The Tree of Ecrof

by Kobe Bryant

  “Uncle Janos,” she called with the last of her strength. “Uncle Janos?”

  There was movement in the back of the quarters. A door opened, briefly showing Pretia a roaring fire lighting up what must be Janos’s bedroom. Her uncle stepped out, shut the door behind him, and rushed to Pretia’s side.

  She fell into his arms, pressing her face into his rich blue dressing gown.

  Janos pressed his powerful hands on her shoulders and pulled her away from him. “What is wrong, favorite niece? It’s very early. What are you doing awake?”

  “The tree—the temple. My grana!” The story came tumbling out so erratically that Pretia had to start over several times before any of it made sense to her or to Janos. And once she had told it clearly, Janos made her start over from the beginning and repeat everything.

  When she was done, he looked at her with a terrified expression. “What if something had happened to you?” he said. “What if you had completely lost your grana, or worse?”

  “But I didn’t,” Pretia said. “I used my grana.”

  “Which means you had it all along,” Janos said. “Why were you hiding it?”

  Pretia took a deep breath. Suddenly the adrenaline that had been driving her since she’d destroyed the tree seemed to abandon her. “That’s a complicated story, Uncle. But I thought my grana was cursed. The first time I used it I—” She stopped. It was difficult to admit what she’d done.

  “You what?”

  Pretia looked down at her lap. “I stepped out of myself and I accidentally pushed one of the castle kids. He broke his arm. I hurt him, so I thought my grana was bad. Wrong, somehow.”

  Janos looked stunned. “The first time you used your grana you stepped out of yourself?”

  Pretia nodded. “It’s supposed to be impossible, right?”

  Her uncle took a deep breath. “That’s what most people say. But I’ve seen it done once before.”

  “By Rovi’s dad?”

  “No, Pretia, not through the use of some silly machine. For real.”

  “Who—” Pretia began.

  Janos placed his hands on her shoulders. “By your aunt Syspara,” he said. “But that is a story for another time. All I can tell you now is that your grana is not cursed, but it’s very powerful. And you will have to work very hard to learn to control it.”

  Pretia couldn’t stop the smile that erupted on her face.

  Janos gave her shoulders a squeeze. “And what’s more, you saved the school. You’re not just a champion, Niece, you’re a hero. You are a truly exceptional child.” But then Janos’s face clouded. “Although what you did was brave, it was also foolish,” he said. “You put yourself in grave danger. And I would never be able to forgive myself if something had happened to you.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “I’m so tired,” she said, staggering to her feet. “I’m so—”

  Janos led her to a pile of blue velvet cushions. “Sleep,” he said. “You’ve earned it. You, Pretia, will be the greatest leader Epoca has ever had. You . . .”

  But Pretia didn’t hear the rest. Her eyes were closed. And just before she fell asleep, she finally fully understood the image in her Grana Book. The moons had continued to trouble her. But now she knew—they were her grana, in the two different directions it could have gone. One powerful and luminescent, the other on the verge of being snuffed out forever.

  28

  ROVI

  THE RACE

  Rovi was back in Phoenis, under the bridge. He could hear the muddy river slipping by and the first horn announcing the market was open.

  “Rovi!”

  Rovi rolled over, swatting away Issa’s arm.

  “Rovi!”

  “Go away,” he moaned. It was a sacred code among Star Stealers never to wake each other up except in the case of grave danger. They all knew how precious sleep was, especially in their living conditions. If someone was managing to sleep despite the heat and noise, he should be left to do so.

  “Rovi!” Issa had grabbed Rovi by the arms and was pulling him upright.

  “Issa, stop!” Rovi said, shaking free. He opened his eyes. He was face-to-face not with Issa, leader of the Star Stealers, but Vera. He was in his room in Ecrof. The sun was shining through the window. The room was cool. The sheets and pillows were clean and fresh.

  “Rovi,” Vera said, “you’ve been asleep all day.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Dinner just finished,” she said.

  At the word dinner, Rovi’s stomach grumbled. “I need food,” he said, swinging his legs out of bed.

  “Wait,” Vera said, pulling him back. “There’s something I need to show you. We can eat later. Get dressed.”

  “But I’m hungry,” Rovi said.

  “Trust me,” Vera said.

  The excited edge in her voice made Rovi willing to do what she said. He pulled on his Grana Gleams and followed Vera out of the Temple of Dreams. She set a brisk pace so he didn’t even have time to give the vending machines a longing glance before they were out the door, heading down the hill, in the direction of the Panathletic Stadium.

  When Rovi figured out where they were headed, he stopped. “Wait, Vera, no.” He didn’t want to go anywhere near the Tree of Ecrof.

  “Come on,” Vera said, yanking his arm.

  Reluctantly, he followed. Vera was sprinting now, dragging Rovi along with her. Together they raced through the entrance to the stadium. Without warning, Vera stopped. Rovi stumbled, tripped, and hit the ground. “Vera! What—” But the words caught in his mouth. Because right in front of him was the Tree of Ecrof in all its colorful glory.

  “The tree,” Rovi gasped.

  It was healthy. In fact, it looked even more radiant than it had when they’d arrived at Ecrof many months ago. The leaves were glittering green, reflecting the bright sun overhead. The branches looked strong and solid—a rich golden-brown color.

  “I can’t believe it,” Rovi said. The overnight transformation was miraculous.

  “We did that,” Vera said proudly.

  Rovi rushed to the base of the tree. He stomped on the ground, trying to find any sign of the black rot. The ground was solid, perfect, as if it had never been sick in the first place.

  “We did this,” Vera repeated. “And there’s more. I saw Julius last night. He recognized me. He’s getting better.”

  “Really?” Rovi said.

  “He stood up and walked around. His grana is returning.”

  “That purple-and-blue explosion,” Rovi said. “Pretia was right.”

  “Exactly,” Vera said. “That was the grana returning from the tree.”

  “Wow, we need to tell her.” Rovi looked around. “Where is she, anyway?”

  “Satis told me she spent the night in her uncle’s quarters,” Vera said.

  “She’s probably exhausted,” Rovi said. “I mean, she almost lost her grana.” An involuntary shudder passed through him as he remembered Pretia trapped in the tree, fading in and out of consciousness. And then he remembered the painful realization that had hit him in front of the underground tree in the cavern. His father hadn’t lost his mind. The strangler fig had stolen part of his grana. That was the change. That’s why Pallas Myrios had never been the same.

  “There you are!”

  Rovi and Vera turned, startled by another voice in the stadium. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Cassandra was rushing toward them. She was dressed as she had been the day before, in her head-to-toe Dreamers competition kit.

  “Where have you two been?” Cassandra asked. She sounded exasperated.

  “Nowhere,” Rovi and Vera said in unison.

  “I was starting to panic.”

  “Why?” Rovi asked.

  Their House Captain gave them a funny look. “Well, anyway,” she said.
“As you can see, the Tree of Ecrof somehow got better overnight, which means we are going to finish yesterday’s Field Day this evening.”

  “Tonight?” Rovi said.

  “Janos’s orders. He says we need to redo the steeplechase.” She looked at Rovi. “I went to the TheraCenter to check on you last night, but you were gone.”

  “Yeah,” Rovi said, “sorry about that. I feel better.”

  Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “How much better?”

  “I’m fine,” Rovi said, holding up the wrist that the Mineral Sleeve had healed. “See?”

  His House Captain stepped forward and examined his wrist. “So your wrist was like this yesterday?” she asked. “And you stayed in the TheraCenter?”

  “I didn’t want to risk it,” Rovi said.

  “Rovi—” Cassandra began in an annoyed tone.

  “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Vera said. “The steeplechase was basically canceled.”

  Cassandra looked from one of them to the other. “I’m not sure what’s up with you two, but listen up. We are two points behind the Realists. If we get first and second place, we can win. I want you both to run. Are you up for it?”

  “Yes,” Rovi said eagerly. “Totally.”

  “Okay,” Cassandra said. “And I expect you both to make that podium. Now get prepared.” And without another word, she left them in the stadium.

  “So, Vera,” Rovi said, “now can I eat something? Since I’m going to beat you on the podium and all.”

  “In your dreams,” Vera said. “But since I want to win fair and square, we can’t have you passing out. Let’s get you some food.”

  They raced back to the Temple of Dreams and headed straight for the cafeteria. In no time, Rovi was seated in front of a plate of honey chicken, fennel sausage, and pistachio cakes. He finished three entire plates before he felt the familiar ache in his stomach that told him he’d eaten enough.

  All around him, the temple was buzzing with Dreamers getting ready for the final event. A few kids patted Rovi on the back and wished him luck. Others left him alone, clearly worried that they might jinx him.

  Adira and Virgil both gave him hugs and chanted, “You can do it, Star Stealer!”

  “Hey,” Rovi said.

  “Sorry,” Adira muttered.

  “That’s okay. I guess I’ll always be part Star Stealer.” Rovi beamed, suddenly proud of his old life back in Phoenis. It had given him the skills he knew he would need to win the steeplechase. He was going to win the Field Day for the Dreamers. No more was he the son of the Tree Killer. He knew his father was a hero, and that’s all that mattered. And even better, he was a hero, too. He’d saved the Tree of Ecrof. If only Pallas Myrios could have known.

  Now he knew what the image in his Grana Book meant—the picture of the two snow-covered mountains and the smaller, greener hill. His parents had expected him to do something great. They guessed that even before he was born. They’d made him this book and they let him know that they were always watching over him. They were here, somewhere, on Cora, even if it was only in his heart. He understood the entire picture now. The dead flowers were the past and the trio of birds—that was him, Vera, and Pretia. The three of them were bonded together, embarking on a new start.

  He ran his fingers over the two snowy mountains. Today, he would race for his parents.

  A special hunting horn blared across campus, summoning the students down to the track. Since there was only one event, there would be no feast, just a race, plain and simple.

  Rovi joined the throng of Dreamers heading for the stadium. He wore his original Grana Gleams, the ones he had stolen at the market, the ones that reminded him of who he was and where he came from. They would bring him victory.

  Vera was at his side. They walked in silence, trying not to address the fact that although they both wanted to win for the Dreamers, they also wanted to beat each other.

  But their silence was interrupted at the entrance to the stadium, where Pretia was waiting. The minute she saw Rovi and Vera, she rushed over to them and flung her arms around them both at once.

  “Careful, Pretia,” Adira said, who was walking right behind them. “You don’t want to hurt our runners.”

  “Pretia!” Rovi exclaimed. “How are you?” He knew he was staring at her. But he couldn’t help himself.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I slept forever.”

  “And your grana . . .” Rovi began.

  “The same,” Pretia said. “Or maybe better. Now that I used it, it seems stronger.”

  Vera was giving her a curious look. “Stronger?”

  “I can’t describe it,” Pretia said. “It’s just a feeling I have.”

  “Hey, look, it’s the princess and her misfit crew.” Rovi turned at the sound of Castor’s voice. “Don’t block the entrance.”

  “Shut up, Castor,” Pretia said. “My friends are going to win the day for the Dreamers.”

  “I’m not holding my breath,” he said, barreling past with his Realist buddies. Then he turned. “It’s not like you can even hope to win against Julius.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Vera said. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

  “Go on,” Castor said. “Surprise me.”

  They stepped into the stadium. The bleachers were already packed.

  “There’s Julius,” Vera exclaimed. “He looks even stronger than last night.”

  “And Iskander,” Pretia added.

  “They’re all here,” Rovi said. “All the sick students.” He slapped Pretia on the back. “What does it feel like to be both a princess and a hero?”

  He heard Pretia take a deep breath. “I’m not a hero,” she said. “It’s all of us. You, me, and Vera are all heroes.”

  Cassandra appeared and clamped her hands over Rovi’s and Vera’s wrists. “You two need to warm up. You can all chat later.”

  Vera hesitated.

  “Come on,” Cassandra said. “We need the best prep we can get.”

  “Hold on,” Vera said. She looked down at Pretia’s shoes. Like Rovi, she was also wearing her gold Grana Gleams. “Can you run in those?”

  “Of course,” Pretia said.

  “Pretia’s taking my place,” Vera declared.

  “What?” Pretia and Cassandra said in unison.

  “Pretia is taking my place,” Vera said. “She’s going to run for me.”

  “But Pretia isn’t a runner,” Cassandra said. “And, according to her, Pretia doesn’t even have grana.”

  Vera whirled around so she was face-to-face with the House Captain. “She has the strongest grana of anyone I know. And what’s more—she’s the only person I know who can actually step outside herself. And trust me, that’s what it’s going to take to beat Julius.”

  “I thought you wanted to beat your brother,” Cassandra said.

  “I do,” Vera replied. “But I also believe in Dreamers. I want us to win. Come on, Pretia,” she said, “I’ll lend you my racing kit. But first, you have to tell me something.”

  They waited until Cassandra moved out of earshot.

  “Why were you afraid to use your grana?”

  Pretia glanced at Rovi.

  “Tell her,” Rovi said.

  “I was afraid of it,” Pretia said. “I thought if I used it I would hurt someone.”

  “Why?” Vera asked.

  “Yeah, why?” Rovi echoed. “You never told me.”

  “I did something stupid back at the castle. The first day I got my grana, I couldn’t control it and accidentally pushed someone off a cliff playing tag. I figured my grana was cursed.” That was all she was going to tell them. There was no way, especially after what they’d just been through, that she was going to mention Hurell’s flame. “What I didn’t understand,” she continued, “was that my grana is powerful an
d I needed to learn to control it.”

  “Well, you better let it loose right now,” Vera said. “Don’t hold back.”

  “For sure,” Pretia said. “One hundred percent.”

  As the girls dashed into a corridor of the stadium to change, Rovi followed Cassandra to the area near the track where the other two Dreamers were warming up. “I hope Vera knows what she’s doing,” Cassandra said.

  “I think she does,” Rovi replied.

  A tidal wave of whispers and gasps crashed over the stadium when Pretia emerged dressed to race. The noise and speculation only got louder when she joined Rovi and began to warm up on the track. When they were warm, they walked the obstacle course together, familiarizing themselves with the water jumps and barriers.

  On their way to the starting line, they walked past the bleachers. “Did your parents force the school to let you race?” Castor called.

  “Ignore him,” Rovi said.

  “A Demigen and a Star Stealer,” Castor taunted. “What a pair!”

  This, Rovi couldn’t let slide. He took a deep breath, then, as calmly as he could, approached Castor. “Castor,” he said, “I have bad news.” Rovi raised his voice so as many of the students as possible in the bleachers could hear. “You know how you think you’re going to be king because your cousin doesn’t have grana? Well, Pretia’s got the most amazing grana in the entire land. So, sorry. I guess the throne isn’t your destiny, no matter how often you visualize it.”

  “I—I—I . . .” Castor stammered. “I never said I wanted to rule Epoca.”

  “You did. I saw it in our shared visualization,” Rovi said.

  “That’s not true,” Castor said.

  “Keep it up, Castor,” Pretia said. “Satis told us we should practice visualizing the impossible. And if there’s one thing that I’m sure of, it’s that you aren’t going to rule Epoca.”

  “Ruling is boring, anyway,” Castor said. “Kings and queens don’t compete in the Epic Games. They’re too busy with other stuff to train.”

  “Well,” Rovi said, “I think that’s about to change. I think Pretia is going to be an Epic Athlete, for sure.”