by Kobe Bryant
Pretia’s shadow was a lightning bolt—a speeding bullet. It tore down the track, a blur of Dreamer purple and golden sneakers.
Pretia didn’t pause to watch. She kept running, as if her physical self’s exertion could drive her shadow self on.
One by one, her shadow self picked off the runners until it was neck and neck with Rex Taxus in the homestretch.
Pretia herself kept up her pursuit. They were doing this together, her physical body and her split self.
Only a few more steps. Only a second or less. That was all that remained.
And with one final exertion, Pretia’s shadow self leaned forward, tipping over the finish line in front of Rex Taxus.
A few moments later Pretia felt that curious collision as her physical body crossed the finish line and her shadow self crashed back into it.
She had done it!
They had done it!
What’s more—the Dreamers from Dynami had finished third.
The stadium exploded with purple fireworks, streamers, confetti, and banners.
Pretia wiped sweat from her eyes. She turned toward the royal box and saw her parents on their feet, clapping wildly for her.
It didn’t matter that this was her last race. This was the best feeling in the world. Pretia’s heart swelled—she felt as if she were floating above her body. Everything was so real and surreal at the same time.
Dreamers were swarming all around her, congratulating her on her win.
“My teammates—not just the ones from this race but all the athletes from House Somni—and I did this together,” Pretia insisted. She reached for Vera in the crowd. “And without Vera Renovo’s record-breaking medal haul, we never would have clinched Junior Epic Victory.” Vera beamed as the Dreamers began to chant her name.
In the middle of the commotion, Pretia saw that Eshe was standing off to the side. She broke free of the jubilant Dreamers. “Hey,” she said, hugging her teammate, “we ran an amazing race.”
“I nearly ruined it,” Eshe said.
“First of all, I nearly ruined it earlier,” Pretia said. “But without your performance in previous heats, we’d never have made it. I was useless.”
“I guess,” Eshe said. “Everyone saw me mess up.”
“Want to know what I think? If you hadn’t dropped the baton, I could never have summoned my shadow self. You helped me.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Absolutely,” Pretia said, releasing Eshe. “Now let’s celebrate.”
The moment she’d let go of Eshe, Pretia felt a grip on her shoulders. “That’s the athlete I always knew was in there.” Satis’s voice was in her ear. “I’ve been waiting for this moment since I first saw what you could do at Ecrof.”
“So have I.” Pretia looked up from Satis’s embrace to see the stern face of her uncle Janos. “I knew you had it in you,” Janos said warmly. And then he backed away, leaving Pretia to celebrate with her team.
The Dreamers hoisted her and her teammates on their shoulders for a victory lap around the track before putting them down to continue celebrating. Eventually, the crowd parted to allow Pretia and her team to approach the podium for the medal ceremony. When it did, she saw that Rex Taxus was standing stock-still, his mouth open. During the explosion of Dreamer joy, he hadn’t moved to commiserate with his Realist teammates.
They locked eyes.
“That—that.” His mouth opened and shut, obviously stuck on what he wanted to say. “That was simply incredible.”
Many unbelievable things had happened to Pretia that day, but this was perhaps the most incredible.
“I have never seen anything like what you just did,” Rex added. And then, with the stunned look still on his face, he slumped off to join the crowd of somber Realists. She stared after him for a moment before continuing on to the podium, where the teams lined up behind their respective podium positions.
The announcer came over the stadium’s megahorn. “Today, in honor of the final event of the games, King Airos and Queen Helena of Epoca will present the medals to the victors and the runners-up. They will also award the Junior Epic Cup to House Somni, winner of these Junior Epic Games.”
A deafening cheer shook the Crescent Stadium, followed by the Dreamer fight song.
Several officials began to cross the field, carrying a table with the Junior Epic Cup and a megahorn on a stand.
Pretia’s heart leaped into her throat. She’d known she would have to face her parents, but she wasn’t prepared for it to happen quite so soon. She had hoped for a few more moments to drink in the wondrous atmosphere of the victorious end of the games before facing the consequences of what she had done.
Pretia looked toward the royal box. Her parents had left their seats and were being escorted down to the field.
Vera could clearly feel her tension. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re a hero. They saw that. You just executed the most remarkable feat and comeback in the history of the Junior Epic Games. And I would know.” Vera turned to Rovi. “Right, Rovi?”
Rovi nodded distractedly, his eyes fixed on the king and queen as they crossed the field.
“Rovi?” Pretia asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Why?” His voice was distant, as if he wasn’t aware of the momentous occasion.
Pretia’s parents had reached the podium to begin the medal ceremony. The Junior Epic Cup, a glittering glass-and-gold trophy showing the faces of the seven blessed gods, stood in front of them next to a megahorn, presumably for House Somni’s victory speech.
The stadium’s announcer bellowed, “In third place, the Dreamers from Dynami.”
The stadium was rocked by Dreamers’ chants as the third-place finishers mounted the podium. They bowed their necks as the king and queen placed bronze medals around them.
“In second place, the Realists from Dynami.”
Rex Taxus and his team stepped forward so the king and queen could place silver medals around their necks. The applause from the Realist camp was more muted than the Dreamers’ reaction had been.
“And finally—” The announcer’s voice was drowned out by the Dreamer fight song once more erupting across the stands. “And finally, in first place, the Dreamers from Ecrof, as well as their flag bearer, Rovi Myrios, who will accept the Junior Epic Cup on their behalf.”
Pretia, Vera, Rovi, and Eshe stepped onto the winners’ place.
Pretia studied her parents. It was over. She’d run her race. She achieved what she’d dreamed of when she fled Ponsit Palace what felt like a lifetime ago. She had no idea what would come next, but part of her was relieved she didn’t have to defy them any longer.
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t read her parents’ expressions—she saw that they were working hard to maintain their officially neutral faces. Were they angry or proud? Surely they wouldn’t demonstrate their anger at Pretia in front of the entire nation, especially not after such a remarkable victory.
She watched them each take a gold medal from one of the attendants and approach the podium. They placed the medals over Vera and Eshe first, then received two more.
The queen stood in front of Rovi, the king in front of Pretia.
Pretia and Rovi bowed their heads to receive their medals. “Welcome back, my daughter,” the king said in a low voice. “That was indeed impressive. Still, there are many things we have to discuss. You have presented us with some challenges.”
He looped the medal around her neck and placed a kiss on her cheek that, despite his stern words, was full of warmth and love.
“And now, the Junior Epic Cup will be presented to Rovi Myrios as representative of House Somni,” the announcer declared.
Together, the king and queen carried the cup to Rovi. He accepted it. An attendant drew the megahorn near so he could speak. He took the cup and held it with one ar
m.
Then he looked at Pretia, a strange expression in his eyes. He seemed at a loss for words. “Go on,” she urged.
Suddenly Rovi raised his free arm toward the sky, his palm upward, his fingers cupped together like he was plucking a star from the heavens. The Star Stealer salute.
Pretia’s heart stopped. Her breath caught. He was risking everything they had just achieved against so many improbable—no, impossible—odds.
And then, bending slightly toward the megahorn and speaking in the most powerful voice Pretia had ever heard Rovi use, he proclaimed, “No sports for any until there are sports for all.”
The stadium fell silent.
The queen’s eyes widened in shock. King Airos, too, seemed stunned.
Pretia looked from Rovi’s stoic stance to her parents’ muddled confusion. The Junior Epic Cup glinted in the stadium lights, a brilliant flash of gold.
Then it hit Pretia.
This was the moment in her Grana Book.
This moment was why she had to run away to Ecrof and hide in Phoenis. Her suspicion that the golden fire at the end of the twisty road wasn’t victory had been correct. She could see it clearly now. And what was more, she could feel it.
Her parents—their houses—were the murky mountains and she was the twisty path. But the golden fire at the end of the road wasn’t winning; it was knowledge. It was enlightenment. That was her duty and her destiny. Her experience with the Star Stealers had shown her a new purpose: to lead Epoca into a brighter future, a future in which equality was paramount. A future in which Epocans would understand the Orphic People who lived among them, and accept them. She could see the way forward, and it was her duty to lead her people along that path.
Pretia extended her arm skyward. She raised her palm. She brought her fingers together.
And finally, she found the words she needed. “No sports for any until there are sports for all.” Her voice rang out, clear and strong. “This victory is not just for House Somni, but also for the Orphic People, now and forever.”
The king and the queen stared at Pretia.
“I am the Child of Hope,” she continued. “This is my hope. This is the hope I bring to you. A united Epoca for Dreamers, Realists, and Orphics.”
The stadium remained silent.
Then Vera raised her arm, joining Pretia and Rovi in their salute.
Every inch of Pretia was vibrating with excitement and tension. She knew she had done the right thing. She had saved the Star Stealers, but it wasn’t enough. She had to proclaim herself their champion.
The king stepped forward. Pretia’s blood froze. Would he strip her medal from her?
“So you have accepted your name at last,” he said. “Though not without complications.”
“Yes,” Pretia said. “I have.”
“You have come into your destiny as I knew you would,” the queen said, “and made a statement as a future ruler. It’s not one that I could have predicted. But I shall try and respect it. What you did on the field today was most impressive, but this gesture was even more so.”
“You have stepped into your fate as future ruler whether you like it or not,” the king said.
“I am ready,” Pretia said proudly. She had saved the Junior Epic Games.
“Good,” her parents said in unison. Then they raised their arms so the entire stadium could see and applauded Pretia and her friends.
The stands exploded in thunderous applause.
“You are indeed the Child of Hope. You always have been,” the queen said.
“But in my own way,” Pretia replied.
“As it should be,” the queen said, kissing her forehead.
Pretia’s parents backed away, marking the end of the medal ceremony.
Overhead, the sky erupted with Dreamer purple fireworks. Pretia turned to her friends. “We did it,” she said. “We did more than I ever imagined we could have.”
“I think I made Issa proud,” Rovi said. “I know I did.”
“I sure made Farnaka proud, both on and off the field,” Vera said. “I bet he never imagined I’d break his record and take a stand. And I made Ecrof proud, too.”
“And you showed your brother what you’re made of,” Rovi said.
“Pretia showed my brother what she’s made of,” Vera echoed.
“You two made me proud,” Pretia said. “Me and the whole of Epoca. No matter what happens next, we have done something incredible.”
As one, the three friends looked up at the sky. A full moon hung above the stadium, watching over them, making the sky glow with soft purple light.
Who knew what dreams would come and what challenges would arise. A world of wonders and possibilities, hopes and fears stretched out vast and unknowable before them. But there was one thing Pretia was certain of: whatever came, they would be ready to face it.
She looped one arm over each of her friends’ necks, hugging them close. “Here’s to dreams that never die.”
AFTERWORD
Kobe’s imagination was as vivid and creative as it was unrestrained. His vision for the four, and possibly eight, books that would have formed the complete Epoca series began way before the first page of The Tree of Ecrof and extended far past the final page of The River of Sand. What you hold in your hands represents only a small part of Pretia’s journey. But we feel that without Kobe’s creativity and guidance, it is impossible to complete the series. And because the series is incomplete, we wanted to give you a sense of where the story was headed and reveal some of the secrets buried in the pages you have read.
You may have started to suspect that there is something unusual about Pretia’s parentage. It’s true: King Airos and Queen Helena are not her parents. She is in fact the daughter of Syspara, the Realist queen’s sister, and her Dreamer partner Fortunus. Heartbroken over the death of several infant children, Queen Helena, with the help of her confidante, Anara, switched her sickly baby with that of her pregnant sister Syspara. Syspara, devastated over the death of her child and suspicious about her sister’s actions, fled Epoca to the outlands, where she has been plotting her revenge.
Unbeknownst to her, Pretia has inherited her remarkable grana from her birth mother, and this is why her uncle Janos is her champion, despite her not choosing to compete for his house—he suspects that she is actually his favorite sister Syspara’s child.
Speaking of Janos, you are probably wondering about his devotion to Hurell, the God of Suffering. This is one of the primary threads we were not able to satisfy in two books. It was Kobe’s intention to take Pretia and the reader on a journey of discovery in which they would come to understand the God of Suffering as a positive force. Although Pretia’s parents call her the Child of Hope, she is, in fact, the Child of Suffering stolen from a mother who was tricked into believing her child dead. Syspara, like Janos, is a devotee of Hurell and is raising an army in her outland kingdom to restore the Fallen God to prominence in order to bring the people of Epoca into greater understanding of his many facets.
As Pretia progressed on her life’s journey, she would have discovered the truth about her parentage and the origins of her remarkable grana. She would have realized her destiny as the Child of Suffering, for only then, when she had recognized that through suffering we enter into hope, could she understand the extent of her powers.
But all of that we will leave to your imagination. We know Kobe would love you to continue Pretia’s journey for her, to carry her with you and to imagine her adventures. He would love you to internalize its lessons—the necessity of drawing strength from fear and that success comes from a marriage of dreams and reality . . .
For now we will leave you with the Grana Prayer he wrote for each of the houses—the two sides of Pretia’s self: “May your inspiration fly freely, toward a boundless sky and a sea of ideas, and lead you to wonders that never cease. . . . Guided
by fear, led by thought, steered by confidence, may you never go astray.” We hope you continue this journey in your minds and hearts and carry Kobe’s stories with you forever and always.
THE MAMBA & MAMBACITA SPORTS FOUNDATION
is a nonprofit organization that was founded in loving memory of Kobe and Gianna “Gigi” Bryant and is dedicated to creating positive impact for underserved athletes and young women in sports.
To help continue Kobe’s and Gigi’s legacies, please visit MambaAndMambacita.org.
KOBE BRYANT was an Academy Award winner, a New York Times best-selling author, and the CEO of Granity Studios, a multimedia content creation company. He was also a five-time NBA champion, two-time NBA Finals MVP, NBA MVP, and two-time Olympic gold medalist. Above all else, he was a loving husband and a doting father to four girls. In everything he built, Kobe was driven to teach the next generation how to reach their full potential. He believed in the beauty of the process, in the strength that comes from inner magic, and in achieving the impossible. His legacy continues today.
* * *
IVY CLAIRE is a New York Times best-selling author, 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.
GRANITY STUDIOS, LLC
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