The Arcane Prophecy: Sample of my YA academy fantasy
The following excerpt is a sample of the latest edit in my young adult academy fantasy, The Arcane Prophecy, featuring Yote and Jett Diamondback.
Sibling Rivalry
When the warning alarm rang through the mansion’s upper floor, Yote Diamondback flung off her bed linens and rushed to her dresser. She opened her second drawer, grabbed a pair of black leggings and a form-fitting shirt, threw them on, and strapped on her high-top trainers. On most days, Yote was up and ready to roll, sitting at the breakfast table in the posh dining room before her sister, Jett, joined her and their parents.
But today, when the first alarm went off, she still lay in bed, trying to time the five-minute mark between it and the warning alarm, which signaled Yote had two minutes before she was due downstairs.
It was one of those nights when Yote had a dream so vivid she could have sworn she spent days, not hours, sleeping. A lucid dream where she controlled her actions, and the scenery didn’t randomly change. She found herself in another realm, celestial if she had to label it.
Yet a peaceful one where she didn’t have to spend her weekends visualizing runic combinations to summon and control the elements of air, water, earth, and fire.
Yote speed-walked from her room and through the scarlet-carpeted hallway, one full of elegant paintings of her ancestors on the cream-colored walls. From the other end, Jett neared the spiral staircase leading to the ground floor, her mane of black hair swishing.
Jett wore a sneer when she locked eyes with Yote. “Ready to go another Saturday without a real dinner?”
Yote scrunched her face but turned on her heel and jogged down the stairs. At least she’d beat Jett to the dining room even on days she refused to move until the warning alarm.
As usual, Mom and Dad already sat at the table where their harried server laid a plate of whole eggs, oatmeal, and an assortment of fruit in front of them.
“Ah, Yote,” Dad said, smiling. “I was getting worried that I’d have to assign you extra conditioning.”
“Just a later start.” She set her eyes on the server, who lifted another plate from his stand and set it in front of her. “Thank you, Benedict.”
Benedict dipped his chin as Jett strode into the kitchen, rubbing away the sleep from her green eyes.
“And as usual, Jett barely beats the clock.” Dad showed Jett the remaining few seconds on his phone’s timer.
“You think I don’t have it down to a science?” Jett slid into the last empty seat and motioned for Benedict to bring her the remaining plate. She scoffed when she caught sight of the food. “Oh, great. You make your little extra conditioning jokes, yet you’re giving us the extra conditioning breakfast.”
“Archer’s call.” Dad scrolled through his phone’s touchscreen. “Yes, four hours of conditioning, lunch break, three hours of drill, and a mock duel. You girls will be as well-rounded as your mother and me were the second you’re accepted and step into Lamerth.”
Mom peered at him over the glass of orange juice before taking a sip, her elegant dark eyes shining. “We said they’d be more than that, Zane.”
“You girls will want to eat up, too. You know what’s at stake tonight.”
“Yeah, the usual,” Jett said.
“Win the duel, earn a three-course meal of your choice. Lose, and it’s a pair of meals, ready-to-eat.” He waved Benedict over, who set two brown, generic packages on the table. “And part of me thinks it might be worth waiting until breakfast.”
Jett wrinkled her nose and shook her head at the ready-to-eat meal replacements. “Oh, but that won’t be necessary tonight, will it, Yote? I’ve been craving those chocolate peanut butter cookies a little too much to give in today.”
Yote, in the middle of stuffing a perfect combo of oatmeal and egg into her mouth, threw her sister a glance from her periphery.
If Yote were honest with herself, she’d be satisfied with flash-fried zucchini, two helpings of chicken parm, white penne pasta, and alfredo sauce. Plus a couple pieces of dark chocolate with a thin layer of mint icing afterward.
Either it was her refusal to enjoy the occasional binge when she defeated her sister in a mock duel once every other moon phase, and that was Yote being generous with herself, or going without proper dinners after her many losses, but she was ultra-petite for a fourteen-year-old.
Her hair, unlike the thick curtain of black that looked so perfect on Jett, was a mixture of brown and red, or rust-colored, as Dad called it. She could use the best straightening iron in the nation of Etharia and the entire world of Xadis, and it would still hang in unkempt waves.
Heck, that was only the beginning. Jett’s almond-shaped eyes rested in perfect proportion with her face, while Yote’s forgettable brown eyes looked more like they belonged on an owl.
Jett’s ivory skin tone glowed when the sun hit it, while Yote’s pasty complexion burned.
At least she had a cool pentagram-shaped mark on her right forearm. How she got it, she’d never known, as Mom quipped that it was a birthmark. But such a dark birthmark? No, something was off.
Yote finished her breakfast and downed her last bit of orange juice before excusing herself and heading toward the training center in their basement. She cracked a small smile when Dad rapped on the table and told Jett she had five minutes to finish breakfast or else she’d forfeit the mock duel and Yote would enjoy a fine dinner.
Conditioning day was the epitome of a double-edged sword. If Yote had anything over Jett, it came during the morning. Small and agile, she outran her sister in the grueling ladder drill comprising a ten-yard sprint, then a twenty-yard sprint, a thirty-yard sprint, and a forty-yard sprint, all the way until Yote and Jett matched one another stride for stride during the first twenty yards of the subsequent fifty-yard sprint. Then Yote pulled ahead and dashed across the finish line.
Hands resting on her hips, Jett struggled to catch her breath, throwing Dad a glare. “D-Don’t…tell me…” she sputtered through gritted teeth.
Dad smirked. “Full ladder. Now get in position, and give me another fifty yards.”
Yote stifled a laugh as Jett bent into a sprinter’s start, cursing.
“Just wait.” Jett planted one hand onto the artificial turf and glared ahead. “Dad will call the EMS when I’m done with you tonight.”
“That’s if you don’t keel over first.” Yote fought back another laugh, surprised at her wit.
Dad blew his whistle, and they set off, with Yote outrunning a heaving Jett when she hit the ten-yard mark.
After ladders, they had an hour of weight training before another round of cardio conditioning, this one a three-mile run, or twenty-four laps, around the indoor track. Once again, Yote outclassed Jett, finishing the run in seventeen minutes while Jett completed it in twenty-five.
“You need to stop underestimating these drills.” Dad raised his voice when Jett shuffled over, hands behind her head as she heaved shuddering breaths. “Lamerth only takes and keeps the best, and you’re slacking. Now let’s go.”
“It’s a little more than duels, huh?” Yote took a swig of an enhanced electrolytes drink that tasted like raspberries mixed with lemon.
“Yeah, but duels are still king. Something you don’t seem to understand, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.”
Yote shot her father a half-glance, but he turned back to Jett. Dad yelled for Jett to stand when she planted her back against the wall and slumped to the floor, her face shining with sweat.
Following a quick lunch that was a piece of fruit and a protein shake, they moved on to target practice, where Dad yelled out runic combos for Yote and Jett to visualize.
Seeing a specific combo in the mind’s eye allowed an Elemental to channel one of the four classical elements of air, water, earth, and fire, and in some cases, two, three, or even all four elements simultaneously.
Flames erupted in Jett’s palms, and she launched fire spheres a yard or two in front of each moving target, incinerating them on impact.
Sometimes, the targets changed direction. But Jett, whether Dad called out runic combos for air, earth, or water, kept her shoulders back, head up, and tossed pristine gales, rock shards, and bullet-shaped hydro blasts.
Heck, an outsider looking into this training session who wouldn’t have known any better may have thought Jett went through the motions. But her Elemental attacks hit the targets with so much force, the sound echoed throughout this vast training center.
As for Yote, she at least hit most of her targets. But her fire sphere extinguished in midair when she aimed too high. Other times, she shot it into the floor. Ditto for her water attack, whose spherical shape paled next to the bullets Jett launched. But when it came time to conjure and pinpoint a whirlwind while visualizing runes like the arrow-shaped Tiwaz, the reverse Z-shaped Eihwaz, or the pointy R-shaped Raidho, they tore through and splintered each target.
“Shade’s going to take out a loan if you keep that up, Yote. Now that’s what I’m talking about. Jett’s often the one breaking things in here. Okay, I want a Berkano, Ehwaz, and Othala combo. Don’t get too trigger-happy, or else you’re helping the maintenance crew fix the floor.”
Shoulders burning from exertion, Yote drew a breath and visualized the spikey ‘B’ of Berkano, the ‘M’ of Ehwaz, and the diamond with crisscrossing diagonal lines at the bottom for Othala before sinking her fist through a circular opening of earth that the turf didn’t cover.
Holding the runic combo in her mind’s eye, Yote pictured a boulder jetting through the soft patch of land as the targets zigzagged. She drove her fist through the levitating rock that was wider than her wingspan. It broke into countless shards and tore through three of the five targets. Yote wiped a few beads of sweat from her forehead, dug her fingertips into her shoulder muscles, and wore a half-smile, her gaze moving from Jett to Dad.
“Alright,” Dad said as a crew of young men and women wearing black tees and slacks emerged from the mahogany set of double doors to clear the area of debris Elemental drills brought. “Fifteen minutes of meditation while the crew cleans up the mess, then it’s on to the mock duel.”
Yote drew a breath and jogged toward her circular meditation mat set to the right of the turf, lowered herself onto her knees, and bowed her head. After an exercise comprising two seconds of inhaling, holding her breath for four, and expelling it for six, Yote let the back of her hands rest on her thighs, now breathing naturally.
She closed her eyes, still focused on her breaths. And her muscles, so tense from channeling and unleashing the four elements, loosened. Then it happened. She stood in the middle of a forest, with a will o’ the wisp rising past her knees.
Yote held a spherical object that looked like a crystal of some sort. A message rested inside it, foggy, as though written in smoke. Yote narrowed her eyes, doing all she could to catch the slightest idea of what this thing said before Dad’s voice echoed from somewhere within the trees.
She opened her eyes, and the basement training center materialized. Despite the sudden change of scenery, the vision was so vivid that Yote remembered every detail. But the message. What did that message say?
Yote called the vision back to the forefront of her mind as she threw on a chest and back protector, plus knee, forearm, and elbow pads, but still, nothing clear came. Yote also pulled on fire-resistant gloves with openings for her fingers and at the palms, where she would summon or conjure flames and, in some cases, water.
She took her place in the middle of the training center’s court, stepping onto a round, black circle that served as a starting point, facing Jett, who stood ten yards away.
“Fight stance.” Dad’s voice echoed throughout the center.
Yote bent her knees slightly, tucked her core, and readied her hands into open fists, eyeing Jett.
“Mock duel rules only.” Dad handed Yote and Jett tinted goggles plus a helmet that protected the nose, mouth, ears, and throat. “Fire attacks must be no more than small spheres. Summoned rocks must come from the designated zone and may not be larger than one’s palm when broken. Rocks must be broken into shards upon summoning.
“No air maneuver stronger than anything that will cause your opponent to stumble backward, and no blasts of water larger than the palm or faster than the maximum speed of the air maneuver. No shots to any exposed region with intent to harm. The duel ends when one can no longer continue, or when someone’s knee, elbow, stomach, or back hits the floor from a direct attack.
“You may allow your knees, elbows, stomach, and back to contact the floor if you are avoiding an attack or doing so on your own accord. Attacking an opponent while they are falling because of a direct hit is not permitted unless one’s momentum is the cause of an ensuing attack. You may, however, attack an opponent if they voluntarily use the ground to summon an element for attack. Failing to abide by these rules will result in an automatic disqualification and loss of reward. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Dad,” Yote and Jett said in unison.
“Alright, get ready, keep everything clean, and duel.”
Jett’s hand shot toward Yote, and that bullet-shaped water surged at her from one of the tiny pools surrounding the training court.
Yote ducked to dodge the incoming projectile, somersaulted, and knelt in front of a circular opening to the earth, this one sprouting natural grass. Picturing Othala, she rammed her fist through the ground, and up came a small rock.
But an incoming fire sphere forced Yote to dive onto her stomach. And when she repositioned herself, her levitating rock dropped onto the training floor.
“I’ll take that,” Jett said as Yote stumbled to her feet.
The rock zoomed toward her sister’s outstretched hand. Jett then clenched her fists, driving them both through it. It shattered into over a dozen spear-like shards and sped toward Yote.
Showing off the precision from earlier, Jett summoned and sent another batch of rock fragments, directing them to fly in all directions. Yote had nowhere to go, so she planted her trainers into the turf and steeled herself, absorbing at least six shots. Two bounced off her goggles, while another hit her in the throat protector. The final pair caught Yote in her exposed thigh, and a squeal of pain escaped her.
Eyes watering, she tried to keep herself upright and focus on Jett. But the girl hit her with a whirlwind in the chest, before another surge of water caught her in the mask.
Yote’s head snapped back, and she collapsed but managed to tuck her chin to keep the back of her skull from bouncing off the unforgiving turf. Even with a helmet on, taking a hit to the head was no guarantee one would walk away without sustaining at least a slight concussion.
“Wow, you must have really been craving those desserts, Jett,” Dad said brightly.
Yote groaned as she rolled onto her stomach, her neck searing thanks to the surge that dropped her.
“You alright, Yote?” Dad muttered, kneeling next to her.
“Yeah, I-I’m good.” She massaged the back of her neck. “Just give me a second.”
“Need an ice pack?”
“No, really, I-I’ll be fine.” She had to have suffered a strain or something near her trap muscle. But Yote wasn’t about to give Jett more satisfaction. And now that she regained her senses, Jett’s celebratory, “Whoops,” rang in her ears. Each sounded like an insult, and Jett would take every opportunity to remind Yote of how fast and one-sided a fight it was.
Well, at least there’d be other fights, Yote thought to herself as she allowed Dad and one of the training court’s maintenance workers to help her up. She ripped off her helmet and goggles, tossing them to the floor for the equipment manager to take care of. Limping toward the double doors and still digging her fingertips into her neck, Yote thought only of showering and collapsing onto her bed, praying the pain in her neck would alleviate by tomorrow morning.
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The Warning
Insides churning thanks to her refusal to eat meal replacements for dinner the previous evening, while Jett splurged on an entire pizza, breadsticks, cake, ice cream, and cookies, Yote went downstairs for breakfast on Sunday morning before traipsing back up to her room to lie in bed and watch videos on her phone all day as her neck still twinged.
She thanked fate Sunday was a rest day, and was even more grateful that the pain in her neck subsided by Monday. Following a week’s worth of evening training but otherwise avoiding Jett, Saturday rolled around again, and the time came for another full day of conditioning, target practice, and the infamous mock duel.
Yote spent the entire conditioning session thinking back to the previous week, mentally strategizing for a way to beat her sister. Jett came at her hard, forcing Yote to play defense for the duel’s duration. But knowing Jett, Yote thought, as she outran her sister in the beast drill—fifty-yard sprints from one side of the training center to the other, and back again—the girl would change her strategy.
Jett always threw something random at Yote. Two weeks ago, she took a more conservative, methodical approach. The week before that, she baited Yote into throwing the first strike.
But Jett hadn’t used her agility in a long time. Yote was more agile than Jett, and the last time she won a mock duel, her sister tried to maneuver her way to victory. Jett wasn’t about to try that again, nor would she come out swinging.
No, she’d bait Yote or use faster, weaker maneuvers early, then go for the knockout blow, probably with a water strike. Another form of all-out offense, but a more calculated one.
“You aren’t beating me,” Jett muttered in a sing-song voice when she brushed past Yote after knocking out every target for a perfect accuracy rating.
Not only was it perfect, but Dad tried confusing Jett with complicated commands, shouting combos with random runes that didn’t belong. If he commanded Jett to conjure an air-based attack by visualizing and thereby channeling Tiwaz, Kenaz, Eihwaz, and Mannaz, picturing Kenaz, shaped like a ‘less-than sign,’ would break the spell and cause a weak, fiery whirlwind.
For multiple elements to work hand-in-hand, there needed to be an equal number of runes akin to that element, like Tiwaz and Eihwaz for air and Kenaz and the butterfly-shaped Dagaz for fire in the same combo.
Dad used similar tactics on Yote, calling out a water rune like Laguz when she was supposed to channel those to conjure fire. Fire and water weren’t a good combo, and Yote’s fire sphere extinguished before it built even the slightest momentum, causing Jett to double over with laughter.
This earned her one lap around the court, but judging from the smirk plastered on her face, the punishment was well worth it.
“You got nothing on me,” Jett muttered to Yote, hands on her hips as she caught her breath. “You got nothing.”
Dad insisted Yote and Jett rotate in and out, with Jett still knocking down each target.
“C’mon, give me something more challenging,” Jett said, pushing past Yote with so much force that she knocked her back a few steps.
“Jett, that’s enough,” Dad said. “Unless you want to keep running laps until it’s time for the mock.”
“Alright, fine, whatever.” Jett kept that smirk planted on her face before she chugged half of her electrolyte-infused drink.
“One more time, Yote,” Dad said, clapping. “And don’t think so much. Just launch those attacks.”
Yote drew a breath, set herself into her familiar fight stance, steeled her face, and nodded. But after her fire spheres missed their first two targets, Dad held up a hand.
She relaxed her stance and faced her father, who, to her surprise, wore a benign smile.
“Come here for a minute,” he said. “I want to let you know something.”
Jett furrowed her eyebrows and looked from Yote to Dad, but he signaled for her to take at least another lap.
“Wait, why?” she said, throwing her hands up.
“Because I told you to. Now go.”
Muttering to herself, Jett broke into a jog.
“Run,” he yelled, prompting Jett to pick up her pace. “And don’t stop until I tell you.”
Dad waited until Jett turned a corner before he knelt in front of Yote and grasped her shoulders. “You know that little birthmark you got?”
“Yeah, I-I see it every day.” She rubbed her right forearm. “What’s up with it?”
“There’s something your mom and I never told you.”
Yote narrowed her eyes but signaled for her father to continue.
“It’s not just any old mark.”
“Then what is it?”
“Something I’ve only seen on a handful of Elementals, but they’re also some of the most powerful in the world. You’ve met them before at our fancy dinner parties.”
“I never saw a mark on them.”
“You wouldn’t have, since they usually cover them up for formal occasions. Anyway, Shade didn’t want me to tell you this until he thought you were ready.”
“What makes me ready now?”
“I told him about the last few weeks, and he said if you struggled again, let you in on it. See, for you, it’s not an issue of your power. I’ve seen you throw lethal shots. It’s a confidence thing, and it’s all up there.” Dad pointed to Yote’s head. “Do yourself a favor and remember that you’re the special child here, and know that neither Jett nor anyone is as naturally gifted as you. Can you do that?”
Yote swallowed and nodded, wanting to throw her arms around her father, but she knew it would be unacceptable in this setting. It was also the first time Dad showed any true sympathy during their Saturday training sessions. Or, at least the first time he’d shown such when she wasn’t on the ground, injured because Jett crushed her in a mock duel and threw in a well-calculated cheap shot.
Dad still commanded her to visualize runic combos that made no sense, but she phased out the one that didn’t belong with little effort and followed through each maneuver. When her fire sphere erupted into a long-tailed flare and burned a hole through one of the targets, even Jett couldn’t hide her shock, eyes widening as she choked on her electrolyte drink.
“Alright, girls, let’s duel.” Dad waved them over following another round of target practice and the fifteen-minute meditation phase. “Put your equipment on, and get in the middle of the court.”
Once Yote strapped on her armor and grabbed her goggles and helmet from Dad, she caught Jett’s eye. And was that fear staring back? Yote couldn’t recall the last time Jett threw her such a look if she ever had.
Wearing a half-smile behind the face shield protecting her nose and mouth from damage, Jett would only be too happy to inflict, Yote raised her fists, bent her knees, and flexed her core.
Dad gave the go-ahead, and Jett flung an attack, but her fire sphere was so erratic that it sailed over Yote’s shoulder. And a good thing too, as Yote was sure Jett wouldn’t resort to the same battle tactic twice. It also let her shoot fire back at Jett, who summoned a batch of water.
But Yote’s fire attack, courtesy of channeling of Kenaz, Dagaz, and the diamond-shaped Ingwaz, blasted right through it.
“What the—?” Jett muttered, voice muffled behind her face shield as she stood, frozen at the way Yote’s fire sphere somehow extinguished the water.
In Jett’s moment of hesitation, Yote knelt, jammed her fist through the patch of natural grass, called up a small rock courtesy of Jera and Berkano, and roundhouse kicked it toward Jett, busting it into sharp fragments.
It seemed as though Jett remembered she was in the middle of a duel when she flinched, but took no fewer than a dozen shards to the shield. A few rocks hit her tinted goggles so hard that they cracked, and Jett’s knees gave out before she crumpled into a heap on the turf.
Dad held up his hand and signaled for Yote to stay back while he jogged over to check on Jett.
“I’m fine.” Jett swiped at Dad’s hand as she sat up, ripped off, and slammed her helmet so hard that it bounced off the turf and onto the hardwood track around the court’s perimeter. “And I demand a rematch. I don’t know what you said to her earlier, but it wasn’t fair. If you just kept your mouth shut, I’d have at least given her more of a fight than that.”
“Jett, we all have bad sessions, alright?” Dad said, standing.
“That’s not the point.”
“Look, go get a shower, cool off, go to your room, and I’ll bring your meal replacements.”
“Keep your stupid meal replacements.” Jett sprang to her feet and backed toward the double doors. “I’d rather starve.”
Dad smiled and shook his head before turning back to Yote as Jett stormed out. “Excuses are lies we tell ourselves. Anyway, what’ll it be? Your favorite?”
The right corner of her mouth turning upward, Yote nodded.
“I’ll make sure it’s ready within the hour. Go change, and meet your mom and me in the dining room. You earned it.”
Yote often regretted it when she ate so much. But following her usual two helpings of chicken parm and opting this time for about a dozen pieces of dark chocolate with mint icing before watching one of her favorite action movies, she climbed the stairs with a spring in her step long after her parents went to bed.
When Yote reached the top landing, something, or someone, tackled her to the carpet with so much force, a bone popped in her shoulder.
“Owww!” Yote yelped as she struggled to break away from her attacker.
“You get what you deserve.” Jett grabbed a fistful of Yote’s hair and stood over her. “And you didn’t deserve that win with that little pep talk Dad gave you.”
“Well, maybe he just wanted to help me get better,” Yote rasped, still trying to pull herself away as her shoulder seared. “It’d help you as much as it helped me if you think about it, and you did say you wanted more of a challenge.”
Jett scoffed and shoved Yote away from her. “You’ve always been Dad’s favorite. Probably because he knows you’re Shade’s golden girl.”
“Wh-What are you talking about?” Yote backed into and sat against the wall, cradling her injured shoulder.
“Oh, of course, you don’t know.” Jett chortled as she again towered over Yote. “You’re lucky I do some poking around when Mom and Dad turn in for the night. And I know things about you. Things you don’t know about yourself.”
Before Jett could utter another word, voices emerged and footsteps scrambled down the hallway.
“Jett!” Mom snapped. “What’s gotten into you?”
Jett glanced behind her as Dad ran over and knelt next to Yote.
“What’s going on?” he said.
“She tackled me.” Yote squinted to keep tears from spilling out of her eyes, something else she wasn’t about to let happen in front of Jett.
Dad pried Yote’s fingers off her shoulder. “On a scale between one and ten, how bad does it hurt?”
“Eight,” she whispered while Mom shouted for Jett to go back to bed and not to come out of her room tomorrow, or any day this week, unless it was for training.
“She’s not getting a reward dinner for a month,” Dad said when Jett disappeared into her room and slammed the door. “Wouldn’t you agree, Willow?”
“She doesn’t deserve any, period.” Mom sat next to Yote and ran a gentle hand across her back. “But I know you won’t go as hard on her as you should.”
“It’s still something I can correct. But if she pulls another stunt like this, she won’t be so lucky. Yote, can you stand?”
She nodded and, with Mom guiding her, climbed back to her feet.
“We’ll put it in a sling tonight and get it looked at tomorrow,” Dad said. “Will you be okay sleeping on your back?”
“I-I think so.”
After Dad patched up and sent Yote to bed, she still couldn’t help but wonder: Was Jett serious or was she bluffing? “Probably because he knows you’re Shade’s golden girl.” Golden girl, how? No, Jett was sore because she lost.
Yote had known Archer Shade since her first memories, and the guy never showed favoritism.
No, this was Jett’s intention. Say something random and untrue so Yote would overthink it. Classic Jett.
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Separate Ways
“If either of you two physically provokes one another outside of the allotted training spaces, you will subject yourself to an extra day of conditioning,” Dad said before their mock duel the next Saturday. Doctors determined Yote sustained nothing more than a shoulder stinger after Jett tackled her last week and would be good to go. “No Elemental work.”
Despite the new rule, it didn’t stop Yote from getting a death stare from Jett when she won for the second straight week. But her elation was short-lived. Two letters arrived in the mail in the middle of the following week, one addressed to Jett and the other to Yote.
Both girls applied for the Lamerth Elemental Prep High School, the same one Mom and Dad attended. The finest of its kind in the nation of Etharia, the school housed many Elementals who’d gone on to elite universities and enjoyed careers at the highest level of the Etharian government, multinational corporations that manufactured weapons infused with Elemental magic, and in public health and human services.
Judging from the smug look on Jett’s face when she handed one of the envelopes over, Yote had an inkling she wasn’t about to get the news she wanted. And the lack of thickness this envelope contained, in contrast to the one Jett held in her perfectly manicured hand, said it all.
Still, Yote ripped open the envelope, pulled out the single paper, and read the short letter.
Dear Yote Diamondback,
We appreciate your interest in the Lamerth Elemental Prep High School. Upon reviewing your body of work, we regret to inform you that you do not meet a current need, and we, therefore, will not offer you a spot in our school.
We encourage you to apply again for the spring semester with an updated resume of your grades, community service, extracurricular activities, awards, and achievements.
Yours sincerely,
Miranda Hitchcock
Dean of Admissions
“You have been accepted into the Lamerth Elemental Prep High School’s accelerated program that will earn you dual credits that you can put toward a bachelor’s degree,” Jett read in a raised voice, her glowing green eyes visible above the paper. “Did you get accepted, Yote?” she said, fixing her face into a dramatic, inquisitive look.
Yote frowned. “No.”
“Oh, sorry.” Jett looked unable to contain her smile as she trotted toward the dining room. “Maybe next semester…”
Yote nodded and sat against the wall, reading the letter three more times before it sank in that the best Elemental school in Etharia rejected her. But how? Her grades were just as good as Jett’s, and they were co-valedictorians of their age-thirteen class at Kenborne.
Yote was also All-Regional and All-State in field thrashball, though it was the only sport she focused on. Plus, she had to admit that she could have logged more community service hours throughout the school year. But there was still the spring semester, and Yote could easily get into one of the top-tier, albeit less prestigious, schools in the meantime.
But what would Mom and Dad say? How many times did they remind her and Jett that everything they did, all the regimented schedules they put her and Jett through, including implementing Archer’s intense training program, was to get them into Lamerth?
Yote folded the paper, shoved it back into the envelope, hoisted herself to her feet, and trudged into the dining room, wondering how she would explain this to her parents. Jett, still wearing a pompous expression as she ate a large bowl of oatmeal with protein powder and assorted fruit mixed into it, read a school supplies list, and a long one at that.
Dad craned his neck to get a better look at the acceptance letter. “Well, you still need to go up there and sign your official letter of intent before anything.”
“I want to do it as soon as possible. That way, we can officially put the news online and announce to the rest of Kenborne that one of their valedictorians is continuing the Diamondback family tradition.”
Dad’s smile flickered, and the twinkle in his green eyes extinguished when Yote sat and pushed her rejection letter toward him.
“Sorry to ruin the moment.” She crossed her arms as Benedict set a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, complete with her favorite vanilla caramel-flavored protein powder and chopped bananas mixed in. Though it probably wouldn’t taste so good today, even if he used top-end gourmet products.
Like Yote, Dad read the letter a few times before he sighed and set it in front of him. “It’s alright,” he said, as Mom placed a comforting hand on Yote’s shoulder.
She would have shrugged Mom off, but when Yote locked eyes with her, compassion stared back.
Yote drew a breath and managed a faint smile while Jett, her gaze darting between the three of them, looked as though her favorite boy band canceled a show she purchased backstage passes for.
“I-I didn’t think you’d handle the news so well.” Yote took a bite of oatmeal as the knot in her stomach unclenched.
“We won’t hide the fact that we’re disappointed,” Dad said. “But Lamerth School only has so many spots, and there are a lot of top grads from all over the country. But don’t worry, we’ll find the right school for you and go from there.”
“There are still plenty of options,” Mom said.
While Lamerth rejected Yote, she still agreed to tour the place and speak with the Office of Admissions to come up with a game plan so she could reapply for the following semester. Yote knew taking the trip wouldn’t just make her jealous, but Jett would talk nonstop about how great and rich everything was at the place for the entire hour-and-a-half ride home. Still, it made sense to visit.
Yote had only seen pictures of the school and the upscale village it resided in on TV when she watched the high school thrashball games. Or better yet, the best high school programs in the nation. Elite-level prep schools that she envisioned herself playing for in front of a nationally-televised audience when she made the varsity team.
But those photos were nothing close to preparing her for the grandeur of this campus, which emerged when Dad turned off the exit and cut through a road flanked with well-trimmed evergreen trees and lush flowers on the other end of a sidewalk paved in metallic silver cement.
“Wow,” Jett whispered, the acceptance letter falling from her hand and onto the floor of their SUV.
Wow indeed, thought Yote. The first buildings looked like someone constructed them from marble, and the glimmer reflecting off their siding implied that this campus wouldn’t need any special street lighting. It was as if these structures cast mysterious auras that would illuminate the same metallic cement pathways snaking through the place.
“It’s what happens when you only attract the best and most successful people.” Dad slowed the SUV as he drove past students taking summer classes sitting and studying under lush oak trees, while others walked across the thick, emerald lawns in packs.
“If only those in public schools saw this.” Jett cast a mesmerized gaze at the tallest building in the center of campus. “I doubt they’d stay in school long.”
“Now, now, they’re well-funded these days. But I’ll concede that the buildings aren’t as pristine, nor are the schools. Well, I’ll also say that if you have Lamerth on your resume as opposed to Public School X, or whatever, universities like Oakleaf and Paramount are more likely to accept you.”
Jett scoffed. “Yeah, they’re funded oh so well. Is that why we see an aging building with an annex complex that looks like a barn when we drive past the one on our way to the farmer’s markets with Benedict?”
“Well, Jett.” Dad peered into the rearview and smiled. “Some of those schools do mighty well in getting kids employed, enrolled, and enlisted.” He pulled the SUV toward the student center and parallel parked into one of the tightest-knit spots Yote had seen. “Willow, can you take Yote to the admissions office? I’ll get Jett set up, and we can take the tour. Meet you back here in an hour?”
“Will do.” Mom turned to Yote. “Do you have your log?”
Yote reached onto the floor and held up a school-issued notebook that recorded her volunteer hours, grades, and athletics over the previous year before climbing out of the SUV and stretching her legs.
Jett rushed up a granite set of steps and threw Dad a wide-eyed look that said, ‘Hurry up.’
Still smiling, Dad waved goodbye to Yote and Mom before following Jett.
“Come on.” Mom placed an arm around Yote and steered her toward one of the smaller, every bit as pristine-looking buildings on the campus, one that boasted tinted floor-to-ceiling windows, judging from their length. “They should let us know what you need to do, and you can go from there.”
Yote followed Mom into the building, and it looked every bit as magnificent as the exterior. The walls were still marble, and Yote wondered how they stayed insulated. But since this was an Elemental school, it probably had more to do with some specialized power system only those honing water, fire, and air abilities could bring. And perhaps earth, though it was tough to see how it fit into the equation.
Photos of serious-looking men and women hung from the walls, each with a gold-plated plaque with a name engraved on it, plus a short description talking about their memorable contributions to the school. Some of these names were rather familiar, like Synth Brevil, Cyran Brack, and Ulsa Crane, as all served in high-end offices at the federal level during their lifetimes, be it as secretary of state, defense, or even vice president.
After sitting in the waiting area and spending the next fifteen minutes going over her service hours log to keep her mind occupied, even if it didn’t stop her thoughts from racing, the secretary called and pointed Yote and Mom into a room halfway down the hallway.
“Dr. Vossen will be with you shortly,” she said, smiling.
“Nervous?” Mom interlocked her fingers with Yote’s when they entered the cramped room and sank into cushioned chairs opposite a desk that was cluttered with papers.
“Just a bunch of what-ifs going through my head.”
“Well, we’ll manage it.” Mom’s grip tightened in Yote’s hand. “Together.”
Yote threw her mother a swift smile, but sweat burst from her forehead when a short, batty woman with a gray pixie cut and horn-rimmed glasses too big for her face entered and slid into an office chair behind the desk.
She extended a hand. “Dr. Brie Vossen. How may I help you two?”
Yote shook the woman’s hand and held up her log. “I—well, my sister and I both applied for Lamerth. She got in and is going through her processing or whatever it is, but they rejected me. W-We just wanted to see if there’s anything I can do to improve my standing and maybe apply again for the spring.”
She slid the log across the desk when Dr. Vossen motioned for it. Peering at Yote over her glasses before skimming through the notebook, Dr. Vossen wore an emotionless expression, but her silver eyes grew colder every time she turned a page.
Yote threw an uncertain glance at Mom, who ran a comforting hand up and down the middle of her back. The tension in her shoulders relaxed, but Yote still noticed Dr. Vossen pursing her lips before she snapped the book shut and handed it back over.
“Unless you plan on logging a thousand hours of service after school and on weekends, enroll in at least two more extracurriculars, and show us you’re more of an achiever than just someone who attains high grades and plays a sport well, your best bet is to apply for the fall semester in your age-fifteen year.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but high grades, logging some community service here and there, and focusing on just one extracurricular isn’t enough to get into Lamerth. Now, with a name like Diamondback,” Dr. Vossen leaned forward, “I am sure you’re well-versed in dueling, am I right?”
Yote shrugged and fought to keep her voice steady. “Dad trains me and Jett every weekend. It’s one reason I never really got around to many service hours.”
Vossen again peered at Yote through the tops of her glasses. “But Jett did?”
“Sh-She often left me to sleep off the pain after our mock duels.” Yote took interest in a crystal paperweight on the desk to distract herself from Dr. Vossen’s piercing gaze. “Or else I would’ve done more in the community on Sundays.”
“Well, Yote, I actually see that as an excuse. Why not start by identifying those excuses, finding ways to move past them, and going from there? But right now, I’ll be frank. You’re not Lamerth material, and you won’t be for at least a pair of semesters. You’ll need to cut the excuses and start overachieving.
“If you manage that, perhaps you will be ready for Lamerth next fall. But right now, you have a long way to go despite your immaculate grades and talent on the thrashball field.”
Yote would have burst into tears and cried the entire way home if Jett weren’t in the car. But she held them in and beelined for her room the second Dad eased the SUV into their double garage and put it in park.
She’d never get into Lamerth, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Dr. Vossen put on a so-called friendly facade and would come up with another reason to say she “wasn’t Lamerth material” a year from now.
Yote lay face down and pressed the pillow over her head while Jett spoke in a raised, smug voice that she signed her letter of intent to enter Lamerth. Something she was sure to post onto and broadcast all over social media at some point tonight for, the last time she bragged about it, her six-figure following.
As the sun set and cast shadows about her vast bedroom, Mom came in to check and see if Yote was alright.
Yote exposed her tear-streaked face for the first time in what felt like hours. “I will be.”
“Benedict said Howe was finished making dinner. Did you want him to bring you anything up here?”
“You’d let me eat somewhere else in the house?” Yote said, sitting up.
“I’d let you eat all your meals for the rest of the weekend in here if you wanted. Well, since today was swapped with Sunday as your day off, I guess there’s a good chance one of them would be a ready-to-eat meal replacement if you lost to Jett. But if you want to hang out in here except when training, we’ll understand.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Yote’s stomach rumbled for the first time in hours, and she realized how hungry she was. “I-I think I’ll try and eat something.”
“I’ll have Benedict bring up your food and a small table.”
Yote awoke the following morning to three raps on her bedroom door.
“Hey,” came Dad’s voice. “Yote, can I come in?”
“What? Yeah, sorry, I-I—wait, I didn’t oversleep, did I?”
She couldn’t stop the red splotches from invading her face at the image of Jett laughing herself to tears because of Yote’s lack of punctuality. Especially after how yesterday went.
“No, your mom and I talked with Archer after dinner, and we decided to give you and Jett another rest day. We’ll pick up again next weekend. Now, can I come in, please?”
Yote flung the covers off and climbed out of her California king bed. She pulled the door open, where her father stood, dressed in a blue polo and khaki pants. Wow, he was serious about this being a rest day. “What’s up?”
“Your mom was still worrying about you after we talked with Archer. So, I thought it would be best for her and me to sleep on everything, make some calls, take some calls, and perhaps go with an alternative route for your education. At least for this year.”
Yote knitted her eyebrows. “But it’s Sunday. Who’s taking calls for school admissions on a Sunday?”
“There’s at least one. I got off the phone with Archer about a half-hour ago, and he suggested we try the Arcane Elemental Academy.”
Now her eyebrows knitted so close to one another that the insides of them touched. “Arcane? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Nor have I. But Archer had, and he said that it’s not a typical academy.”
“Nor is Lamerth or any private school in Etharia.”
“No, but Arcane has thirty-two different schools in it.”
“Thirty-two?”
“Yep. The entire curriculum is tailored toward your and like-minded students’ unique learning styles. It’s got a great reputation if the quick research I did on the place this morning holds water.”
“If it’s that good, how did you not hear about it before? You and Mom know about all of the best schools out there.”
“We know most. There are thousands of Elemental schools in Etharia and thousands more in the world. You couldn’t expect us to know about all of them.”
“Okay…”
“Anyway, it sounds like a great option. Why don’t you come downstairs with me, eat some breakfast, and we’ll check out the site and everything? Archer’s doing more research now, so he can join us if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah, absolutely. I-I’ll be down in fifteen minutes if that’s okay.”
“Day off. Take your time, alright?”
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