by Kobe Bryant
Pretia stared at Rovi, then at the tree. “Sorry,” she said. “You guys will have to do it without me.”
“You’re going to let us all down,” Rovi pleaded. “What kind of ruler does that?”
“I’m not a ruler,” Pretia said. “And I am not competing, I’m doing my duty. I’m keeping you all safe. From me.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Rovi said.
The two friends stared at each other. Rovi blinked first. “Fine,” he said. “Have it your way. Be a disappointment.” And he went off to join the other Dreamer athletes, leaving Pretia to stand staring over the campus toward the Tree of Ecrof. A disappointment? Well, that was true. But revealing her dangerous grana would be worse. Then her parents would know. Everyone would know.
Pretia bit her lip. She hated thinking about her parents and what the revelation of her bad grana would do to them. Instead, she focused on the tree. It was ridiculous that anyone thought Rovi was hurting the tree. How could he be? What would he be doing? She shaded her eyes and squinted at the spindly black branches that were visible over the top of the Panathletic Stadium. Sure, they looked terrible, but that was certainly not Rovi’s fault. It was simply absurd for anyone to think so, that he had somehow poisoned the tree, turned it black, made it look like—
Pretia’s mouth fell open. It looked just like the image in her Grana Book. She raced up the stairs to her bedroom and grabbed the book. She found the picture that she’d chosen to explain her time at Ecrof on her first day in Granology and stared at the familiar images of the mirrored forests—the green one growing right side up and the reflected black copy. She closed her eyes. Two forests. Two sides to her. Dreamer. Realist. Dark and light. Two ways to do everything. Two sides to everything. It still didn’t make sense.
She sighed. And just like Saana had suggested, she relaxed into the image almost involuntarily. She needed to try an alternative method of interpretation. She needed to rethink her thinking.
She had thought the trees represented her. But what if that was wrong? Pretia tried to reconfigure her thoughts. What else could they be?
She tried to make her mind blank. That didn’t work. She tried to narrow her focus to different elements of the image: the water, the moon, the trees.
The trees!
What if the trees didn’t actually represent her? What if the trees were Ecrof, instead? Now, that made sense. The school’s mascot was a tree.
Pretia shifted her focus from the healthy trees to their dark reflection in the water.
What if there was something dark in the trees?
She opened her eyes. Of course! First, the branch that hit Castor. Then the leaf tornado. Then Leo, who was smothered by leaves. It wasn’t just the Tree of Ecrof—all the trees were sick. The trees were harming the students.
Pretia placed a hand on her book. She closed her eyes. She could see the image perfectly in her mind. She knew what it meant. For the first time, she knew. And for a moment, she forgot that her secret was no longer a secret. She forgot about her cursed grana.
She was as sure of her interpretation of the image in her book as she was of anything else in her life. And that realization felt incredible. She felt as if she was on the verge of something important. She let her mind relax into the remembered picture as the certainty washed over her. The trees were harming the students. There was no doubt. She wished more than anything in the world that Anara was there so she could share her interpretation. She had a feeling her nurse would have been extremely proud of her.
She opened the book one more time and looked at the image. Only two small questions remained. What did the moons in the picture mean and what did any of this have to do with her?
22
ROVI
THE VISION
Rovi raced around the track as fast as he could, then pulled up short and limped across the finish line, a stitch in his side. He had taken to putting in extra practice before breakfast so that he would excel on Field Day.
Cassandra had selected a team of fifteen athletes, including Vera and Rovi, for Dreamer Field Day. Pretia’s spot had gone to a fourth-year boy from Helios who had finished eleventh at Epic Elite trials. The House Captain worked them hard. Every morning for the week leading up to Field Day, Cassandra had her team meet behind the Temple of Dreams before dawn to train in secret. She didn’t want the Realists getting word of the events they had chosen until the last possible minute.
Cassandra had assigned Rovi to run the steeplechase. It was a strange event—a sort of obstacle course with twenty-eight barrier jumps and seven water jumps, something Rovi had never practiced before. Of course, he knew the reason he’d been chosen for steeplechase—his time as a Star Stealer, when he’d dodged obstacle after obstacle from the Alexandrine Market, through the Upper City, and finally into the mazelike Lower City of Phoenis, had prepared him well.
By the time the breakfast horn sounded, he had already put in two hard hours in the woods behind the Temple of Dreams and in the temple’s private gym. He raced to the cafeteria, almost too exhausted to fill his tray and lift his fork before the next horn sounded, telling the students to get to their first class.
Rovi shoved two sausages in his mouth before the horn to start class sounded, telling him he was late to Visualization. Then, with heavy legs, he hurried down the hill to the Halls of Process. As usual, he took the long way around, staying as far as he could from the entrance to the stadium. Even so, Castor was already leaning out the window of the classroom, watching him.
“You’re late, Tree Killer,” Castor taunted. “You were trying to finish the tree off once and for all, huh? If that tree dies, I don’t think you’ll be coming to Ecrof next year.”
“That’s enough,” Satis cautioned.
Castor shrugged, then lowered his voice so only Rovi could hear as he passed: Tree Killer.
“All right,” Satis said. “Today we are going to work on sustained visualization. As you know, concentration is the ability to think about a single thing for a prolonged period of time. The average person can only concentrate for ten minutes before the outside world breaks in.”
“I can do twenty,” Vera called.
“Show-off,” Castor hissed.
Satis waved an arm at both of them to settle down. “Now,” he said, “what you are going to do is spend the first half of class thinking about a single thing. Every time you break concentration, your timer will reset to zero and you’ll start over again.”
“What are we supposed to think about?” Virgil asked.
“Well, anything you can hold in your mind comfortably,” Satis said.
Virgil had his hand in the air again. “That’s it? Just concentrate?”
“Well,” Satis said, “there is more. The true test of focus is to be able to stay in the zone while outside forces are trying to distract you. So everyone will need a partner.” He held up the Mind Sharers.
Adira and Virgil slapped hands, as did Nassos and Castor.
“Not so fast,” Satis said. “It’s easy to concentrate when your partner is on your side. What we need to do is test your strength when someone is trying to distract you. So everyone team up with someone from the opposite house.”
A chorus of groans rippled through the room. Begrudgingly, Cyril and Virgil formed a team. Nassos went with Adira. Eventually, everyone had paired up but Pretia, Castor, and Rovi.
“Castor, you go with Rovi,” Satis said. “I’ll work with Pretia.”
Rovi’s heart sank. But he didn’t have time to object before Satis was giving them further instruction. “Choose who will go first. Then both partners must take hold of the batons with both hands. Once you are able to see your partner’s vision, your timer will start. When that vision breaks, hit the timer, and the next person is up. Every time the visualization breaks, you switch. The timer will record who lasts the longest.”<
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Castor took a set of sticks from Satis and joined Rovi at his table. Rovi hesitated before taking the sticks. “Come on,” Castor said. “I’m not getting penalty laps because you’re lazy.”
Rovi rolled his eyes.
“It’s not like I actually want to see what’s inside the mind of a Star Stealer.”
“I’m not a Star Stealer,” Rovi said.
“Tree Killer, then,” Castor said.
Rovi tensed his jaw, then grabbed his end of the sticks so hard he nearly pulled Castor out of his chair.
“Watch it,” Castor said. “I’m going first.”
Vibrating with anger, Rovi held the sticks until he felt Castor’s vision being transmitted into his mind. It was a podium in a large stadium, a more impressive stadium than Rovi had ever seen before. Rovi recognized it from pictures—the stadium at Castle Airim where the Epic Games were held. In fact, Castor was visualizing the Epic Games. Rovi laughed. The vision flickered. Rovi laughed again. Once more, Castor’s vision flickered, but it didn’t disappear.
Then Rovi watched as Castor approached the podium. What was that on his head? Was it a crown? Rovi heard Castor’s name announced as the winner. He watched Castor mount the podium and bow so an Epic Medal could be placed around his neck.
“In your dreams,” Rovi snickered.
The vision broke. The timer buzzed. Four minutes. Not bad.
“Okay, Tree Killer,” Castor said. “Let’s see what nonsense you imagine yourself doing.”
Rovi knew he had to keep it simple. A race. A simple race. A 100-meter race around the track at Ecrof.
Rovi took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He saw himself get in the starting blocks. On your mark, get set— Immediately he realized his mistake. The track wasn’t just any track—it circled the ailing Tree of Ecrof, the last thing Rovi wanted to visualize. Now his mind wasn’t clear. Tree Killer. He could hear Castor whispering under his breath. Rovi fought to ignore his partner’s voice. Go.
He took off. It was a field of one, just him racing around the track. He was running well.
Tree Killer. Tree Killer.
And then, instead of the track, something else flashed into Rovi’s mind—his father’s drawings. His father’s thousands of drawings. Pages and pages flashing before his eyes. A dead tree. He broke concentration and the timer went off. Two minutes.
“Not so good, Tree Killer,” Castor said.
Now it was Castor’s turn again. Once more, Rovi saw the same podium. He heard Castor’s name called as the winner. He saw Castor approach the podium. Rovi thought hard of some way to distract him. “Nice crown,” he said. “But shouldn’t that be Pretia’s?”
Castor’s vision didn’t flicker. One, two, three, four, five times Rovi watched him mount the podium and receive his medal. No matter what Rovi did to distract him, nothing had any effect.
Finally, Castor broke. The timer went off. Twelve minutes. A class record.
When Rovi opened his eyes, Castor had a nasty smile on his face. “I wouldn’t expect a Star Stealer to understand the way the royal family works,” he said. “But your friend Pretia will never wear the crown, because she doesn’t have grana. She’ll never rule Epoca.”
Rovi opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. As much as he wanted to defend her, he wouldn’t betray Pretia. “What are you waiting for?” Castor said. “Let’s see your dumb vision again.”
Rovi closed his eyes. He cleared his mind. Or he tried to.
“What’s the holdup, Tree Killer?” Castor said.
Rovi could see the starting blocks. He could almost see himself in them. He tried to imagine himself taking off.
“Let’s go, Tree Killer.”
He made his imaginary self take off. He tried to watch himself run down the track. But his father’s drawings kept flying into his mind. Over and over. And instead of seeing the track, he was seeing the Tree of Ecrof. He was hearing his father’s voice. He was seeing himself leave the track, running toward the tree. What was happening? Suddenly the tree burst into flames. He tried to stop the vision, but it was too late. It was perfectly clear. And Castor had seen.
He opened his eyes and dropped the sticks.
Castor was staring at him, goggle-eyed. “It’s true,” he gasped. “You really are trying to kill the Tree of Ecrof. I knew it.”
“No,” Rovi said. “Let me go again.” He grabbed the sticks and slammed his eyes shut. He concentrated so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He tried to bring the track into view. But there he was again, approaching the Tree of Ecrof with a burning torch. He was burning the tree. He was destroying it. He opened his eyes and dropped the sticks. The harder he tried not to think about killing the Tree of Ecrof, the more clearly he thought about it.
Three more times when he tried to visualize the track, all he could see was himself doing horrible things to the tree. Finally, Castor dropped the sticks. “Satis,” he said, raising his hands, “I’m uncomfortable with Rovi’s visions. Can I have another partner?”
“No,” Satis said. “You will continue to work in the groups you are assigned.”
“But, Satis,” Castor said, “Rovi’s visions are violent.”
At that, the entire class looked up.
“Violent?” Satis asked.
“He’s visualizing burning the Tree of Ecrof,” Castor said. “And he’s getting good at it. His last vision went for nearly fifteen minutes.”
Rovi hadn’t even thought to check the timer. He’d been working too hard to clear the vision from his mind. He’d let it go on for fifteen minutes!
“Rovi, is that true?” Satis asked, a distressed look on his face.
“Yes,” Rovi said quietly. “But it was an accident. I was trying not to think about the tree, but it didn’t work. I was—”
“Do you think you got your visualization talent from your father?” Castor interrupted. “You’re definitely as unstable as him.”
Rovi couldn’t help himself anymore. He picked up one of the batons and hurled it at Castor, hitting him squarely on the forehead. The stick clattered to the ground, and immediately, a trickle of blood blossomed on Castor’s forehead.
“Satis,” Castor cried.
Rovi didn’t hang around to hear the rest. He was on his feet and running as fast as he could to the Temple of Dreams. Was he as unstable as his father? Did he want to kill the Tree of Ecrof, so deep down he didn’t even know it?
The drawings in his father’s book flashed in front of his eyes: the sickly tree. The tree that looked like it wanted to strangle anyone who came near. The tree of death.
Maybe just looking at drawings of this tree was enough to make you lose your mind. Rovi certainly felt unstable. His mind was deserting him. He couldn’t get the image of both his father’s tree and himself killing the Tree of Ecrof out of his head. The harder he tried to banish the thought of either, the stronger they both grew.
Rovi got into bed and pulled the covers over his head, trying to drown out the thought of any tree at all.
His thoughts were racing. They were sprinting. They were making him sick to his stomach.
“Stop it!” Rovi screamed at the top of his lungs. “Stop!” He covered his eyes and squeezed them shut, but still he saw himself harming the beautiful tree, the symbol of all the good and strength in Ecrof. Had his father made him a monster? Or had he been born one?
All he knew was he was never going near that tree again. Never.
Rovi heard the hunting horns blaring, signaling the passing of the school day. He’d missed foundational training. He’d missed lunch. Just before dinner, there was a tap at his door.
“Go away!” Rovi shouted.
The knocking persisted.
“Go away,” Rovi insisted.
Before he could say it again, Pretia let herself in.
“I though
t you were mad at me,” Rovi said.
“I am.”
“I’m sorry,” Rovi said. “I should never have asked you to use your grana if you didn’t want to. Especially for something as stupid as a Field Day.”
“When did you start thinking Field Day is stupid?”
Rovi shrugged. “I just did, that’s all. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I wanted to see if you’re okay.”
“Because I threw a Mind Sharer?”
Pretia shook her head. “Well, there’s something else. Castor told Satis and Janos that you shouldn’t be allowed to compete in Dreamer Field Day because you’re a danger to the school. I see what you’re up against.”
Rovi tossed his pillow across the room. How much worse could things get?
“Don’t worry,” Pretia said. “I heard Cassandra talking to Cleopatra Volis. As far as the Dreamers are concerned, you’re on the team.”
Rovi sat up in bed. “Pretia,” he said. “What if I’m actually doing something to the tree?”
“But you’re not.”
“How can you be so sure?” Rovi asked.
Pretia took a deep breath. “I don’t think anyone’s harming the tree,” she said. “I think the tree is harming us.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Rovi said.
“Is it?” Pretia opened her Grana Book. “Look,” she said. She turned to the image she’d revealed on the first day of Granology. Rovi looked down at the page, instantly remembering the mirror-image forest—the green one growing straight up and its black reflection in the water. “I’ve been trying to figure this out since we came to Ecrof,” Pretia said. “We were supposed to be looking for an answer to what our first year at Ecrof would be like, right? Well, I couldn’t make sense of it. I kept thinking that the two forests were my heritage; you know, half Dreamer and half Realist.”
“And that’s not right?” Rovi said.
“Maybe,” Pretia said. “But it didn’t feel right. Maybe it’s more literal than that.”