Prologue:

Once upon a time hundreds of years ago French explorers populated a small area at the South of France. About half the size of Monaco the monarchy of Sinclair was created. Here for many years the Byron family ruled the throne of this small country. But due to the weakening of each heir in his or her judgments a group lead by Ross Royall set about to turn the monarchy into a democratic republic.

Because of this plan, the last heir to the throne, Liana Charmaine Byron was taken to the mostly English village of Windsor. Situated on the very coast it was a small town made up mostly or English fisherman. There in a house called Baynor Manor she was executed and buried and most outside Windsor have no idea where she went. Only legends exist. For instance the key to the manor was supposedly thrown into a music box that has no record of ever existing in the first place.

At the very beginning of the 1800s the Hamlin family bought Baynor Manor and lived there until the death of Percy Hamlin. The house was to go to his oldest daughter Geneva Hamlin, sister of Fay Hamlin but she married Andre Chandler and the two moved farther up coast to Hastings. There they had a daughter Lorraine and a daughter Ember. The family lived there until recently when the Geneva, Andre and Lorraine were killed in a car crash.

Now the town Sinclair sits cut off from most technology. The country itself is in disrepair for it has been ravaged by a series of civil wars amongst the population. It has not been proven but most say the residents of Sinclair show signs of witchcraft and other strange attributes. But one thing seems for sure; the population of the country needs a leader again.

Chapter 1

Besides the odd set of photographs there was nothing in the room to remind Ember Chandler about her family. From somewhere deep inside a nagging feeling made her think her Aunt Fay had made the room like this. No signs of the family who had just died one day in a car crash, no sings of her old self.

I have changed, she told her reflection a month later on the first day of school. Her cheeks were unusually red today, making her pale face and freckles stood out even more. Her blue eyes were buried beneath her mascara, which was now almost always waterproof. Her hair, which she normally bothered to carefully brush to maintain curls, was now frizzed and stuck out about her face.

Slowly she picked up her bag and threw it over her shoulder. With one last look she checked that all her memories were tucked away. Fay didn't like her leaving out her mother's things. Satisfied she turned off the light and walked away.

The house was nothing like the one she had known. While her old house had been comfortable and full of warm colors Fay's was large and cold. The gray stonewalls made it feel like a dungeon, as if people had died here. She didn't like to think about that but alone at night with the wind howling it felt so.

This town was nothing like Hastings. This town was older. Not to mention at times it felt like the secrets of the past kept its residents from living normal lives. But nothing had happened here so what could possibly haunt the town? Was it the old magic running its course? But that hadn't made Hastings feel dead. Maybe it was all in her head.

Down the hall she crept until she reached the kitchen. A huge cast iron stove stood in the corner, glooming the kitchen. At the head of small deep mahogany table sat Fay. Her blonde hair was exactly like Lorraine's had been but Fay kept hers in a bun at the nape of her neck rather than braided neatly. Her aunt looked tired as if the strain of the town was getting to her. A cup of what looked like coffee sat in front of her. But Ember knew it was actually a cup of ginger herbs, to strengthen her magic.

"How did you sleep?" Ember replied she had slept fine. " Are you nervous about school?"

She shook her head. Then without really considering she poured a cup of ginger for herself. Her mother had always told her and Lorraine not to drink that; the same other's told their kids not to drink coffee. But today, who knew, she might need a pick me up.

"You'll like this school. It's a very good one. It's old and traditional with emphasis on magic. Just the way it should be. You'll take math, English, French, history and magic. How far are you in your education of magic? What level are you at?"

"Siren," she answered.

There were four levels of magic in Sinclair. There was wizard/witch, siren, mage, and prestige. People were extremely lucky to make mage let alone prestige. Many kids left school as a siren though many left it as a witch. But from what she knew her mother had been a prestige. Fay herself was a mage, if her memory was correct.

"You're halfway there. Aren't most kids your age only witches?" Ember hadn't known anyone in Hastings who was a witch but she nodded anyway. Fay was easier to get along with when you tired not to contradict her.

"I better get going," she said. Either Fay didn't know she had ten minutes left or she didn't care. Ember hoped it was the first one.

Hurriedly she picked up her bag and proceeded down the walkway. Neat bushes and trees, winding down the long drive, framed the path. As she looked behind her she saw the huge gray house, covered in ivy with thick paneled windows. It looked foreboding.

Then again it was nothing compared to the large house erected on the hill a good distance away. Baynor, it was called. Either way it was tall with shuttered windows and overgrown with plants. Whoever owned it was certainly neglecting its care.

Down the street she continued, going past old English houses with just a touch of French architecture. Everything was so old here, so sacred. The leaves moving through the hedges and over lawns seemed to keep the time standing still. It seemed that Windsor was truly frozen.