The Hidden Kingdoms

By Pamela Isla

The destiny of each person is to live their own and unique adventure.

Melissa Grace is drawn by a magnetic light into a world full of all the magic she always wished to have and the creatures she never thought to meet.

When Melissa and her best friend James must face a prophecy and the loss of the most valuable object of the queendom of Percabis, she realises how dangerous it is to desire something so intensely.

With peace walking a tightrope, carrying centuries of resentment and two enemy kingdoms, will our heroes be alright when the time ends?

"The Chronicles of the Ring" is a YA fantasy trilogy about Melissa Grace after discovering a magic world. The first title of the series is "The Hidden Kingdoms". Written by Pamela Isla.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pamela Isla
• Release date: Jan 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463481820

Pamela Isla

Pamela Isla (Lima, Peru. 21st of December, 1998) is a young fantasy and romance author. Her love for creative writing began since her childhood and grew as she learned more and more. Pamela is a fan of Greek and Egyptian mythology, as well as the classic books of Narnia, Percy Jackson, Shadowhunters, Pride & Prejudice, The Alchemist, and many more, all of which have nurtured her imagination. Every time she traveled to other places, she continued to write. The Chronicles of the Ring: The Hidden Kingdoms was her debut novel.

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THE HIDDEN KINGDOMS

The Chronicles of the Ring

Book 1

Pamela Isla

Translation to English by Pamela Isla

I

Original title: Las Crónicas del Anillo: Los Reinos Ocultos

Copyright © 2020 Pamela Isla

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means or in any form without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional way. Any resemblance to any person, alive or death, real events or places is pure coincidence.

readpamelaisla

For everyone who believes in magic.

Contenido

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

XIX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

Epilogue

AUTHOR’S NOTE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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I

I grew up surrounded by magic.

All of my life I heard stories about it. How a kid with a scar saved the world, how a lion gave back hope to four siblings, how a wizard saved a magic world. Stories about sirens, centaurs, dragons and unicorns, about fantastic animals and unbelievable creatures, about adventures and heroes. Always asked myself if someday something as great would happen to me, if someone would come and change my life. Let me give you an advice: be careful what you wish for.

My routine was nothing out of the ordinary, I usually did the same every day, even took my dog for a walk. No, kidding. Never walked it because I didn’t have one.

Me and my friends met when we were in kindergarten, four years old Melissa got mad over some stupidity and the only solution that she thought was to attack two kids with red jelly projectiles. That began a food war over lunch time because then the other kids joined when they realized that throwing food in the air was a really fun activity. In a corner of the class, under a table, a little blond girl with pigtails was hiding, protecting her teddy bunny from any projectile that came her way. It was while I was running after Jaz, throwing her pieces of chocolate and demanding an apology, that one of them fell in Piper’s eye and another in her bunny’s. The legend tells how she transformed into a demon that chased me around the playground. By the time our teacher arrived with reinforcements, every kid had ended up punished for three days without playtime. We also had to stay after class to do extra homework which meant cut, paste and do other things that at that age we considered tedious. During those days of hell, Jaz, Piper and I became inseparable.

This story began with my parents, Paul and Abigail Grace who normally didn’t give surprises. Especially my dad because he was a terrible liar. However, they weren’t the type of news like we’ll have a baby! or we’ll adopt the puppy you desperately want so you stop insisting about it! It was more of the kind that made your world crumble. Of course, back then I thought the worst that could happen was to change from a state to another. Without consulting me previously, my parents decided to accept my mother’s distant great uncle heritage, as she was his only living descendant. Never met nor heard about him but the moment my mom received a letter from his lawyer, she flew straight to Washington, signed some documents and returned with the key to a house in Minnesota in her hands.

Their words of comfort weren’t useful at all. To whom they would? This change will be positive for us. You’ll be alright, darling. The different air will suit you perfectly. There was one last plan to prevent us from moving: beg for mercy. If you’re thinking it didn’t work, I feel offended, what little faith you have...but yeah, it didn’t.

Melissa Grace, we’re going to move out in two weeks and there’s nothing you can say about it.

Unbelievably, those days were going to be my last in San Francisco. That’s why I couldn’t lose the habit of arriving late to class either. Pretty sure it was going to be a detail that would last in Minnesota too.

Once my friends came into view, waiting in front of the classroom’s door, my feet stopped running.

Again, Jaz sighed.

There’re many things to do, my voice came shivering from exhaustion, breathless.

They nodded, knowing that leaving everything behind would be difficult. Who wouldn’t miss the smell of freshly baked bread when you lived in the same block as the best bakery in the city? Those foggy mornings, how the sky looked after the rain, the steep streets, the parks during autumn… It was too much that shouldn’t be forgotten.

It’s strenuous, truly.

Interesting word, said a voice behind me. "Do you know another one that is of my liking? Arrive and On time."

My friend’s expressions were enough hints of who was the person that just spoke to us behind me, didn’t dare to turn back.

Enter now, ladies. Before I leave you out for unpunctuality. Or perhaps you don’t know how to see the time? I wonder if that’s the reason why the three of you failed the last exam.

The worst that could happen to anyone was to start the day with your least favorite class and with a teacher who hated your guts. It wasn’t that I did poorly in every subject but if my transfer to another school had been arranged already why listen to an extra second about equations and formulas that weren’t going to be useful in the future.

Not to be dramatic but hopefully she rots in…

Shut up!, Piper interrupted. Damn it, Mel. Someone could hear us! We haven’t walked far from the gym and you’re already cursing.

She deserves it, Jaz admitted and nodded indifferently. All teachers know Mel is leaving in three days and except for two of them, the rest have made her life impossible.

Be thankful that your marks in literature and history raise your GPA or your parents would have had troubles transferring you.

You’re right, I owe my life to Jack for never making me close my mouth when my answers overshadowed the rest. And Vivian for always giving me extra books, raising me points thanks to my essays based on them.

There’re still good people left in this world, Jaz affirmed.

***

The night before moving out, Jaz and Piper appeared in my front door with their pajamas and backpacks.

One last time.

It wasn’t simple to admit that was the last night we would be together, less the last one in my city. When we woke up, all was going to change. Even more for me. The clock marked three in the afternoon on a Saturday and my mom called us from the first floor. We had been going up and down the stairs with boxes until everything was ready inside the car that would take us to the airport. That was it.

San Francisco and Minnesota are only two hours apart, it won’t be that much of a difference, Piper noted.

Jaz forced a smile. We’ll always be here if you turn back.

A heavy pressure filled my chest and my eyes started to burn. Never forget our first food war.

Piper shook her head quickly. Never.

For brief seconds we looked at each other and there they were: those girls in kindergarten. Piper with a slight pout and her teddy bunny in her arms. Jaz with the sincerest eyes that you could ever meet.

The journey to the airport was shorter than expected. When we heard on the speakers the name of our flight to Minnesota, a part of me hoped it had been cancelled. I wasn’t that lucky. In the boarding gate, an invisible rope that tied me to my home tightened little by little. Inside the plane, my dad was next to me, I had the window seat and my mom in the aisle seat.

From above, the view looks like a painting, my dad mentioned, pointing at the window.

Really?

He nodded. Like Monet.

The plane began moving not long afterwards and my hands instantly grabbed the armrest of my seat. Despite the initial turbulence I dared to look outside of the window. The colors seemed to dissolve, creating a new and magical reality. It was as if the clouds had decided to give me the best sky view as a goodbye.

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II

When we landed and got off the plane, the cold breeze that welcomed us was hard to ignore. Even if it wasn’t winter, the difference was noticeable compared to where we came from. Though my expectations were low for my mother’s heritage, it took me by surprise how well preserved every object and furniture was. The exterior facade had a reddish-brown color, with a narrow porch surrounded by white painted wood railings. The kitchen was on the right and the living room on the left with a beautiful carpet that my mother bought on sale in the local store decorating the floor. A hallway at the back led to the guests’ room and a bathroom. The second floor had two bedrooms and a study. It was a bit smaller than our home in San Francisco, buy my mom was excited for finally having a front garden.

It was expected that sleep would be difficult to get for me at night, considering it was my first time in such an empty but overwhelming room. Couldn’t remember when exhaustion beat me, but a dream played clear in my mind: I was standing in the bus stop. By my side, there was a boy with light brown hair whose face was impossible to identify. That’s what happens sometimes in dreams. You’ve this vague sensation that you’re looking at someone, but their faces cannot be determined. He opened his mouth, yet no word came out of it. Right in that moment, my surroundings vanished and suddenly a forest formed around me. Behind the bushes, something was moving, so I approached to investigate, very imprudent if you ask. At the next second, an enormous creature knocked me down. That’s when I woke up, choking. Very much against my will, the sun rose. A first day in Minnesota incredibly promising, perfect to start in a new high school. The only thing that avoided me falling asleep again while standing in the bus stop was the book in my hands. If you could put up with growing to love two characters only to lose them at the end, that book was ideal. Those kinds of stories that told you how love could be born inside any circumstance, between anyone, even continue after death was the type of classics that became songs.

A boy stopped next to me, waiting for our transport. Slightly turned to have a better look at him: light brown hair and a peculiar eye color, similar to grey. The bus arrived a few minutes later. A strange feeling increased in my mind, like that boy was familiar. Without thinking I ended up sitting by his side and put my book on my lap. The bus started its way and there were two little touches on my shoulder.

Achilles, he said.

Excuse me?

The boy pointed the book in my hands. Achilles.

Couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, Achilles.

Are you new in the area?

Is it that evident?

He shrugged, hiding a grin. You tell me.

Just moved from San Francisco.

Why have you come from so far, the boy asked while frowning deeply.

It’s a long and odd story. Basically, my mom received a heritage from an unknown relative and now here we are.

That’s...odd as you said, he laughed. My name is James Miller.

Melissa Grace.

James tilted his head to the side and extended his hand to my book as if asking for permission. I gave it to him. He slowly ran his fingers across the cover.

Still haven’t got over it, cried for several hours.

History is unfair.

Heroes’ always is.

Before arriving at the place where my life would start to alter, twenty or thirty minutes passed. And in case you’re wondering, like everything in Minnesota, it was close to a lake: Hamlet in our case. James came with me to the secretary office where the woman behind a glass desk handed me my class schedule, which indicated biology for tenth grade was in the first period. James should have stayed instead of listening to my words, convinced all was under control. I ended up walking in circles twice. The teacher stopped talking immediately when she saw my figure entering her class. For the millionth time in my life, time flew out of my mind and was late.

Ah, Melissa Grace, right? Welcome. Take a seat, please.

My gaze was drawn to James who gave me an encouraging smile. However, the seat next to him was already taken, the only one left was to the right of a messy short haired ginger girl.

Charlotte Landvick, future professional swimmer.

She extended her hand and I swiftly shook it. Charlotte had a firm grasp, possibly due to the training she did. That was a peculiar way of introducing yourself to someone. My thoughts were interrupted by her continuing speaking.

Don’t worry if you don’t understand something! Mr. Ryers is cool, he has tutoring sessions in his free time!

By the last minutes of class, it was clear those tutoring sessions would be needed sooner rather than later. James approached us after waving goodbye to his friend who went in the opposite direction.

What do you have next?

Integrate Maths. Can already see myself failing finals.

James rolled his eyes at my complaint, as if saying don’t be so dramatic.

Are you a psychic or something?

Experience makes the master.

It’s not out of this world, only requires focus.

Charlotte shook her head and crossed her arms. Sure, says the boy who takes the advanced class.

"Some of us are born with what’s called talent."

Yeah, talent to tempt my patience.

Later that day while we were leaving our American History class, which also James took the advanced level, Charlotte couldn’t stop talking about her swimming team.

Are you trying to persuade me?

The redhead looked at me with her wide eyes. Charlotte’s long eyelashes made her resemble a puppy who wanted to prove its innocence. We need members. Most of our team graduated or retired because they wanted to focus on their senior year.

Would I need to survive a test?

Everything will be alright! Don’t put that face! She tried to cheer me up. It isn’t The Hunger Games, not exactly involves survival skills. Considering we’re slightly desperate, our coach is looking for someone who knows how to swim some styles and doesn’t do it extremely slow. The rest is full practice! Besides, swimming gives your body endurance, and your muscles strengthen. The best!

It was difficult not wanting to disappoint Charlotte when she put her mind into something. In the scenario I managed to stay in the swimming team, it would look cool for future universities applications. My bad habit of arriving late to every class would give me an awful reputation in them. Sadly, it stayed with me during the rest of the week. For some reason, time wasn’t a priority when focusing on other things like practice American Sign Language with James. That class was supposed to be a piece of cake where we would learn hand movements like when we were kids, but it was much more than that. Luckily, James was in ASL level 2 and made my life easier. The only couple of things that stayed in my brain were Hello and How are you? The latter being a mixture of three movements which I grasped with my whole heart, considering I was in clear disadvantage with the rest of guys in my class. Art happened on the last period of Friday, and as expected, the bell rang before my brain registered it. Not looking at my surroundings made me bump into a girl in the hallway, we both fell to the floor with all our things scattered. If that continued to happen, half of the school would have bruises because of me and hold grudges. A curse slipped from my lips.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, please let me help you.

We collected our books. The name tag on each of hers was handwritten in cursive.

Are you Stephany Arcus? I gave her back her stuff. Your dad teaches english with honors, right?

She nodded. Her long almond hair moved with her head.

His class is the best I’ve had so far! Do you know what books has he planned to make us read? Do you think we will see something about english classic literature? It’s not as if I’m expecting to read fantasy obviously but it wouldn’t be so bad to be honest. Oh! Just realized he mentioned this was your first term of the school year? How so?

Stephany seemed amazed at the number of words that came out of my mouth in such a short time. She appeared to feel glad that someone appreciated her father and his work so much. Although Stephany was hard to decipher, her expression didn't reveal much. My father was offered a position here. We couldn’t refuse.

Oh really? Where did you live before?

Europe.

Europe? That’s super cool! Never been… I stopped talking abruptly. Could you tell me about it later? Art class starts in a bit.

Stephany nodded gently and turned to walk in the same direction as me. 

Are you going this way too? Let's go together, it’ll be late if we take longer.

The art teacher had already begun explaining the theory when we arrived. Her painted nails stood out as they resembled soft snow. She didn’t stop talking when walked inside, not even gave us a harsh look like every teacher directed at me.

...Impressionism and Post Impressionism, their usual subjects and most representative artists. The result of the accurate application of theory in the painting that you are going to make will have a great impact on your midterm mark. You can ask me for help, but I won’t answer anything related to what was already explained, neither confirm something is correct or not until you finish. You have this class to make your draft on a piece of paper. The next two to put it on a canvas and following that, you’ll hand it over after giving a speech about your work. You’re permitted to take the canvas home, but I have to see you progress in each class.

In contrast with ASL, drawing was one of my hobbies since forever. Even if my talent in it wasn’t the greatest, my creations weren’t simple sticks. However, in that moment, my mind emptied. Sure, the art movements mentioned were familiar to me, but not all the theory that was explained before in class. Charlotte lent me her notes, then I googled on my phone examples of paintings by Van Gogh, Monet and Cézanne. Nature was their inspiration at the beginning. Van Gogh evolved related to his way of seeing the world, making his paintings alive. It was impossible to resemble them, but their guidance would be useful: how they did every stroke, the concept that moved their hands. Getting inspiration from my favorite artist was the best solution. Instantly remembered the comparison my dad did on the plane between the sky and Monet. Before the idea escaped my mind, I grabbed a pen and started to draw on my notebook: a castle in a yellow and green-ish field under a sky full of clouds that covered the sun. Though one thing was imagining it and the other was actually put it on paper.

You look great, Mel, Charlotte mocked me.

Very funny, I gave her a fake smile. My fingers were covered in charcoal so it was expected my face would be too.

In the place there were two doors, we left through the back one when the period finished. Still, while walking past the main door, I couldn’t avoid listening to part of Stephany’s conversation with Mrs. Hera. She told me to get going because she had forgotten her notebook.

Are you aware that not anyone could have thought of drawing a scenery like she did?

Patience, Arcus, our teacher interrupted her. You must be an expert on that.

A strong wind made my pencil fall to the floor, making an undesirable sound that made me run down the stairs, trying to reach Charlotte who had disappeared long ago. My heart was beating furiously. It seemed they were talking about me but maybe it was just too much charcoal in my lungs.

Melissa, what’s wrong?, a voice asked behind me.

James caught my attention. It’s nothing...

He narrowed his eyes, not believing me for a second. Are you sure?

James fixed his stare directly on me and I found myself incapable of moving, like he could convince me of anything. His eyes seemed to know about my lies.

I heard Hera, the art teacher, and Stephany talking in an ambiguous way… Don’t think it was anything important, only heard a couple of seconds before leaving.

What were they talking about?

About this, handed him my painting’s draft.

I’ve seen something similar in a dream, he mumbled. Seems familiar.

With what?

In that instant, a coal haired boy around our age