We need help. Because—to put it frankly—the world has gone to crap, and we need a hero to save us. That’s why I went searching for that forgotten island, somewhere between the Old World and the New—Avalon. On this island I would find a mountain, and the king sleeping beneath it.
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Katrina stood poised at the edge of the cave, her breath held behind clenched teeth. Her sword was raised as she waited for the sandworm to smell its prey. Breathe in… Quietness burned in her ears. Breathe out… Nothing stirred from the depths. Katrina couldn’t move. Her eyes vibrated from staring into
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Cyra, how will you do this?
I have no answer to give myself as I trudge across this scorching desert. I only know that I must try. Shimmering columns of heat rise before my eyes. I am tempted—so tempted—to discard the armor that protects my arms, chest, and legs.
I don’t like Dycin.
It’s not the guide’s superior attitude that makes me dislike him either. He was raised by the Knowledge Keepers. Of course, he’s smarter than me. No. I dislike Dycin because despite his knowledge, he has no idea what he’s doing but presses on anyway. In fact, I suspect we’re lost.
The colossal purple dragon’s scraping snores pierced Eileen’s ears. She froze at the entrance of the cave, her every muscle screaming for her to run.
She took a deep breath, increasing her grip on her deerskin satchel. I can’t stop now; Lottie is depending on me.
Slowly, Eileen entered the dark, humid cave,
Day 1
Dear Mom,
I’m writing you these letters in case I die. Pa knows what to do with my body if anyone finds me out here in the wild. Peter drafted a eulogy before I left. It was beautiful. We both cried.
So far, my quest to retrieve your amulet—something I’ve
Cool water rushed down Prince Edward Mackivoy’s throat, instantly reviving his parched mouth and spirits. It had taken him a week to cross the desert, and he had run out of water two days ago.
Grit still clung to the roof of his mouth, so Edward stuck his face back in the meadow stream
Jack tore into the roasted chicken thigh, the heat of his anger suffusing with the warm tingling of his mother’s herb blend. The flavors of rosemary and thyme soothed him, their homey familiarity pushing against the sting of resentment.
He crunched down on a bone and spat it onto the ground.
“For heaven’s sakes, Afrin, you’re the worst archeologist I’ve ever laid eyes on!”
“I’m a detective, Abraham,” I said, fingering my brimmed hat.
He folded his arms, his eyes on the vista around us. “Four months we’ve been hiking in the Andes—and for what?”
“The Egg of Creation,” Pedro said.
Three of the dragon’s heads lunged, spewing noxious fire. Niccolò bellowed, charged between columns of flame, and drove at the beast with his axe. His blows glanced off the scales, then he staggered against the flags of the old church as four more heads lurched around the corner.
Where was Giovanni?
I creep down the ancient stone hallway, barely containing my anticipation. Months of tracking down clues, solving riddles and dodging hamster attacks are finally bearing fruit. Beyond the door at the end of the hallway lies the Donut of Time, last breakfast artifact I must recover before I can challenge the Hamsters of Doom and stop them from destroying humanity.
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I hacked at a vine as it snaked around my feet. It recoiled. I shook the old tarnished sword at the enchanted forest and shouted, “I am Ariella!” I let the name roll off my tongue. It thrilled me.
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