The Tree of Ecrof

by Kobe Bryant

  “Pretia.” Castor snickered. “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Just wait and watch from the sidelines,” Rovi said. “I think after the race you won’t have much to laugh about.”

  He walked off, Pretia at his side. “So, that should shut your cousin up.”

  “What should what?” Pretia replied. She’d barely heard a word of what he’d said to Castor. She was in a zone Rovi had never seen before, a place of focus and concentration. He realized that for the first time, he was going to see Pretia try at sports—try hard.

  The Dreamers’ chant rose from the stands. Rovi’s adrenaline started to pump. His heart accelerated. He glanced at the bleachers and saw the ocean of purple banners, the sea of purple faces and purple tracksuits. He only had ears for the cheers of his teammates. He was ready.

  The stands fell momentarily silent as Janos blew his whistle.

  “First of all, let us welcome back all of our students to Ecrof,” he boomed. “We have missed you.” There was an explosion of cheering from all the students. “And now, I’m sure that you can all see our magnificent tree has made a remarkable turnaround overnight and is back to its former glory. It’s an Ecrof miracle.” Rovi watched as Janos caught Pretia’s eye and winked. “I’m sure there is a hero somewhere who knows exactly what happened. But for now, let us all simply enjoy the splendor of our mascot.” A loud cheer burst from all the students at once. Janos silenced them with another blast of his whistle.

  “And,” he bellowed, “the revitalization of our tree means that we can conclude this year’s final Field Day with the steeplechase that was interrupted yesterday by extraordinary events. As you know, the standings have House Relia leading by two points. Good luck to all. Runners, take your places.”

  Rovi and Pretia lined up next to each other at the start. Julius was farther down, towering over the rest of the field. Rovi could feel an electric current coursing from the stands down to the track and up through his shoes into his legs and to his heart.

  Janos stepped onto the field, preparing to start the race.

  “On your marks,” he said. “Get set. Go.”

  They took off. Rovi’s feet felt as sure as ever. They guided him over the first water barrier. They didn’t touch down on the other side. Instead, they carried him through the air so that he flew between obstacles. He soared.

  Rovi knew that he had never run better. He passed over obstacles and barriers like he was jogging on flat ground. He glanced down once and saw that his sneakers were a gold blur. He could sense the entire field at his back chasing him.

  There were four obstacles left. He made a turn and headed for the Tree of Ecrof. And then Pretia caught up to him. She was pacing him evenly, in lockstep as they leaped over a water barrier. Rovi could sense what was about to happen before it did. Pretia was at his side, and then she was ahead of him—at the same time. If he hadn’t been racing, he would have stopped short to watch as the Princess of Epoca stepped outside herself for the last three obstacles.

  Rovi stumbled slightly. But it didn’t matter, Pretia was too far ahead to catch. She finished the race three obstacles ahead of him. At the finish line her two sides collided, reuniting.

  When Rovi finished the race, Pretia was waiting for him, an ecstatic smile on her face.

  “You did it,” he said, between breaths.

  “And so did you,” she said, beaming. “We both beat Julius. We won Field Day.”

  Rovi took Pretia’s hand and raised it over her head in a victory salute. The minute he did so, a group of Dreamers raced from the stands and rushed her. Along with Rovi, they hoisted Pretia onto their shoulders and paraded her around the track for a victory lap. When they passed Castor and his crew, Rovi slowed the procession.

  “What did I tell you?” Rovi shouted over the cheers.

  For once Castor didn’t have a reply. He was stupefied, staring at his cousin with a look of awe on his face.

  29

  PRETIA

  THE SECRET

  Sometimes the last weeks at Ecrof felt like a dream. First the adventure with the strangler fig, and then the steeplechase. It all seemed too fantastical to be true. Pretia had destroyed the Staff of Suffering . . . and she’d won the steeplechase.

  She, Rovi, and Julius had been neck and neck going into the final three obstacles when it happened—Pretia stepped out of herself. She’d watched herself race away, leap over a water pit, clear a hurdle, and nagivate the final barrier to cross the finish line first.

  The second she’d done so, she found herself under a pile of Dreamers who’d rushed from the stands to congratulate her. Pretia had helped clinch the Field Day for her house—and she’d used her grana without anyone getting hurt.

  Now her name was engraved in gold letters in the trophy hall of the Temple of Dreams. There was even a little star next to it, indicating that not only had Pretia won her event at Field Day, she’d done it as a recruit, a feat so remarkable it received its own separate commendation.

  For the last week, Ecrof had been emptying out. The ship that brought the recruits to the island was making journeys back and forth to mainland Epoca, transporting one class at a time. The recruits, the last to arrive, would also be the last to leave.

  Pretia liked the empty campus. It allowed her to truly enjoy herself for the first time, letting loose on the Infinity Track and sprinting full tilt around the Panathletic Stadium. It was as if she hadn’t really been at Ecrof at all during her first year. She’d only been pretending.

  Pretia stood in her bedroom and looked out over the campus. The ship had returned the night before from bringing the second years back to the mainland. Today, she and her fellow recruits would set sail.

  Her bags were packed. Her Ecrof gear was stored for the upcoming term. Part of her wanted to stay longer and get to experience all the magic of the academy she’d forbidden herself because she’d feared her grana. But mostly, Pretia was ready to go back to Castle Airim. She couldn’t wait to tell Anara about the island and about Hurell’s temple.

  More than anything, Pretia was longing to get back to her parents, to see the look on her mother’s face when she admitted that she actually had grana, and not just any grana, but grana that people thought was exceptional. Maybe this news would erase those worried glances and sad expressions that often filled the queen’s eyes.

  Pretia took a last glance around the room. How strange that not too long ago, she’d been anxious to leave Ecrof forever. Now she was already excited to get back.

  Carrying a small backpack, she descended the stairs to the cafeteria, where she found Rovi loading up his Ecrof backpack from one of the vending machines. “You know there’s food on the boat,” she said.

  “Just in case,” Rovi replied.

  “Maybe it’s the fancy castle food he’s worried about.” Pretia turned and saw that Vera had appeared behind them at the machines. “Maybe he’s worried he won’t find a single thing to eat in the entire royal kitchen.”

  “Impossible!” Rovi laughed.

  Pretia had been delighted when Rovi had accepted her invitation to spend the summer at Castle Airim. How could he return to sleeping on the streets of Phoenis after nine months at Ecrof? She wouldn’t let it happen.

  Once Rovi had stuffed his backpack with snacks, Pretia and her friends headed out of the temple for the last time that year. As they passed through the trophy hall, she took a final look at her name on the wall.

  “Pretty cool,” Vera said, then gave Pretia a little nudge. “I’ll get mine next year.”

  “And next year, you’ll already be Epic Elite,” Pretia reminded her, which made Vera beam. “Rovi, you have some catching up to do.”

  “Don’t worry,” Rovi said. “Next year, you two are in trouble. Next year I’m actually going to try.”

  “Bring it on,” Pretia replied.

  They descended the hill,
crossed the main field, passed by the Halls of Process, and headed into the Panathletic Stadium, where the rest of the recruits had already assembled. Cleopatra Volis stood at the head of the group, ready to lead them around the Decision Woods and down to the awaiting ship.

  “Later, Ecrof,” Castor said, waving at the campus.

  Pretia grabbed her cousin’s arm. “Where’s your father? Is he at the ship?”

  “He’s in his rooms,” Castor said. “I already said goodbye.”

  “But I didn’t,” Pretia said. She couldn’t leave the island without saying goodbye to her favorite uncle.

  “You’ll see him back at the castle over the summer,” Castor said. “I’m sure we’ll be dragged to visit the amazing Pretia.”

  “I want to say goodbye,” Pretia replied. “Cleopatra, do I have time to run to the Trainers Towers?”

  “Hurry,” Cleopatra said. “You have ten minutes. When the second horn blasts, you need to be back here or we’ll head to the ship without you.”

  Pretia rushed off. But not before she heard Castor mutter, “Now that she won a Field Day event, everyone has to do whatever Pretia wants.”

  Her cousin’s gripe didn’t dampen her spirits. She flew back across campus, letting the full force of her grana carry her toward the Trainers Towers. At the entrance, she glanced up to the top of the eastern tower and saw the familiar warm glow in her uncle’s chambers. She raced up the stairs, hurrying as fast as she could.

  She opened the door without knocking, calling her uncle’s name.

  Janos wasn’t in his living room or the well-appointed kitchen. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar. Pretia could see shadows flickering on the floor. She guessed three minutes had passed since she’d left the recruits.

  “Uncle Janos!”

  Behind the door she could hear her uncle’s voice. She drew near and peeked through the slight opening.

  It took her a moment to figure out what she was seeing. Her uncle Janos stood with his back to her in front of a ghostly silver ceremonial flame. He was deep in prayer, so deep he didn’t hear her enter.

  Behind the flame was a bust of a male god like those in the Hall of the Gods back at Castle Airim. Except that this was a god Pretia didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Metus, Somni, or Prosi. Which meant only one thing. Hurell.

  His bust was always kept under a shroud, so Pretia had no idea what he looked like. But she had no doubt now what she was seeing. The Fallen God. A wild torrent of hair. A broad brow and deep-set eyes.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. But she was too late. The sound that had escaped her lips broke her uncle’s trance. He turned and pulled the door wide. It took a moment for him to process her presence.

  “Well, Pretia,” Janos said in a calm voice. “Now you know.”

  “But, but, but . . .” was all Pretia could manage.

  How could her uncle, of all people, be praying to Hurell? Why would anyone pray to Hurell?

  “Uncle Janos, what are you doing?”

  “Pretia, there are things about this world that you don’t understand.”

  “But this is forbidden. It’s dangerous!”

  “Nothing in this world is black and white. There are not simply good gods and fallen ones. Everything is much more complex and interesting than that.”

  Pretia stared at the ceremonial flame. “So you knew about the temple all along.”

  “I did.”

  “And the tree?”

  “That, too. You see, this is one of the beautiful quirks of our world. Who would have known that Hurell’s staff was made of a strangler fig? That when Hurell received strength from prayers, the staff would grow into the miracle you saw?”

  “And you made all of this happen?”

  Janos let out a warm laugh. “Pretia, you imagine I have more power than I do. I’m just a man. This is the work of the gods. I made nothing happen. I only . . . allowed certain things to. In the service of divine power.”

  Pretia turned away so she didn’t have to face Hurell’s bust. “So none of this is my fault,” she said. The question had been weighing on her since she’d first seen Hurell’s temple. “The temple didn’t return because I stupidly lit the flame to the Fallen God back at Castle Airim?”

  A fresh smile broke across Janos’s face. “You did that? You are a surprising young lady.” Then he placed a hand on Pretia’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine that you lighting that flame had much to do with anything. This story has been developing since long before you were born. And one day you will understand everything.”

  “Understand what?”

  “There’s more to our world than just Dreamers and Realists.”

  “B-but that tree,” Pretia stammered. “It was stealing students’ grana to make the temple rise.”

  The first horn blast sounded across campus.

  “And we would have found a way to return it to them when the temple rose. But you prevented that. I’m disappointed, Pretia, but also proud of you. There are amazing things in store for you. Things you can’t possibly understand right now.”

  “Things to do with Hurell.” Pretia dropped her voice to a whisper.

  “Things to do with a destiny greater than simply being the Crown Princess of Epoca.” He firmed up his grip on her shoulder.

  Pretia’s mouth opened and closed, and she struggled for a reply.

  “Great and marvelous things. Things you wouldn’t believe even if I told you.” Janos smiled. “Now, you don’t want to miss the boat and be stuck here, do you?”

  He pulled her into a powerful embrace. Pretia’s arms hung limp at her sides, pinned in her uncle’s clutches.

  “I love you more than you will ever understand, favorite niece. That much is all that’s important for now.”

  Pretia stumbled out of the room, then out of her uncle’s chambers. Her mind was racing. Too many thoughts were occurring at the same time. Her uncle—her beloved uncle—was praying to Hurell. He had tried to raise the temple. He had allowed the strangler fig to steal her fellow students’ grana. And, somehow, all of this had to do with her.

  It was all too much to process at once. First the adventure in the tree, then what she’d witnessed her uncle doing. Luckily, she had all summer to think things through. Maybe by the time she returned to Ecrof everything would make sense to her, just like the puzzling image in her Grana Book.

  “What’s wrong?” Vera said when Pretia rejoined the group in the stadium.

  Pretia could only shake her head. There were no words. Not yet.

  She followed the recruits the long way through the Decision Woods and down the steep cliff to the beach. The small boats had been pulled up on shore, ready to transport the recruits out to the stately ship that was bobbing out in the harbor.

  Pretia watched her classmates board the rowboats.

  “Pretia?” Rovi called from the stern of the boat filled with Dreamers.

  She hesitated. There was one last thing she needed to do.

  “Pretia!” Vera called.

  “Now what?” Castor griped.

  But Pretia had already darted a little way down the beach. It didn’t take her long to reach the exact spot she’d stood upon a little over a week earlier—the exact spot where Cora had stood on her final departure from Cora Island. Pretia looked into the cave a final time. It was empty. She shaded her eyes. The sun was directly overhead and shone right into the opening of the cave, illuminating the place where the strangler fig had stood. That, too, was gone.

  There was no tree, no temple, no staff to summon Hurell. There was only Janos in his room with his flame.

  Pretia took one final look. And then, satisfied, she joined the others in the boat.

  KOBE BRYANT is an Academy Award winner, a New York Times best-selling author, and the CEO of Granity Studios, a multimedia content creation c
ompany. He spends every day focused on creating stories that inspire the next generation of athletes to be the best versions of themselves. In a previous life, Kobe was a five-time NBA champion, two-time NBA Finals MVP, NBA MVP, and two-time Olympic gold medalist. He hopes to share what he’s learned with young athletes around the world.

  * * *

  IVY CLAIRE is a former world-ranked athlete and a national and collegiate squash champion. She spent a decade competing internationally before turning full-time to writing. She holds a degree in classics and in a parallel life is a literary novelist. She lives in Los Angeles with her family.

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  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019945521

  ISBN (hardcover): 9781949520071

  ISBN (eBook): 9781949520088

  Cover illustration by Simone Noronha

  Interior illustrations by Simona Bunardzhieva

  Type design by Typozon

  Art direction by Sharanya Durvasula

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s and creator’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.