rustling gently as she moved.
A pained expression crossed the young princess’ face and she begged, “Please, Duchess, call me Cai. And could we possibly skip the formalities?”
Loralen raised one dark eyebrow, but nodded acceptance. “Alright then, Cai,” the duchess said, her voice cascading like a gentle waterfall. “But you must agree to take princess lessons from me before you go to school. We wouldn’t want the heiress to our world to disgrace herself her first time in the social circles.”
The color drained from Cairien’s face as she contemplated that idea and she hastily agreed that lessons would be a wonderful idea.
Damian grinned. “Well Mother,” he said. “I’ll let you get started with that. I believe I have homework I’ve left unfinished all summer.”
As her son retreated, Loralen sent a glare after him. “Your father doesn’t approve of procrastination Damian!” she called sternly. Damian’s laughter and the sound of his feet on the marble stairs to an upper floor were her only reply.
Rolling her eyes at her son’s actions, Loralen gestured for Cairien to follow her and the royalty lessons began, starting with posture and instructions to never apologize.