by Kobe Bryant
“Yeah, that,” Castor said in a tone that, at least to Pretia, indicated he had no idea what Vera was talking about. “And,” he continued, “there are seven temples to the seven gods. Of course there isn’t one to Hurell. Everyone knows that.”
Pretia breathed an inadvertent sigh of relief, although she already knew this.
“The temples are cool and everything,” Castor added, “but the absolute best place in Ecrof is Thinkers Palace. It’s so much better than that cruddy Temple of Dreams.”
“Where is it?” Nassos asked.
“When we get to the top of this hill, we’ll be at the entrance to the Panathletic Stadium, where the Tree of Ecrof is,” Castor explained loudly. “The palace is way up on the hill, looking down at everything.”
“He forgot about the Decision Woods.” Pretia was startled to hear Rovi’s voice. He hadn’t spoken since his fight with Castor on the ship. She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “When you reach the top of the path, you don’t get to the stadium. That’s farther west along the cliff. You get to the Decision Woods. Maybe Castor doesn’t know about that.”
“What’s the Decision Woods?” Adira asked.
“It’s a forest,” Rovi said. “Kind of like a maze. You have to figure out how to get through to reach the stadium and the rest of the campus.”
“Do you know how?” Pretia asked.
“No one knows,” Rovi said. “The forest changes all the time.”
Adira and Virgil kept asking Rovi questions, but he remained silent until they had all reached the top of the climb.
Rovi was right. When they stopped climbing, they weren’t standing at the entrance to the Panathletic Stadium as Castor had promised, but in front of a large, thick forest. Pretia snuck a look at Castor, who was now busy explaining that the stadium was just on the other side of the woods.
“But how do we get through them?” Nassos wondered.
It was a good question. Pretia shaded her eyes and peered into the trees. The forest was so dense and thick it seemed that there was no way through. Rovi didn’t hesitate. Without a word to the other students, he darted into the woods. Pretia watched him circle around to the right, taking an indirect path.
“There goes the Star Stealer,” Castor said.
A few of the Dreamers who had begun to follow stopped at the edge of the forest.
“He said the stadium was on the other side of the forest,” Pretia said. “Which means we have to go through.”
“Of course we have to go through,” Castor replied. “What else would we do? I just wouldn’t go the same way as Rovi Myrios.” And in an instant he darted into the woods, heading in a straight line through the center.
One by one, the recruits followed. Some entered cautiously, others like Nassos and Leo plunged straight ahead like Castor had done.
Pretia was uncertain what path to take. She and Vera were the only two left at the edge of the forest. “Race you, Princess,” Vera said. “One, two, three,” and off she went, heading in the same direction as Rovi.
Pretia took a different path from Rovi and the others. She turned left, hoping for a way around the thick trees. It was dark in the woods, and she instantly lost sight of the other recruits. She couldn’t even hear them as they made their way through the dense forest. After she’d been walking for a few minutes, it grew so dark that she kept tripping over roots, stumbling into branches, and getting tangled with swinging vines.
Pretia whirled around. She had lost her orientation. Was the cliff that led down to the beach behind her or ahead of her? Where had she started? Where was she headed? Her heart began to race. Her palms began to sweat. What if she couldn’t find her way out of the woods? What if—
She raced in one direction. Then in another. Finally, at a total loss, Pretia came to a stop. The trees were so thick she couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction. All she could hear was her racing, thumping heartbeat. She closed her eyes. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her panic. She tried to imagine a way through the woods. She tried to imagine that strange shadow self that had appeared when she’d played tag with the castle kids and when she’d raced Vera up the rigging, appearing and leading her to Ecrof.
She counted to twenty and opened her eyes. The forest seemed a little less scary. The trees weren’t as close together as she’d thought. Pretia took a few cautious steps in the direction she imagined was opposite to the cliffs. The trees grew less dense. And then a path appeared. It was narrow but clear and easily walkable. And in no time, Pretia was passing quickly through the woods with no difficulty.
She was relieved, of course. But something was nagging at her. It seemed too easy. And if not too easy, perhaps too boring. Was the challenge simply finding the path? Where was the fun in that? But then she noticed something. Off to the side was a tree with hanging vines, almost like rope swings.
Back at Castle Airim she’d spied on the castle kids swinging from ropes they’d attached to the largest of the fig trees. She’d watched them whoop and holler as they dared each other higher. They’d never once invited her to join. But this was her chance.
Before she could reconsider, Pretia left the path and climbed the tree. She grabbed hold of one of the vines and swung until she could grab the next and the next and then the next. It was exhilarating swinging through the vines. For once she felt free to use her grana. Soon she’d traveled the length of a tennis court, high above the forest. When she came to the last vine, she slid back down to the ground.
When she hit the ground, Pretia saw a long log, like a balance beam over a mossy undergrowth. She looked around but had lost the clear path she had been on earlier, so she had no choice but to climb on the log. It was round and slightly damp, which made balancing hard. But Pretia realized if she moved quickly enough, she could keep her balance.
When she jumped off the beam she came to a row of tree roots in the shape of hurdles. She needed a running start to clear them. Over and over and over she went, picking up momentum with each leap. As she cleared the last hurdle, Pretia accelerated forward, sprinting headlong through a cluster of trees and emerging at the mouth of a tunnel.
It was a moment before she understood what had happened. The tunnel was the entrance to the stadium. Pretia stepped through an archway that led to a long, shady corridor along which busts of former Epic champions stared out at her from the cool darkness. In the distance she could hear rumbling and what sounded like the Ecrof fight song.
Pretia kept moving through the tunnel, which sloped downward gently. The closer she got to the sliver of light at the end, the louder the Ecrof fight song grew. By the time she could see the tunnel exit, the fight song was so deafening that Pretia could barely hear her own thoughts. Her heart was racing with excitement and the fight song was echoing in her chest as she stepped out into the most magnificent stadium she’d ever seen.
She was standing on a running track. The stadium rose all around her—a bowl of white marble. It was smaller than the Athletos Stadium at Castle Airim. But the setting was breathtaking. The Ecrof stadium was built at the edge of a cliff, so the open end overlooked the endless sky and the sea below.
The building was in the classical style—marble benches instead of seats. There were no monitors, no lights or megaphones or speakers. There was just the stadium, the black oval track, and in the middle of the track, the Tree of Ecrof. Pretia had seen three of the Four Marvels of Epoca—the Winter Flame in the Winterlands, the River of Sand in the desert outside Phoenis, and of course the Forgotten Palace beneath Castle Airim. But nothing was as impressive as the Tree of Ecrof. It was the largest, most majestic tree Pretia had ever seen—a massive olive tree that reached well over a hundred feet into the air. The trunk, which was nearly twenty feet around, was gnarled and twisted, as if it had been shaped by the wind. Unlike most normal olive trees in Epoca, whose bark was dark and drab, the trunk of the Tree of
Ecrof was the color of buttered toast—a rich golden brown. The branches spread out in an enormous canopy thick with silvery-green leaves and dotted with small black fruits. Pretia had never seen a tree quite like it. It was almost too much to take in at once. She couldn’t wait to tell Anara all about it. At the thought of her loyal, devout nurse, her heart sank a little. It was a shame that Anara would never be able to see the wonders of Cora, which she held so close to her heart.
Sitting in the first rows of the stadium’s stone benches were the upperclassmen and several recruits who’d beat Pretia through the woods. They were divided according to house, the Realists in their blue silk tracksuits on one side and the Dreamers in their purple suits on the other. Most of the students were waving their house banners—brilliant purple Pegasus insignias and regal blue owls. Between them, on a long, raised dais placed on the field, was the faculty, all dressed in brilliant green silk. Each faculty member’s tracksuit had a ribbon on the right arm that signaled his or her house affiliation. In front of the dais where the faculty sat was a winners’ podium, the three pedestals painted gold, silver, and bronze accordingly.
Nassos had emerged from the tunnel just ahead of Pretia and was walking toward the tree, where Janos stood. When he reached the Head Trainer, the cheering from the stands momentarily stopped.
“Nassos Carthos. Welcome to Ecrof! Did you take the path or the obstacles?” Janos asked.
“The path,” Nassos replied.
The Realists all stood at once and began chanting “Realists rule” as Nassos moved to join their ranks. When he’d taken his seat, a small bald man rushed over and handed him a blue silk tracksuit that Nassos slipped on over his shorts and T-shirt.
Now Pretia approached her uncle. He put a hand on her shoulder and the cheering stopped so everyone could hear him ask the same question he’d just asked Nassos. “Pretia Praxis-Onera! Welcome to Ecrof. This is the Placement Ceremony. Now, did you take the path or the obstacles?”
Pretia winced as she saw the student body realize that she was the Princess of Epoca. Now both sides of the bleachers were whispering, staring, and pointing.
“Both,” Pretia said.
Confusion rippled through the stands. The teachers on the dais all started chattering at once.
“Did I make a mistake?” Pretia whispered to her uncle.
“Dreamers always take the obstacles and Realists the path,” Janos said. “No one has ever combined the two before.” He gave her a funny look.
“But you know who my parents are. Doesn’t it make sense what I did?”
“Yes,” Janos said slowly. “Yes, I guess it does.”
Pretia glanced over at the Realist bleachers in time to see Castor whisper something to Nassos. She was pretty certain she knew what it was. Demigen. And if not that—Dreamist or Realer or any other number of terms he used to describe her mixed parentage.
The teachers had stopped conferring and were now all looking at Janos.
“This is unusual,” Janos said, “but not unexpected given the unique circumstances of Pretia’s birth.”
Janos blew his whistle to silence the students. “Quiet,” he bellowed. “Since Pretia cannot represent both houses, for the purposes of her time at Ecrof, she will have to choose whether she wants to be a Dreamer or a Realist.”
“Do I really have to choose?” Pretia whispered to her uncle.
“Yes,” Janos said quietly. “And this will not be the last time you will need to decide who you want to be.”
Pretia glanced at the Dreamer bleachers and saw Rovi, Adira, Virgil, and Cyril sitting in the front row. Were these her friends? Were these kids her teammates? Then she looked over at the Realists. This time she saw the famous Julius Renovo sitting next to another athlete, Sintra Polis, whom she recognized from the last Epic Games. The Realists seemed to have a leg up on the Dreamers in terms of athletic talent. So it seemed foolish to Pretia to side with the Dreamers. After all, she was at Ecrof to compete.
But then her mind started to race. Competing, or at least competing well, meant using her grana. And that was something she was still determined not to do. She would let the Realists down. She would let her uncle down. She would give Castor more ammunition than he ever needed to taunt and tease her.
She felt Janos’s hand on her shoulder. “Choose, Pretia.”
“Dreamer,” she said.
Janos gave her a curious look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Pretia said.
“You’re certain?” That look remained in Janos’s eyes, probing and questioning.
“Did I make a mistake?”
“Of course not, Pretia. It’s just that you’ve always reminded me of the strongest woman I’ve ever met—my sister.”
At the thought of disappointing both her uncle and her mother with her decision, Pretia felt deflated. But Janos clapped her on the shoulder. “And this just goes to prove you are strong. You followed your heart. And if you chose Dreamer, so be it.”
“Sorry, Uncle,” Pretia said in a quiet voice. But her apology was drowned out as the Dreamers let out a massive cheer, welcoming her to their ranks. Once more the small bald man darted forward, carrying a tracksuit. This time it was royal purple and exactly Pretia’s size. She slipped it on over her Ecrof practice gear. The silk was as cool as a fast-flowing stream and as light as air. The tracksuit was the most magical garment Pretia had ever worn. She took her place on the stands between Rovi and Cyril.
She was torn away from admiring her new clothes when Vera Renovo emerged from the tunnel. She jogged over to Janos, the same cocky look on her face as always. She stared out over the bleachers, and Pretia detected a glimmer of annoyance when Vera noticed that Pretia had won their race through the obstacle course. But the look soon vanished when Janos announced her name.
“And our last but certainly not our least recruit, Vera Renovo! Welcome to the Placement Ceremony.” Janos had to bellow these words over the deafening cheer from the Realist benches. All the Realists, led by Julius Renovo, were on their feet, chanting Vera’s name and stomping in time.
Janos tried to quiet them. Once, twice, three times. Until at last, he blew his whistle.
“Did you take the path or the obstacles, Vera?”
Vera stood up proudly and looked him straight in the eye. “The obstacles,” she replied.
The stands fell silent. Pretia craned her neck to stare over at the Realists. Julius remained standing, but the expression on his face was one of shock and horror.
“Are you sure?” Janos asked.
“I took the obstacles,” Vera said. “The ropes, the hurdles, the high wire through the trees, the balance beam, the ladders. The path seemed boring.”
“All right, Vera,” Janos said in a strange voice.
“What happened? What did I do?”
“You only did what your nature led you to do,” Janos said.
Vera was staring at him with a confused look on her face.
“Only Dreamers take the obstacles. Realists take the path,” Janos explained.
“But I’m a Realist,” Vera said.
“Not anymore,” Janos said. “This is very unusual. You are our first Replacement in my time at Ecrof.”
“A Replacement?” Vera repeated.
“Yes, Vera. Go sit with the Dreamers.”
“What?” Vera cried.
“As I just explained, only Dreamers take the obstacles. True Realists always take the direct path. It’s a question of nature.”
“But I’m a Realist,” Vera shouted. “I’m from a Realist family. My brother is—”
“The Decision Woods never give us a wrong answer,” Janos said. “Now go.”
Pretia turned to look at the Realist camp again. She saw Julius Renovo, who had been standing since Vera approached the Tree of Ecrof, sit down, a look of revulsion on his face.
&nb
sp; “Please,” Vera implored. “Julius!” she called over to her brother. He didn’t reply. “Someone’s made a mistake.”
“Take your seat with the Dreamers, Vera Renovo,” Janos said. “Unconventional as this may appear, with the Dreamers is where you belong.”
She didn’t jog to the Dreamer bench, she walked, like her feet were dipped in lead. No one cheered. When the small bald man passed Vera her Dreamer tracksuit, she didn’t bother to put it on.
Pretia scooted over to make room for Vera. But Vera climbed to a high row, where she sat alone, her shoulders hunched. She hung her head and drove her fists into her thighs in anger.
Once all the recruits had been divided, Janos addressed them in his booming voice. “Now that you are no longer recruits but Ecrof’s youngest class, I welcome you at last. Serve your houses well and serve your school even better.” He clapped his hands. “And now on to the business of the training year.”
Pretia could feel the upperclassmen shifting in their seats. She turned and saw that some of the oldest Dreamers had clenched their jaws and narrowed their eyes in tense expectation.
“I know that most of you are eagerly waiting for me to announce who the House Captains will be for this year’s Field Days. But before I do that, please listen to the schedule of events and please refrain from cheers, jeers, or other commentary. Satis, the schedule, please.” The bald man handed her uncle a piece of rolled paper, which Janos unfurled. “Our first Field Day will be Realist Day, held in four months. Dreamer Field Day will be held to end the school year. Of course, only the house whose day it is will know the exact date in advance. And it will be up to that house to choose the track-and-field events for the competition. As most of you already know, it is our Ecrof tradition to focus our intramural competition around track events.”
Ripples of excitement and complaints passed through the students. Janos held up his hand.
“And now,” Janos said, “your captains for the year.” All around Pretia, students edged forward on the benches. “Athena Drago, Trainer of House Relia, who is your captain?” A tall, willowy woman with long blond hair and a face like an elegant bird stood up from the row of teachers.