Castle of Flame

Chapter One: The Lost Princess

"Are we close to the top?"

"Yes!" called Ren Taylor's mom. She turned around, her turquoise raincoat flashing in the sun. She was a good thirty feet further up the path than Ren and her older brother, Elliott. "I think we just have the steepest part of the climb left now. I can see people gathered at the top."

Ren's dad had caught up with his children, and he slung his arms over Ren's and Elliott's shoulders. "Your mother," he wheezed, "is indefatigable."

"Yeah," Elliott said. "I think she's immune to jetlag."

Ren sighed. "Well, come on. I'm sure the view is worth it, given all the fuss people make."

As they got closer to the rocky protrusion at the top of the hill, the path grew steeper and more treacherous, with jagged rocks sticking up through the mud. Ren figured she would've managed better if she were used to hiking, or walking up hills for that matter, but Ren and her family were from South Florida, where hills were a mythical concept.

Ren, Elliott, and their father eventually reached the top of the extinct volcano that was Arthur's Seat, catching up with their mother and twenty or so other tourists. Ren settled herself on a ledge of reddish-brown vesicular rock, allowing her wobbly legs to rest. She drank in the view. It was a perfect early summer day, with sparse gray clouds floating in the sky, and the water of the Firth of Forth was a calm, mirror-like sea blue in the distance. The city of Edinburgh spread out before Ren, with the entire medieval main street, the Royal Mile, visible, stretching from Holyrood Palace to Edinburgh Castle, which was perched on another mass of volcanic rock. Apart from the green splotches of the many gardens, it was not a brightly colored city. Both the medieval and eighteenth-century sections were constructed mostly of gray stone, and it felt honest in a way South Florida never could. Ren smiled as she caught the glint of a corner of a rainbow over the Firth.

Ren's mom and dad were standing a few feet away. They turned their backs to the view while Elliott took their picture.

"Okay, guys, let's take a selfie," Ren's dad said. Ren caught Elliott's eye and stifled her sarcastic grin. Their father was a huge fan of family selfies, but since he refused to buy a selfie stick, claiming it would make him look like a "real tourist," the selfies were terrible. Ren hadn't bothered to tell him that his lime green raincoat and bucket hat guaranteed that he would be considered a "real tourist" regardless. Ren and Elliott squashed in with their parents, and their scents mingled to create the smell that Ren associated with home: new books, pottery, and fresh mulch, which may have been because her dad was wearing his gardening pants. Ren's dad stretched his arm out and took the photo, narrowly avoiding dropping his phone.

"We should head back down soon," Ren's mom said. "We still need to go tour the castle, pick up our rental car, and drive three hours to Oban before the end of the day."

They started picking their way down from the highest part of the hill. "Did Mom just chug coffee while we were trying to sleep on the plane?" Elliott whispered to Ren.

"I think she has caffeine in her veins instead of blood during vacations," said Ren. "But this place," Ren lifted her head to drink in the fresh, earthy air, recently touched by rain, "is beautiful. It feels like there's magic in the air." Ren's gaze drifted over to the tiny loch nestled down by the road that wove through the park. Something was moving in the water, making waves. "Do you see that?" Ren pointed, and Elliott squinted at the loch.

"It could be an otter. I've heard they show up here sometimes."

Ren squinted as well, and hurried down the path to get a closer look. The water went still again. "That's so strange," mused Ren. "For a moment, I thought I saw a tiny human face."