Haddie always loved summer. No sums, no figures, just sun rays and ocean waves.
But it seemed some people couldn’t relax, even if their lives depended on it.
A fifty-foot watery monster stood in front of her at the beach. Inside its liquid chest sat a boy, the root of all her problems—
“Eustace,” his mother called. “Come say hi to Miss Marta.”
Eustace ignored the summons and kept practicing the combo on his controller. Two basic attacks, block, stab, slash, another block. It left just enough stamina for an ult. A forum online said the maneuver was so overpowered, he could beat dungeon bosses two
Pounding on the door jolts me out of the haze between sleeping and waking. Remaining alert while resting is one useful trick I still use from my army days. I rise from my chair, brush the wrinkles out of my robes, and grab my lantern. Yawning, I stumble past the carved stone tombs
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Yesterday, I declared war.
On a bugle.
0600. Time for “Reveille.” Our base commander, Wizard-General Lytton, won’t waste even the newest recruit mage on that duty. A simple spell makes the bugle perpetually hovering by the flagpole sound any required call at the proper time.
Until yesterday. Ten seconds into the silence
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It’s an honor being a royal hot air balloon maker. But the conversation occurring around me makes me want to float away from my coworkers and hide.
I only have one thing in common with the other three people working in the sunshine outside Princess Amzho’s castle: a love and talent for our craft.
If anything merits some Courage Cordial, it’s a job interview.
I stare at the glass bottle on my shelf, one of many elixirs I’ve created. A sip won’t hurt—it’ll just give me a little confidence boost. And I’ve made hundreds of successful potions before, which is why in thirty minutes I’ll be walking under the
What’s the difference between a hero and a wimp?
I fall firmly in the latter category. I don’t sing in public. I don’t raise my hand in class.
My wimpiness wasn’t really a problem until last week. That’s when Aidan Peacebringer —beautiful Aidan, with his curly hair and goofy grin and not being
Attn: Wizard Mark Fennel
Magical Medical
Outgoing private comm records from Royal Wizard Greg Zaks
2.1.11
The headaches are back.
I know you diagnosed tension, but I’m convinced it’s something more. I can hear you saying, “They started when Flora disappeared. You have no prior history.” But they’ve lasted months.
There were many things eight-year-old Haddie Underwood did not like—sitting still, doing her spellcaster homework, dogs—but she hated being lied to most of all.
Haddie squeezed her sister’s hand and pointed in utter betrayal at the animal inside the deep pit that functioned as a zoo exhibit. “Where is the giant panda?”
Nan and I were at the hives when the stranger stopped by. “Elias Carver, your new neighbor.” He tipped his hat and nodded toward the gray house on the hill. “Belonged to my late uncle. We weren’t close. I only got word a few months ago the old place’s been empty for years. Now I’m here to settle down.”
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The portal closed with a whumph and the smell of mint chocolate chip cookies. My human stomach rumbled as I stepped onto the pier. Seagulls’ piercing cries sounded above.
The city sprawled along the gentle curve of the giant turtle’s shell, the buildings rising taller as docks and warehouses gave way to
Bad enough that I’m standing on a turtle larger than Zofan’s five-acre property. Even worse that I’m here with hundreds of wizards and wizardesses for their yearly convention. Worse still that my mentor Zofan has partnered me with the arrogant apprentice Walfort. None of these, however, make my boots shake like dreading my yearly
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