Up near the ceiling of the ballroom, everything was eerie. Shadows crawled in the darkness, illuminating everything in a creepy glow. Slightly acid green. It made demons rip apart the sides of my stomach, my guts and nerve falling straight out of my body and on to dusty marble floor some hundreds of feet below me.

I quickly tore my mind and eyes away from view of the far-away floor I could plainly see below the steel mesh pathway I was walking on. I instead looked up to the next 'flying plaza'. Great. Only halfway to go.

Ever imagine what it would be like to live in a magical castle? With a mysterious Master who took you in with no explanation? Who disappeared into the depths of the castle for all but a day's worth of daylight each week to check up on you? Who you never knew anything about except his greatness, accomplishments, and fame?

Well, living in a magical castle is more unsettling that living in a ghost town. It might as be one, anyways. No servants, no butlers, no staff—no one. Just the Master and me. But mainly only me.

The mysterious Master I 'lived' with, in loose terms, was totally cliché: tall, from some fancy country, speaking some romance language. The Master was Italian, spoke Italian and English, had this weird sleek bronze hair that was clean cut and these emerald-colored eyes. His complexion was had an olive tint, like most Italians, but Master's got grayer and paler each time I saw him, even if it was just a little bit.

At first, I thought it was just old age. Maybe he looked young—incredibly young—for his age, and was actually a seventy-year-old man. Or, maybe a twenty-year-old that spent so much time in the sunless passages of this unending labyrinth his skin was just adapting to it.

He might have been swarmed by girls had he ever stepped foot outside the castle. But I'm a straight boy. I don't really like men like that.

So, for a while, I thought he was a normal person, but then I saw it. Everything. The little notions that told me he wasn't exactly human—couldn't be. Because, how can you explain the way he could sit like a statue, his piercing eyes watching my every movement like a hawk, and fiddle with my head. That's right. I don't know what he did, but I started blanking out. I started to crack the seemingly unbreakable stone slabs that made up the dreary walls in my newfound frustration.

And so, that's why I was five hundred feet above the marble ballroom floor, scared out of my skin of falling, gripping the rails so hard they were bending under my hands, taking the last step onto the 'flying plaza', a large piece of stone unexplainably hovering right below the center point of the semi-spherical ceiling that couldn't be seen from the world below. Like it was invisible.

As soon as I had both feet on the stone, I felt the railing's metal disappear into thin air on my hands. I looked back reflexively, only to see my first suspicions were correct: the pathway vanished without someone on it.

And, that's why I was risking my sanity, my life, to—

SCREEEEEECH!!!

"Isaac!" the Master called from somewhere near the grand staircase. It wasn't a particularly annoyed or evil sort of call, just him finding out where I was.

"Coming, Master!" I called back. I hurriedly saved the text and picture from my sister and shoved the phone in my pocket. My heart beat quickly as I made my way from the kitchen to the staircase. Maybe he was annoyed, and found out that I had attempted getting into whatever was above the ballroom last night. Though the experience seemed dream-like… nothing had really made sense the past couple weeks.

I only tripped over myself twice hopping up the stairs.

"Isaac, I wanted you to come, not kill yourself." Master said with amusement, trying to cover up his chuckle. When I looked up at him after catching my breath, I could see his features lit with actual color. Like, he actually had a complexion that wasn't gray. I was taken aback by how human he looked.

I disregarded it. Master had been weird for the couple years I'd been here. Increasingly. This was probably no exception.

"You're troubled." Master stated. It was not a question.

"Yes." I figured there was no use lying to the man. One: I sucked at lying in general, and two: he was like a human—or non-human—lie detector. I knew this.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked, motioning for me to follow him down the stairs to the dining room for lunch. I nearly laughed at the twentieth century manners Master had, even though I had long outgrown the urge.

I took a deep breath and began. "You're looking well."

"Indeed, I've been working on things to cure my condition. I'm going to be able to go out and about more." Master looked at me. "Maybe a few more days a week."

I nodded. "That's great."

"But that's not all that's troubling you."

I groaned, not knowing how to broach this subject. I could feel Master's inquisitive and questioning gaze on me. "My sister wants to come for a visit."

Master inhaled sharply. "Very few people see my manor." He settled with in a tight voice.

"I know." I said, biting lip my lip.

We walked through the cold, richly furnished hallways in a tense silence for an innumerable amount of time. I was beginning to think Master was contemplating my murder with the looks he was glancing at me with.

"Why?" Master asked shortly.

"Our parents just got into a big fight. Enough to get the police involved." I said quietly. "Mom and Dad are absolutely murderous right now, and the police think my sister should go somewhere else until they can sort this all out."

"She asked you to stay here?" Master asked impassively.

"No. She wanted me to pass on the request to you." I repeated what my sister told me in her text this morning.

Master seemed genuinely surprised, but pleased. "She knows who to ask."

I nodded, a bud of hope growing in the pit of my stomach. Maybe Master would allow it.

"How long until the police think it will be safe for her?"

"A few months, at least."

Master went into a thoughtful silence again, and I followed his lead coming into the dining room. On the long table were entrées of every type. Pasta, meats, pastries, pies, fruits and breads. All prepared by no one.

This was one of the things that had me suspicious. I had never seen any chefs in the kitchen preparing meals, though at 8 a.m., 12 p.m., and 7 p.m. every day, the table was set with more food than my entire family could eat in a week.

Master sat down at the head of the table, me to his right, and tucked his napkin into his collar—like a twentieth century man. Really, what era did he grow up in?

"You speak often of your sister. Very highly, too." Master said as he began filling his plate. "She must be a good person."

I nodded my head vigorously. "Yeah, she's the purest, greatest, best, kindest person I know."

"How old is she?"

"She's my twin—seventeen." I said, "Though she acts much older. We used to joke that she was born thirty and has been getting more middle-aged each year."

"She would be coming alone, I assume?"

"If that's code talk for 'how many people will see my castle', you can count on just her. We've never really been the social butterflies, and I highly doubt any of that has changed since I've seen her."

"She is very much like you, then?"

"Very." I nodded. "Though she loves to cook, so she'll be disappointed about all the food being prepared around here. She's a bookworm. I swear, she's read Wuthering Heights too many times than should be humanly possible."

Master laughed. "I guess it's good thing I have a large library."

I was about to look over the statement before I realized what it meant. "She can come?" I asked hopefully, suddenly wide-eyed and excited.

"Well, I don't see why not." Master shrugged and began to eat. I clamped down on the arms of my chair to keep from leaping out and hugging him, but I couldn't stop the smile that must have wrapped twice around my head at his statement. "But one more question..."

"Okay!" I acknowledged. Master chuckled at me enthusiasm.

"What is your sister's name?"

I thought for a second, wondering whether or not to introduce her name formally or casually.

"Bella. Isabella Swan."

A/N: There you go! Your second prompt for the night. (Check my new story [first chapter of Custody Problems] for full details, or go to my profile for a quick sum on why I've been out of writing for a while, and my plans for these prompts and my other stories.

—Kylie M. (kappykuo)