LITMIR.BIZ

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tossed him off the towering cliffs of Epoca into the churning sea below.”

      Pretia was wide awake now. “So there’s no temple to Hurell on Cora?”

      “That’s what the stories say,” Anara said. “Someone would need an impressive reserve of grana to rebuild it—a godly reserve. But Hurell has no need for a temple. Because as long as no one prays to him, he cannot return. And since praying to him is forbidden, he will remain apart from our world.” Now Anara smiled sadly. “So few people pray to the remaining gods anymore these days. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t still with us. Remember that.”

      Before Pretia could ask any more questions, she heard her father’s voice bellowing down the phonopipes, summoning her to the Grand Atrium.

      Quickly Anara pulled her out of bed. “Hurry, Pretia,” she said. “We’ve spent too much time on the myths and legends. You don’t want to miss the ship to Cora.”

      The sun was already over the cliffs when Pretia and her parents arrived at the gates to Castle Airim. A solar van was waiting, loaded with her bags. She wore her golden Grana Gleams and carried a small backpack with her Grana Book. A castle porter swung the gates open.

      She glanced into the van and saw that Janos and Castor were already inside.

      “This is where we leave you,” King Airos said. “Listen to your uncle and be patient with yourself. All good things will happen in time.”

      Pretia glanced at her mother, who wore an anxious expression.

      “You mean like my grana?” Pretia asked.

      Queen Helena kissed her on the cheek. “You are exceptional, Pretia,” she said. But the worried look hadn’t left her eyes.

      Pretia hesitated. Maybe if she told her mother the truth about her grana, that anxious expression would disappear. Maybe it would be that easy. But she couldn’t. If she knew the truth about her daughter’s grana, it would make Queen Helena feel worse than she already did.

      The queen cupped Pretia’s cheek in her hand. Her worried look had turned to sadness. “First my sister and now you,” she said. “One by one, they leave.”

      Pretia and her father locked eyes. The queen only ever mentioned Syspara in moments of extreme despair. Her sister’s disappearance was too painful for her to discuss.

      “Mama,” Pretia said brightly, “I’m just going away for a little while. It’s not permanent. It’s only school!”

      “I know,” the queen replied. “I know. But I won’t hear from you for nine months.”

      “I’ll be with Uncle Janos,” Pretia said. “It’s not like I’m running away with strangers.”

      At the mention of her brother’s name, Queen Helena smiled. “That does give me comfort. And perhaps he will break with tradition and keep me updated on how you are doing from time to time.”

      “Mama,” Pretia urged, “I don’t want to be treated differently from the other students.”

      “But you’re not just any student,” Queen Helena said.

      “From tomorrow on, I am,” Pretia insisted. “Please.”

      “Okay,” her mother replied, kissing her on the head.

      The driver honked his horn.

      “And it’s only for nine months,” Pretia said. “I’ll be back before you know it.” She flung her arms around her mother one last time and let herself be hugged tightly. Then she walked through the gates and got into the van.

      The van began the long, slow descent from the castle to the harbor. The road was twisty and on a particularly sharp turn, one of Pretia’s duffel bags slid forward, knocking Castor on the head. “Packed enough, Pretia?” Castor taunted. “Or did your babysitter do it for you?”

      “Anara is not just a babysitter,” Pretia snapped.

      “Right,” Castor said, “she’s a royal nurse. Well, when you get to Ecrof you’re not going to be a princess anymore. You’re just going to be normal, boring Pretia.”

      “Fine,” Pretia said, and felt a swell of hope. That was exactly what she wanted.

      The sun was a golden orb hanging in the perfect blue sky when the van reached the harbor. A group of kids was racing around the dock. When the van pulled up, the kids stopped and watched with interest as Janos, Pretia, and Castor emerged.

      At the end of the dock, a ship was bobbing in the water. Instead of one of the newer hydrosolar boats that could speed around the coast of Ecrof and up to the Rhodan Islands in record time, it was an old-fashioned sailing vessel with three sails and a spinnaker flying Ecrof’s green and gold colors. Each of the sails was printed with a giant image of the famous Tree of Ecrof, the oldest tree in all of Epoca, the school’s cherished mascot.

      Janos blew his whistle and the kids assembled in front of him, divided up by house affiliation: Dreamers to the left, Realists to the right. Pretia and Castor slipped into their ranks but kept their distance from one another. Castor stood with the Realists and Pretia hovered at the back of the group, standing between the camps, uncertain of which side to choose.

      “Welcome, Ecrof recruits,” Janos said. “This is perhaps the most diverse group to enter Ecrof. We have a fisherman’s son, the son of a decorated gymnast, the sister of a current Epic Champion, a former Star Stealer. We have the daughter of a scientist, the son of an artist, and even two members of the royal family. But all of these differences are beside the point. Because now you are all the same. Your names were discovered on this year’s Scrolls of Ecrof. You are now Ecrof recruits. The girls and boys surrounding you are going to be your best friends and your fiercest competitors for the next seven years. They will see you through hard times and glorious ones. Together you will learn, you will compete, and you will master your grana.”

      “And,” Pretia heard Castor whisper to the Realist from the Rhodan Islands next to him, “we have my famous cousin, Pretia, who is only here because of who her parents are.”

      The kids all swiveled their heads, trying to get a look at their new classmates. Pretia was pretty certain when their eyes landed on her they were seeing one thing only—princess.

      “Now,” Janos continued, gesturing to the ship bobbing in the turquoise sea behind him, “this is your first taste of Ecrof tradition. You have traveled to our capital city from all over Epoca, some of you for several days. You have said goodbye to your friends and families. You will not see or hear from them for nine months. Everything that goes on in Ecrof is a secret. No news in and no news out.” Janos looked at each of the recruits in turn. “Now you will get on the famous Ecrof ship. For two thousand years, since the gods graced us with grana and departed their earthly home of Cora, a ship like this one has been taking recruits to the island of Cora itself, the home of our academy. The location of the island is a secret. Only three boat captains in all of Epoca know how to get there.”

      Pretia heard a low groan and turned to see the small boy standing next to her clutching his stomach. “Before we board, there is one more Ecrof tradition we must honor.” Janos blew the whistle that dangled from a cord around his neck, and two deckhands rushed off the ship wheeling a cart loaded with bags. “Your official Ecrof uniforms,” Janos said.

      A cheer burst out from the recruits. One by one, Janos summoned them forward. There were seventeen in all, eight Dreamers, eight Realists, and Pretia. Some looked nervous as they approached their imposing Head Trainer, others crossed the dock like they were already Epic Champions.

      Sometimes it was easy to tell what part of the Kingdom of Epoca they came from. The kids from Phoenis, across the sea in the Sandlands region, looked not all that different from Pretia, with dark olive skin and almond-shaped eyes. The recruits from the Rhodan Islands had fair hair and dark eyes. And the children from Helios, capital of Epoca, near Castle Airim, were easily spotted by their curly red locks. There was a Dreamer girl who wore the traditional headscarf

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