Crisanta Knight: Into the Gray

By Geanna Culbertson

Maybe the gray was not where people went to get lost. Maybe it was the perfect place to be reborn. For in that gray was the potential to be anything, to become anyone.

Returning to protagonist school had confronted me with a mixed bag of change. Some things were good. I was a star athlete on my Twenty-Three Skidd team, my friends and I were closer than ever, I'd made amends with my traditionalist headmistress, and the surprisingly kind grandson of King Midas was doing his best to win my affection.

Other changes, however, were not so sweet. The greater realm now knew about my Pure Magic, and an upcoming trial by the realm higher-ups and Fairy Godmothers would decide my fate. My former princess archenemy was under a sleeping curse, which meant we couldn’t access the vital memories of a dead Fairy Godmother stored in her brain. The commons rebellion in our realm was only growing in strength. And I . . . Well, I'd taken my first life. The antagonist queen's careful planning paired with my hard-to-control powers of life had caused me to snap and kill someone. He'd been a villain, yes, but that didn't placate my morality. Especially given the ongoing internal war I struggled with over my abilities and their potential.

As I fought to be a strong hero, princess, and more importantly person, I was flogged by the many questions posed by enemies, friends, and my own conscience about how I was changing—and what I was changing into.

Would my magic inevitably corrupt me like the antagonists wanted and our realm's higher-ups feared? My personal fate aside, would my friends and I be able to stop the antagonists from taking over our realm? And finally, was I more afraid of not being powerful enough to stop them, or being even more powerful than anybody anticipated?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BQB Publishing
• Release date: Oct 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781945448843

Book preview

Prologue

All main characters surely hate their authors.

It makes sense. An author’s job is to get the main character into trouble. A main character’s job is to find his or her way out of it. As the feisty, trouble-prone daughter of Cinderella, I understood this concept better than most. It went with the territory when you grew up in a world called Book that had a designated prophet known as The Author whose visions influenced the realm’s structure.

For generations our world worked like this: the Author decides what overall archetype Book’s citizens fall into—protagonist or common character—and her decisions are made known via protagonist books, physical texts with a person’s name engraved on the cover. Those with protagonist books are the chosen few meant to be main characters—the leaders in our realm. The details of those roles are not clear initially because the books appear blank. However, all chosen protagonists attend one of two special academies to prepare for the protagonist mantle: either Lady Agnue’s School for Princesses & Other Female Protagonists or Lord Channing’s School for Princes & Other Young Heroes.

As we main characters receive general schooling, a metaphorical wraith hovers over our shoulders—a lingering, shadowy reminder that eventually the Author will begin to write our stories, starting with a prologue prophecy that summarizes a protagonist’s important fate.

Every prince and princess is supposed to be a protagonist, so I’d known my book and prologue prophecy were coming my entire life, just as my friend SJ (daughter of Snow White) had. On the other hand, growing up my friend Blue, younger sister to the famous Little Red Riding Hood, didn’t know whether she’d be a main character or common character because she is a non-royal. When she found out in her preteens it was a bit of an adjustment. While being a main character comes with many perks—the special school, the preferred treatment of our realm’s higher-ups, the assistance of Fairy Godmothers—it also comes with many restrictions in terms of who and what you can be. Protagonists are mercilessly expected to live up to certain traditions and standards of greatness. Meanwhile, commons are free to make their own choices sans the Author’s influence but without nearly as much favor, opportunity, or attention.

I guess each group had its faults—one point against our realm’s structure.

Second point?

Oh, right. It was all based in lies.

Our storybook world was not as cut-and-dried as everyone believed. Last semester, my friends and I discovered that the Author didn’t actually control our fates. She was just a woman named Liza who had the ability to see the future because she possessed a rare type of power called Pure Magic. Since Pure Magic visions focused on people meant to do important things, more than a century ago the realm’s higher-ups and Fairy Godmothers decided to concentrate on only helping the people Liza dreamt about. Those citizens were henceforth known as our realm’s protagonists and Book’s grand deception was born.

Lena Lenore—the Fairy Godmother Supreme of our realm, and regrettably Liza’s sister—had conspired with the higher-ups to mythologize Liza’s origins. A combination of magical reinforcement and time built up the legend. Both Lena and Liza were put under an anti-aging spell. This allowed Liza to keep up her protagonist work eternally in a specially barred off kingdom while Lena Lenore watched over things. And, well, here we are.

I felt bad for Liza—doomed to an everlasting role as the Author that most people resented. She never wanted this. Though I suppose it was a better life than the alternative. Turning evil.

See, normal magic is supposed to work like a piece of clothing—you can take it on or take it off. However, Pure Magic is a disease that occurs when magic bonds to its host irrevocably. When that happens, the host is gifted not only with visions of the future but also one profound magical ability. Sadly, this magic slowly corrupts its host. Liza was the first person in Book who had avoided succumbing to the disease’s cruel fate.

Not that the world was privy to that secret, which Lena Lenore had worked so hard to conceal. She and the higher-ups were good at that—keeping the truth from people, bending the rules for the sake of order and tradition. It was fairly despicable and also very messed up. Their realm-wide deceit didn’t even stop with Liza. Protagonist selection was rigged past that. The higher-ups sometimes got rid of protagonist books when too many main characters were chosen. And the previously mentioned fact I had grown up knowing (that every prince and princess automatically became a protagonist) was utter falsity as well. Royalty and bloodlines had nothing to do with whom Liza chose. Yet, the higher-ups forged protagonist books for royals who didn’t have them. The volumes of my own two brothers and SJ had been faked so they could attend school with the rest of us and not disrupt the realm’s customs.

Who knew how many other royals out there had similarly claimed someone else’s spot at Lady Agnue’s and Lord Channing’s?

If the common characters knew about this duplicity, the whole realm would implode. A commons rebellion had already started earlier in the year due to decades of people in the archetype feeling like second-class citizens. Finding out about the higher-ups’ protagonist book sham would bring incredible strength to that cause. Not that the commons needed the help; their rebellion was gaining aggression and power, and there were way more of them than us.

From an objective perspective, I understood why many commons were fighting the system. Separating our realm into the specials and non-specials was a social recipe for disaster. Nevertheless, my empathy for the rebellion’s plight had long disintegrated. I couldn’t condone the horrible things the commons had done in their quest for recompense. Funded by our realm’s antagonists (former commons who chose to be evil and aim to disrupt our world), the rebellion had attacked kingdoms, not only weakening infrastructure, but killing royals and any innocent people caught in the crosshairs. My own family’s castle had been assaulted and partially wrecked. The kingdom that had gotten the worst of it thus far though was Gallant. That kingdom had fallen to a coup earlier this month, the king and queen killed, and the Fairy Godmothers had yet to reclaim it.

In sum, things were not great in our realm. And not to be a princess with an all-about-me mentality, but stuff had never been more complicated for me personally either. It kind of made me wish that I did have an Author.

Don’t get me wrong; I was beyond grateful that Liza didn’t control our lives as the higher-ups propagated. I was a firm advocate of free will—that one should take charge of their fate and own their choices. But discovering the truth about Liza had cost me the ability to blame my problems on someone. Which—let’s be honest—people inherently like to do.

Unlike most citizens in our realm, I could no longer hold the luxury of harboring hate toward an author for messing with my life. I could no longer pin my misfortune and struggle on a higher power. It was just me. I had to try and navigate the temperamental waters of a protagonist’s journey alone. And I had to accept that living a life in the protagonist fashion meant hardship was a part of the deal, as was the responsibility to own it and overcome it with my own character.

That’s no surprise, right? I mean, the very fundamentals of conventional storytelling dictate that what makes a main character worthy and interesting is his or her ability to traverse obstacles. If a story was simply: Once upon a time there was a princess. She ate a sandwich. Then she rode off into the sunset, it wouldn’t be compelling or inspiring. No one would care. We need the conflict to thrive, to become better, to grow into the people we have the potential to be. And taking on that perspective I do get why, if I had an author, she wouldn’t let up. Because an author’s job is to make a main character’s life as tough as possible, hoping he or she will rise to the challenge.

Furthermore, with or without an author, we all need the suffering for our stories to mean anything. Over the course of the last eight months since this story began, I had certainly come to value my suffering—to an extent—as every wise person should.

Since last semester, I had been eluding antagonists that wanted to kill me because my prophecy dictated I would either be key to helping them break out of their kingdom of Alderon to destroy all protagonists or stopping these efforts. Since finding out I had Pure Magic like Liza, I had been training with her in my attempts to control the power and not have it control me and turn my heart dark—which is harder than it sounds. And since my friends and I had elected to stop the antagonists, we’d been sentenced to one harrowing quest after another—almost getting destroyed by epic villains and monsters at every turn. Oh, and magic hunters were constantly trying to kill us and take my magic along the way.

But it was through all this suffering that we had achieved great things too. We had managed to thwart the antagonists thus far. We’d restored the long-presumed-dead King Arthur to his throne in Camelot with the Pure Magic-powered wizard Merlin at his side. We’d returned Ozma—the rightful queen of Oz—to the throne and saved her friend Glinda the Good Witch. And we’d helped countless other creatures and innocents as well. Heck, it was only three weeks ago that we’d rescued our land and its Fairy Godmothers from a siege of antagonists that nearly broke out of Alderon. That’s some pretty awesome stuff.

Additionally, on a more personal level, through the course of these trials I had grown into a fierce-hearted, confident, powerful girl who worked honorably and relentlessly for what she believed in. I had trained hard to become a skilled fighter on multiple fronts. My magical abilities only grew more formidable each day. And pushing through these hardships had forged unbreakable bonds with my friends.

So you see—through the suffering a lot of good had come about. I guess that was the double-edged sword of being a true main character. You are smart and self-aware enough to accept and appreciate the struggles that make you you, but you can never be the kind of person who just lets life happen to you. Main characters have to take the reins and try to do something that matters—make a mark on the world.

Which meant I would probably never get a break.

And seriously, sometimes I could use a break. The trials never seemed to end. Every victory had a caveat. Each mission accomplished only opened the doors to more impossible odds and obstacles.

Sigh.

At least at school I had a safety bubble to keep some of the bad at bay. Lady Agnue’s was protected by an In and Out Spell—a force field enchantment that prevented living beings from entering or exiting the areas they enclosed. There were different versions and strengths of said spell. Our school’s version allowed woodland creatures to pass through; meanwhile Alderon’s was more of an Out spell—villains and monsters could be thrown into the desolate kingdom, but not escape it.

There were very few loopholes to such enchantments, so at school I felt relatively protected from our enemies. Only a handful of my friends and I were immune to In and Out Spells as a result of our quest to find the Author last semester. Aside from us, the only others who could pass through were Shadow Guardians. These were people who allowed an otherworldly creature called a Shadow to live inside them, surrendering their souls to be slowly devoured by the weird monsters in the process.

Several of my foes had adopted a Shadow exactly because this soul devouring let you get past certain In and Out Spells undetected. Thankfully, not everyone was compatible with being a Shadow Guardian. I didn’t know what the requirements were, but I’d once been told only one in every hundred people was a match for the process. As it stood, I could only name a few enemies with Shadows, and they were much too smart to show their faces outnumbered on my turf.

Hmm. My turf.

It’s funny that this is what Lady Agnue’s had become for me. In the past I looked at the pretentious boarding school as a sort of prison trying to shave off my spunk and rob me of identity. Now, I’d come to be unburdened by it. In spite of prejudice and judgment, I felt so much freer and stronger here than in previous years because I’d taken charge of my destiny. And when you have that grasp on who you are and who you want to be, any place can be your stomping ground. Any place can be your basecamp, your home front, your turf.

No author had given me that. No author could take it away. That confidence and grounded conviction of self came from within. For good and bad, I made the world I lived in. Any higher power that tried to take it from me was in for a fight.

I was no one’s main character but my own. And if I had an author, I would tell her to hit me with her best shot.

atch your six!" I called to Daniel through my helmet.

We were high in the clouds playing our realm’s favorite sport, Twenty-Three Skidd. Previously an all-boy sport, Lord Channing’s had opened tryouts to Lady Agnue’s students last semester. I was one of five girls who had made it onto a team. And I had made it onto a team with Daniel.

I couldn’t have asked for more.

Daniel shot me a glance. He rode his favorite Pegasus—a black steed with silvery holographic wings. My reliable Pegasus, Sadie, was white with wings of purple and green. Pegasus wings were made of magic light and only appeared when Pegasi summoned them for flight. The creatures’ eyes changed while in flight too—becoming either bright cobalt or silver while the steeds exuded puffs of colored smoke from their nostrils.

Daniel directed his Pegasus to spiral downward. The opponent on his tail followed, as did several others. My friend had possession of the glowing green Twenty-Three Skidd ball. He held it in the basket end of his lacrosse sword—a five-foot long staff with a jousting lance at one end and a lacrosse basket at the other.

Instead of pursuing them, I sped straight ahead. Several of our Seven Suns teammates flanked Daniel, defending his rear. I would take another approach.

Twenty-Three Skidd was a simple game with complex strategy. There were eleven people on a team—nine first string players and two alternates. Each armored player had a lacrosse sword and a Pegasus, and the first team to score twenty-three goals won. However, each team had complete freedom as to how they would score—which made Twenty-Three Skidd as much of a contact sport as you could get. This was the reason it’d been an all-boy sport until recently. It was a rough, physically demanding, and perilous activity, and most girls at Lady Agnue’s were not of that vibe.

Sadie and I flew at full speed through the upper clouds, dodging the occasional Lyons team member. A kickball-sized projection orb followed me, one of many throughout the stadium that captured real-time images of the game and projected them onto enormous holographic screens floating in the middle of the arena. Even when we were thousands of feet above the ground and concealed by clouds, the audience could still see what was going on.

While the orbs could be distracting, I loved how larger than life they made me feel.

I heard gasps coming from the arena along with some booing. Another player must’ve been de-saddled. When players fell off their Pegasi during a match, they plummeted to a massive safety net draped above the stadium floor and were immediately taken out of the game.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But risk and danger were an inherent part of the sport. While a few adults flew around keeping an eye on things, their main role was serving as announcers whose commentary accompanied the projection orbs’ visuals. We were more or less responsible for fending for ourselves in the sky. That was fine by me. The scariness made the sport truly exciting and fun.

I dove through the clouds. While Daniel and several of my teammates had been slowed by opponents, my route through the higher sky had been clear, allowing me to cover a much greater distance. By the time I returned to arena-level, I was closer to the goal than they were.

There were two Lyons guarding their goal post, which stretched from the ground to six hundred feet in the air. Despite their armored uniforms, I recognized the players based on their sizes: one unusually large girl and one extremely petite one. Girtha Bobunk and Divya Patel were two other girls from Lady Agnue’s who’d made it onto a Twenty-Three Skidd team. They were non-royal protagonists, extremely fierce and formidable, and my good friends.

At the moment, they both stood in my way though. And we were good enough friends that we felt no qualm about challenging each other. The Lyons and the Seven Suns were tied at 22-22 and the next point would win. That next point would be ours.

I charged into the center of the arena toward my friends. The stadium was a giant ring of blurred color as hundreds of students made up the cheering perimeter. I stole a glimpse over my shoulder. Daniel had made it out of the clouds and was inbound for the Lyons’ goal post, but progress was slow thanks to various Lyons players. Members of both teams were locked in battle with their steeds and weapons. The clashing twist of holographic Pegasus wings, shining armor, and combatting lacrosse swords lit up all of the projection orb screens.

Perfect. It minimized my chance of being spotted. Only Girtha and Divya saw me coming. I rushed at them with the lance of my lacrosse sword extended. Divya did not shy away from the incoming blade and charged to meet me. The girl was faster than most players I’d encountered, and paired with her small size, that made her a difficult target.

As we rushed toward each other, I swung my lacrosse sword at her head. She ducked and reversed her weapon instantly. I blocked it and adjusted Sadie. Divya kept lunging out with different strikes while her small gray Pegasus darted around me—changing striking angles and annoying me like a speedy mosquito I couldn’t swat. I managed to block most of her blows, but I wasn’t getting any closer to my goal.

Divya looped around so she could charge me from the front again. I extended my lacrosse sword’s lance; she mirrored the movement. As she swung though, I flipped the staff. Where our blades would have collided, her blade’s point instead caught in the basket end of my weapon. Bracing myself, I clutched the horn of my saddle with my free hand and gripped the stirrups with my legs to yank the lacrosse sword from Divya’s grasp. My friend’s Pegasus veered out of control. Before they could recover, a kick of my heel signaled Sadie to ram them from the side, and my petite friend was tossed from her steed.

Sorry! I yelled as she tumbled to the net below.

I had about a third of a second to keep from falling in the same way as something moved in my periphery. In reflex, I hastily leaned my body to the side—hanging onto the saddle at a forty-five degree angle to keep from being smacked. Girtha’s basket missed my head by barely an inch. I yanked on Sadie’s reins to maneuver out of the way, but Girtha was hot on my tail.

She activated the grip function on her lacrosse sword, which extended the staff an extra two feet, and took another swing with the basket end of her weapon as she zoomed in. I desperately raised my lacrosse sword to stop her strike, but I had neither the strength nor the angle for a proper block. While I protected my skull from the hit, my weapon was knocked from my hand. On its way past my head, Girtha’s basket snagged the feathering on top of my helmet and it got yanked off too.

Great. Now I had no helmet and no weapon. Girtha was U-turning, coming to finish me off. I glanced back. Through the windblown strands of my shoulder-length hair I saw the majority of our teammates were still locked in combat on the other side of the arena. Daniel’s Pegasus zipped around, trying to break free of the pack. I had to clear the way so he’d be good to go when he had an opportunity to make his final approach. Of course, that was easier said than done in my current circumstances, especially when an additional Lyons player suddenly swooped down from above.

I hastened Sadie out of the way, catching the number and name on the back of my new opponent as he dove past.

It was Chance Darling.

I didn’t know whether him attacking me made me happy or angry. The prince of Clevaunt and grandson of King Midas had been trying to win my affections for some time. While I had initially been annoyed by the endeavor, he was growing on me. It felt odd to fight him, but I had no intention of showing restraint.

Battles before potential boyfriends.

The prince’s steed was white—typical, I know—but unlike Sadie, its wings were formed by maroon and gold light. I refocused on the inbound threat. Sadie and I went straight up to dodge Girtha’s charge. My steed and I swiveled to face both Girtha and Chance as they worked in coordination to de-saddle me. I bobbed and weaved like mad until Chance came at me from the left with his staff extended. There was no way to avoid the smack to the chest, so I took my best option. I leaned into the hit and used it to my advantage.

In battle, one had to absorb what one couldn’t deflect. When Chance’s lacrosse sword came in I abruptly yanked on Sadie’s reins with my right hand, causing her to swerve while my body took Chance’s hit and my left arm simultaneously wrapped around his weapon. The combination allowed me to rip the staff from Chance’s hands, and as Sadie kept spinning, I took aim and launched Chance’s lacrosse sword like a javelin at Girtha, who was right underneath me. She swatted it away with her own staff and Chance dove to reclaim the fallen weapon. However, the distraction the prince created as he whizzed by was all I needed. I threw myself off Sadie—launching my whole body at Girtha.

Ordinarily too big and thick to be de-saddled by any blow, the force and weight of my entire person did the job. I straight-up rammed Girtha off her Pegasus. She tumbled through the air, as did I. Fortunately, my trusty Pegasus was used to my tactical moves. Unlike other steeds, Sadie did not fly away without her rider. She came back for me. This time we cut it close. We were pretty near net level when Sadie caught me. It was a rough, hard landing—the kind of landing that would make boys wince—but I stuck it, and that was infinitely better than falling to the net like Girtha.

Now the cheers were for me. I saw myself on two of the holographic screens. I let the sound soak into my skin like fast-acting moisturizer. Outside the arena I was not the most popular student, but here people put aside their prejudices and valued a good game.

I pulled back on Sadie’s reins and looked up, expecting Chance to make another run at me. Surprisingly, he paused in the air fifteen feet away and lifted the visor of his helmet.

Nice moves, he said amiably.

I brushed the hair out of my face with the back of my hand. Thanks. I’d return the compliment, but, well . . . I shrugged and smirked.

You want to get lunch after this?

Uh . . .

Was he asking me out in the middle of a match?

And was it an actual offer or an attempt to throw off my focus?

My eyes darted to the side. Daniel had finally broken free of the clogged combat and was making an attempt at the goal Chance and I presently floated in front of.

Sorry, I have plans, I called back.

And it was true, regarding later and regarding now.

Chance noticed Daniel and lowered his visor. The boys shot toward each other, extending their lacrosse swords in a jousting charge. Still without a weapon, I had to help in a different way. I didn’t know if the prince or the hero would win this contest in terms of strength, but I knew who would win in terms of time and numbers. The remaining Lyons headed this way, having realized Daniel’s position. Our Seven Suns players pursued them hotly, but I didn’t want the game to get caught in another congested battle.

The goal was right there!

Also right there were two projection orbs. The metallic, magic kickballs flew around the boys, one underneath and one to the side.

Sadie, up! I shouted, pulling on her reins just as the prince and the hero collided.

The prince won the contest of strength. Daniel managed to stay on his Pegasus, but the impact of Chance’s strike made my friend drop his lacrosse sword, which still held the ball. Chance dove after the weapon, but only made it a few feet before a projection orb shot into his head. He halted, dazed and swaying.

I settled back into my seat, foot smarting from the perfect kick but satisfied. Chance’s helmet would prevent a concussion, but the hit had distracted him long enough that Daniel, now diving, could retrieve what he’d lost. The only problem? He would probably reach his lacrosse sword only a moment before several Lyons.

New plan.

I lunged low and grabbed Chance’s helmet off his disoriented head by the plumage. Below, Daniel recovered his lacrosse sword as I descended in a diagonal. Three opposing players were about to intersect him.

Daniel! I shouted.

He looked up.

Daniel and I had a complex but undeniably close relationship. We could read each other well, and when it mattered we worked like two halves of the same whole. All it took was a quick glance at me with Chance’s helmet in hand for Daniel to know what I was thinking. He powerfully flung the ball my way mere seconds before a Lyons member collided with him and sent his Pegasus veering.

I shot forward and down. My hand stretched out and I caught the ball in Chance’s helmet. Sadie and I changed course like lightning, which proved fortuitous as a recovered Chance flew by, narrowly missing me. He pivoted and I saw that perhaps he meant to miss—now he was positioned in front of the goal, blocking me.

I had a single shot before the swarm of opposition players reached me. Taking the ball in hand, I ditched the helmet and charged straight at Chance.

Since the prince didn’t have his helmet on, I could see reluctance in his eyes as I came at him. I hoped this would work to my advantage, but I also hoped it didn’t mean he would take it easy on me. As the daughter of Cinderella, I’d spent a good portion of my life being treated like a fragile glass figurine by people who thought a princess couldn’t and shouldn’t be anything more than a pretty doll on display. Alongside several of my heroic female friends, I had proven them wrong. And any boy who wanted me to respect him would respect me in the same way.

Thus, I was happy when Chance offensively aimed his lacrosse sword at me. He had no intention of letting me get by to score the winning goal.

I considered simply throwing the ball through the goal by hand, but Chance was fast and he was good. At this proximity, he could reach the ball with his lacrosse sword basket and catch it before it went in. Personal delivery was best.

My mind moved like a perfectly in sync timepiece as trajectories and distances clicked into place like gears. The next second, I acted.

My right foot adjusted in its stirrup while my left foot released its stirrup completely. I egged Sadie to boomerang up and then immediately down so we’d be shooting toward Chance at a sharp angle, the open arms of the goal post just below and beyond.

I was sure Chance thought I was going to make a head-on assault—a last attempt that pinned the pure force of our Pegasi against each other, colliding us like bumper car carriages. But that was not my play.

Chance extended the basket end of his lacrosse sword as I approached, then activated his grip function. In the instant before he would have swung and knocked me off my steed with the weapon, I threw myself off. Sadie, riderless, rammed into Chance’s Pegasus. He wasn’t pushed off, but it didn’t matter. By means of my right foot caught in its stirrup, I had swung down from Sadie’s other side. My foot came loose from the stirrup a moment later and I flung free and straight toward the goal post. As planned.

I recognized in those split seconds that if my calculations had been even slightly off, I was in for one painful and embarrassing collision with a post. Thankfully, I made it. My entire body went soaring through the goal.

Radical applause erupted from the stands. I would enjoy it once I landed. I’d scored the winning goal, but the cost was this free fall. I’d used Sadie as a battering ram, knowing full well that she would not be able to reorient herself and reach me before I plummeted to the net. I was cool with this; I’d taken one for the team and accepted that I was going to fall. Though it seemed Daniel did not.

Knight!

Despite the fact that the game was over, despite the fact that the net was below, and despite the fact that he most certainly didn’t have to, Daniel came after me. While all the other players descended to the field, he pulled me out of my plummet—offering me his hand at exactly the right moment and yanking me onto the saddle behind him.

We flew back to the center of the arena.

Thanks, I said, holding onto him so as not to slide off the back of his Pegasus.

You’re welcome, he replied, raising his visor and looking back at me. And thanks for the assist. I had no shot on my own.

The stands roared, and he and I looked around, appreciating the glory together. It was surreal to see our faces cast across the screens in the center of the stadium.

So how does it feel to be larger than life? Daniel asked.

I’m used to it by now, I said with a smirk.

He laughed and we descended to the field. The last players were coming down while the riderless Pegasi were being wrangled in the air. I leapt off Daniel’s Pegasus first then he dismounted, removing his helmet. His chocolate brown hair was a bit compressed and sweaty, but he looked good. A year ago, I had trouble admitting that kind of thing. But he and I knew each other well enough now that I could state the obvious without feeling insecure about it. He was a good-looking guy. Close to six feet tall, oak brown eyes, strong features—he unquestionably fit the image of a hero.

After the refs officially declared the Seven Suns the winning team, the cheering died down and the spectators from both schools began vacating the bleachers.

Crisa! Daniel! Javier Marcos, one of our team captains and a friend, waved us over to the Seven Suns team huddle where everyone was celebrating. Daniel gave the reins of his steed to an attendant, and he and I made our way to the group.

Javier was about my height with curly dark hair, coffee eyes, and naturally tan skin. You guys were great, he said, giving Daniel a pat on the back. Really impressive stuff today from both of you. And Crisa—

That was the sickest move I’ve ever seen! Gordon Sinclaire, our other team captain, butted in. The ridiculously tall prince with whiteish-blond hair grinned like he couldn’t have been prouder.

Thanks. I smiled.

The majority of our other teammates were equally energized about my maneuvers. Only a few guys seemed unimpressed.

Once girls from Lady Agnue’s were admitted onto Lord Channing’s teams, most of the male protagonists had been accommodating and accepting. Unfortunately, there were still some jackwagons who believed princesses should merely sit still and look pretty. I had several such dolts on my team; the one who bore me the most ill will was a hero named Dillain Bardó.

It’s really not that impressive, he commented with a scoff. Taking risks is easy when you have magical powers that can bring you back to life.

There was an awkward pause following his comment. Everyone knew about my Pure Magic. Our Godmother Supreme—my long time enemy, Lena Lenore—had released the information realm-wide. Since the only person in our realm who hadn’t been corrupted by the disease was Liza, and her existence was kept secret from the populace, knowledge of my disease had made most people wary of me.

It also didn’t help that the specific magical ability Pure Magic had gifted me with was extremely powerful.

Life. I could give it and take it away—an ability that not even Fairy Godmothers, or genies when they were around, possessed. Hence the prejudice people like Dillain held toward me. Our headmasters Lady Agnue and Lord Channing had tried to quash some of our classmates’ preoccupations, but gossip died hard and people feared and resented what they didn’t understand.

One way or another, this social uncertainty would be settled in a month. Traditionally carriers of Pure Magic were sent straight to Alderon because of the corruptive nature of their power. However, I was an exception. For one, I had offered the truth about my Pure Magic to Lenore willingly in an effort to save her and the realm. Between the noble intentions behind that, my princess/protagonist status, and my colorful history of using magic for good, I was being given a chance. In two short weeks on Saturday, June 6, all our realm’s ambassadors were meeting for their biannual summer summit in our realm’s capital, Century City. It was at this time that I would be put on trial and my fate would be decided.

Here’s hoping that my jury is more open-minded than Dillain.

I can’t always bring myself back to life, Dillain, I said, speaking the truth. It’s circumstantial. And anyway, it’s not an all-around healing ability. If I dislocated a shoulder or cracked a rib or got an arm chopped off, I wouldn’t be able to hit a re-do button. I am risking plenty out there, same as you. I stepped back and crossed my arms. Though considering you got de-saddled before the second half of the match, that may not be true.

A couple of my teammates snickered.

Gordon cleared his throat. "Anyway . . . it was a good job all around, team. Everyone take a day’s rest, make sure to get plenty of water and protein, and we’ll see you at practice on Tuesday."

Our team broke apart and Daniel and I headed toward the dugouts where some of our friends were waiting.

Solid shot at Bardó, he said.

"Thanks. I don’t appreciate his snide comments, but they’re a good bucket of water in the face to remind me that despite all that, I gestured around at the grand arena, once the games and cheering stop, this is my reality. It keeps my head on straight."

Daniel let out a scoff. Only you would look at insults from a pretentious pinwheel like Dillain as a positive.

Hey, I’m trying to be optimistic. I glanced ahead and muttered, thinking out loud. I kind of have to given all the destruction I’ve unleashed.

What?

Nothing, I replied quickly. Then I waved and smiled at Chance, Kai, Blue, and Jason as we arrived at the dugouts. Hey guys!

Blue Dieda and Jason Sharp (younger brother of the title character in Jack & The Beanstalk) were two of my oldest and dearest friends. They, along with our friend SJ, had known me for years. And like Daniel and SJ, they’d been with me through all the major story arcs since I found out about my magic. I honestly didn’t know what I would do without them.

Kai, meanwhile, was a new member of our crew.

She was Daniel’s girlfriend and a Century City native. They’d grown up together and had been a couple for years. I knew how much Daniel loved her and how much he desired to keep her safe—though Kai was hardly the type that needed protecting. The wavy black haired beauty with brown eyes and light olive skin was as fierce a fighter as any of us. I respected her for that. She was brave. She was strong. She was a kick-butt swordfighter and warrior in general. However, there remained a terrible problem where she was concerned.

I mentioned before that Daniel and I had a complex relationship. Well, in a lot of ways, she was the cause. When he and I first met, there was tension between us to put it mildly. We clashed like a cat and a dog in a hot tub. I disliked him because of how easily he could read me and how effortlessly he exposed my insecurities. He carried an intolerance toward me that I didn’t understand until later on. At the end of last semester I learned that Liza had written Daniel a prophecy that foretold I would be a key ally to him and Kai, but I also had the potential to cause her destruction.

And yet, by miracle and hard work, Daniel and I had gotten over our issues with one another and helped each other grow. We’d fought, thrived, and improved together on so many fronts that I was willing to bet each of us would do anything for the other at this point.

On par with that, since Daniel was set on turning the outcome of his story into a version he wanted, which meant ending up with Kai, I’d promised to help him keep her safe and reach the favorable form of his prophecy. True to my word, I’d already risked a lot multiple times to protect Kai. I only wished I didn’t know something else was working against us . . .

You were fantastic, Kai said, wrapping her arms around Daniel and planting a kiss on his cheek. I swear you could go pro.

It was an awesome game! Blue exclaimed, giving me a high five. Her wavy, dark blonde hair was in pigtails today. She grinned at me. Her blue eyes shone brightly and matched the cloak she was nicknamed for, which currently draped across her shoulders over her lavender t-shirt.

Crisa, Jason said, his own intense blue eyes shimmering with admiration. That was by far one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen you do.

That’s saying a lot, I remarked. I guess chiz like resurrection and bringing mountains to life is old news, huh?

Completely, he replied with a grin.

I pivoted toward Chance, who was standing on my left. You’re not mad, are you?

Mad? Chance repeated, eyebrows going up in surprise. You were brilliant.

Oh. Good, I replied, feeling satisfied. We stood facing each other for a second, my friends watching.

Things with Chance and me were weird. Prior to this semester, he’d had a reputation for being a narcissistic tool and self-centered prince charming stereotype. However (and I do mean that in the biggest form of however), he’d changed. The poor guy had fallen for me for some reason, and in his efforts to get me to take him seriously he’d undergone a deep, personal transformation. He was so different today from the boy I used to know that the old him was basically a ghost. This Chance was kind, thoughtful, sincere, and seemed to genuinely care for me. I didn’t know what to do with that.

So . . . he said. Were you being serious up there when I asked you about lunch or were you just trying to keep me off balance?

Like you needed my help keeping off balance. You were too easy to mess with up there, I joked, feeling a little off balance myself. First he had asked me out in the middle of the game, and now he was doing it in front of my friends. I respected the boldness, but I did not care for the awkwardness.

In all seriousness, I do have plans, I said. I have a magic session with Liza and then these two and I have training in the afternoon. I gestured to Blue and Kai.

Rain check? he asked.

Again, I could feel my friends’ eyes on me. My throat felt hot, and not in the good hot cocoa way. Yeah, sure. I swallowed and my eyes flicked to the lost equipment area where players could retrieve anything they’d dropped during the match. Chance already had his helmet under his arm, which meant I had an out of this conversation.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go get my lacrosse sword and helmet. I’ll see you guys later. I gave my friends a wave and took off. I wanted some space. It was strange, but sometimes I felt like two people, and trying to balance them both around others was exhausting.

There was the upbeat, sassy version of me who adored having her friends nearby to laugh, bond, and share life’s problems with. Then there was the other, sullen side of me. This was the part that liked to fly solo and be a lone wolf—the introspective girl who could transport from a world of sun to a world of shadow with the snap of a finger.

Since the rest of my Sunday afternoon was fairly booked—continuing to require me to be a bunch of different things for a bunch of different people—it was nice to take a moment for myself. I picked up my helmet from the lost equipment table. For a second, I stared at my blurred reflection in the hard, smooth metal surface.

I took a lot of things in stride. And I generally was an optimistic person. But lately that element of my personality felt a little vulnerable, like the shell of an egg. While I may not have cared what pretzel-monkeys like Dillain thought, it did bother me that my Pure Magic was all the greater world saw when they looked at me, and it worried me that it was all they’d ever see.

There goes the girl with the all-powerful abilities not even Fairy Godmothers have.

Her bravery doesn’t count because she can resurrect herself.

Better not get on her bad side or she might suck the life from you.

My eyes fell upon my gloved hands.

I hadn’t used my magic in a week. Today’s session with Liza would be the first since my friends and I returned from our last quest. I’d been too affected by what had happened to use it until now.

Over the course of the last few months I had gotten immensely powerful. Through a combination of practice with Liza and real world applications, my Pure Magic had blossomed. But I wasn’t all-powerful. As I’d asserted to Dillain, my power of life wasn’t a full healing ability, so I didn’t think I could survive, say, decapitation. If my abilities were exhausted enough, they simply wouldn’t activate. Properties like Jacobee stone and Stiltdegarth blood were magic inhibitors that had the same counteractive effect on me as they did on other magic wielders. And for all I knew, there were other magic deterrents I wasn’t aware of.

Every realm we visited brought new information. For example, I’d discovered months ago that my magic did not work on Earth because that world had its own form of magic that manifested in the form of emotional energy, and thus rejected attempts at otherworldly powers.

Although part of me was annoyed by these restrictions, another part was grateful for them. My power was profound and the disease that came with it courted darkness heavily. Restrictions meant tighter reigns on my evolving magic, which helped keep me in check. Powerful people needed to be kept in check. Especially given the Malice Line.

Every carrier of Pure Magic had to deal with the Malice Line. It was a conceptual line that one crossed when using Pure Magic abilities to inflict mortal harm. The more one crossed this line, the easier it was for his or her heart to succumb to the corrupting hunger of Pure Magic.

I had crossed the Malice Line several times. It had always been for self-defense, and for the most part I’d only ever used it to kill monsters. But discovering this subset of my ability was a scary thing. Hence why these days I appreciated any limitations on my magic I could bolster.

You see, this past Saturday the Malice Line had become a real threat to my struggle to control my disease. This past Saturday, I’d killed my first person. Parker.

He had been a magic hunter—a loathsome man who’d stalked and attempted to kidnap me multiple times. Last week he’d infiltrated my school and poisoned me, but in my adrenaline-ridden, fear-and-hate-driven reaction, my Pure Magic’s reflexes kicked in and Magic Instinct switched me to autopilot. Magic Instinct was my most dangerous and strongest state of power. It ignited if I was in a life-or-death situation and/or if properly enraged with enough emotion. I was supposed to avoid slipping into Magic Instinct, as it gave control of my actions over to my magic (not me) and thus fed the hungry nature of my power. But in a brief, blood-boiling moment, I’d sucked Parker’s life energy so drastically that he’d died on the spot.

It was terrifying to learn I was that powerful and could lose control to that extent so easily. Worse though, was learning how satisfying it felt to eliminate an enemy . . .

I shook my head. The mere notion set the magic tingling in my veins.

I put my helmet under my arm and grabbed my lacrosse sword, then took a deep breath. I believed I could overcome my Pure Magic Disease, but I didn’t have tons of ammunition for my trial to convince the realm’s ambassadors of that. Killing Parker didn’t help matters. Before that incident, I’d claimed I had neither the power nor the dark emotional capacity to use magic to take human life. Now that argument was out the window. And if they ever found out what I’d done in Century City . . .

You’re a good kicker.

I jumped in surprise and whirled around. Girtha—in street clothes—carried her lacrosse sword and a giant bulky sack draped over her shoulder that probably held the pieces of her armor. Despite how much it must’ve weighed, she carried it as though she were hauling pillows.

Girtha was so massive it was crazy. The girl may have been the little sister of the famous Hansel & Gretel twins, but she was sturdy like a wall and as tall as a bear. Despite a childhood spent bullying others, this semester she’d become a trusted friend, a good-hearted ally, and a seriously awesome sparring partner.

You didn’t get hurt, did you? I asked.

Girtha raised her big eyebrows, her forehead crinkling beneath her brown, choppy bangs. Really, Crisa?

Sorry, dumb question, I said.

Not considering how aggressive you are, Divya said. Her sudden appearance from behind Girtha made me jump—again. The tiny girl, four years my junior, had the spirit of a lion, so it was best not to be fooled by her four-foot-ten frame. There was, after all, a reason she’d beaten out plenty of boys and older students for her spot on a Twenty-Three Skidd team. Tiny plus fierce plus unfathomable speediness made for a deadly combo.

How is it that you can fight monsters and magic hunters and still be so easily startled? Girtha asked.

I’m remarkably inconsistent, I replied.

Divya had changed too. She held her lacrosse sword in one hand and with the other lugged a sack of armor, which she struggled with a bit. Her long, dark hair was braided and draped over one shoulder. She blinked at me with giant, dark eyes.

Girtha and I were going to drop our armor off at the Shining Ward. You want to come with and then ride back to Lady Agnue’s together?

I still have to change, I replied. You guys don’t have to wait for me.

Nah, its fine. We don’t mind, Girtha said.

I studied their faces. You want to ride Lucky, don’t you?

They both broke into guilty grins.

And here I thought you guys just loved spending time with me, I teased.

You we see every day, Girtha replied. How often do we get to hang with a dragon?

I shook my head and sighed with a smile. Fair point. Give me five minutes.

Girtha and Divya waited in the arena while I went back to the captains’ lounge where the newly added girls’ lockers were. I threw on a pair of leggings and my black combat boots, a simple white t-shirt, and my Seven Suns zip-up jacket. I loved that jacket with our team insignia emblazoned over the right chest.

I took a whiff of it as I rolled up the sleeves.

Ugh. It could use a wash, though.

With my armor gathered in the sack I pulled from the back of my locker, and my lacrosse sword against my shoulder, I made my way back to the field. The net that draped over the arena had been lowered and stored beneath the retractable field. There were still spots of color in the stands where residue classmates congregated. Redwood, Lord Channing’s very aptly named giant groundskeeper, oversaw attendants who removed saddles from Pegasi in the middle of the field. The steeds had their wings hidden and looked like normal horses.

I caught up with Divya and Girtha outside the dugout and the three of us lugged our stuff outside the arena to a nearby metallic shed-like building called the Shining Ward. Inside resided a marvelous compilation of weapons, armor, and more types of polish and oil than you could count. Natural light came in from windows in the ceiling, but there were also cool light fixtures made out of recycled weapons that provided further luminescence.

The master of the ward, Sir Lowden, was busy at the main table polishing one of many lacrosse swords piled there. He had seven helpers—younger Lord Channing’s students who got class credit for their assistance.

Sir Lowden knew us by now and gave us his version of a greeting—a huff that blew up his whiskey-colored mustache, and a nod signaling where to drop our equipment.

A few of the boys came to take our things. One of them—a younger kid with a backward cap and mischievous eyes—stumbled when he was taking Divya’s armor bag. I was pretty sure he was blushing and she was too. I smiled out of the corner of my eye as I watched them interact. It was adorable—unlike my interaction with the guy who took my armor. He extended his hands drastically to maintain a good two feet between us, not making eye contact like he was afraid of me. He probably was. As noted, people had different reactions to my mixed bag of character identifiers.

A boy with red hair and loads of freckles handed us each a ticket to claim our things the next time we came back. The date stamp on my ticket indicated my armor would be ready tomorrow—Monday, May 25 by 2:00 p.m. It was an impressively fast turnaround given how busy Sir Lowden was. All of the protagonists at Lord Channing’s utilized the Shining Ward to keep their many weapons and suits of armor in good shape.

Divya, Girtha, and I left the ward and returned to the beautiful spring day outside. The candy-blue sky and preciously green grass were stark contrasts to the metallic color scheme we’d just been immersed in.

So, has Dashyl made a move on you yet? Girtha asked Divya.

Oh, hush, Divya squeaked with embarrassment. She turned her attention to me, her light brown cheeks flushed. Crisa, will Lucky be able to hear you from here? I haven’t seen him today. He could be on the other side of campus.

Yeah, we’re fine, I said. Dragons have crazy good hearing. And I think since I’m the one who gave him life, he can kind of sense when I need him. Observe.

I brought two fingers to my lips and whistled loudly. There was silence for a moment and then a colossal shadow blocked out the sun directly above us. My trusted pet dragon Lucky descended with grace and enthusiasm, landing with a notable earthshake in front of us.

Hey boy, I said, patting his nose like the massive Labrador he thought he was. He huffed warm smoke and smiled at me with his great golden eyes.

Lucky was by far the coolest pet of all time. He used to be a stone dragon statue in the Century City Capitol Building. I’d accidentally brought him to life before I knew about my power. As a result, the dragon turned into a living, breathing creature with gray scales, silvery ridges, and a wingspan that could provide enough shade for sixty of my classmates.

Liza had taught me since then how to temporarily give life to things so they could serve a purpose then deactivate, not run amuck indefinitely and require me to straight up take their life energies (crossing the Malice Line) to deactivate them. But I was sure glad I hadn’t known how to do this at the time of Lucky’s inception. He was a radiant, wonderful example of the good my magic could bring, and I hoped he would live a long and healthy life.

Girtha and Divya climbed onboard Lucky’s saddle and I leapt onto the back of his neck. Lucky lived at Lord Channing’s since our headmistress, Lady Agnue, forbade his occupancy of our campus. The grounds at the boys’ school were much bigger in order to accommodate the heroic training aspects of their curriculum, so this environment was better suited for a creature of Lucky’s size. Add to that, I think Lady Agnue worried some of our more demure princesses would’ve had nervous breakdowns if he’d stayed with us permanently.

It was fine by me. I missed him, but he was happy here. He had plenty of room, and Jason and Daniel served as his main caretakers to make sure he was content. As a bonus, the male protagonists used Lucky for advanced training drills and flying practice, which they loved and Lucky did too.

Plus, my dragon needed the exercise. He had an overindulged habit for naps.

I gave my loyal beast a supportive pat on the neck then a light kick behind a silvery ridge to signal takeoff. He huffed enthusiastically and spread his wings. I grinned and looked back at the girls. Hold on tight.

We lurched into the sky toward our school.

risa, this is small potatoes for you," Liza said.

She was speaking to me through my Mark Two—a piece of magic tech that was the latest rage in enchanted communication. Modeled like a compact mirror, the device sat on the comforter of my canopy bed. Liza’s reflection stared at me through its looking glass, eyes showing support but also frustration. Her dark curly hair took up most of the background.

I stood next to my bed. Several of SJ’s glass collectible figurines were perched on my dark mahogany nightstand; I’d borrowed them from her desk across the room. She wouldn’t mind. I glanced over

Reviews for Crisanta Knight

[jenniferrobb · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

It ended up being mediocre for me. I liked the premise--what happens after the "happily ever after" at the end of fairy tales. Turns out they go on to have families.Princes and princesses are assumed to be protagonists in their own stories and are sent to "finishing" schools to be trained as such. A few lucky commoners receive "prologues" as well and get the same treatment. Unfortunately, the schools seem to tend to stick to the "traditional" roles. Men are the heroes; they get to do the fighting, the defending, etc. Women need to be rescued and should comport themselves properly at all times. The girls do seem to get the shorter end of the stick--they're trapped within their school grounds by a spell most of the time.And had the story stuck to that, I'd probably have rated it higher. But to me, the story dragged on way too long.WARNING: SPOILERS MAY FOLLOW. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.*****Crisanta, called Crisa, is the daughter of Cinderella. She rooms with Snow White Jr., called SJ, and Blue, the sister of Red Riding Hood. They are also friends with Jason (and Mark who is mentioned but never shows up in this book). Jason's new roommate is Daniel. While SJ seems content to follow the "princess" storyline, Crisa wants to be an untraditional protagonist, so when her prologue comes telling her she's going to marry a man she despises, she decides it's time to go find the author and try to plead her case to get her plot changed. And that's about where I think this book should have ended. Because after that, we're subjected to the group tricking a fairy godmother trainee in order to find Fairy Godmother Headquarters--in an attempt to locate Crisa's former fairy godmother, Emma. Then, when that fails, we're forced to endure the girls's attempts to steal several enchanted items from their school's exhibit so that they can use the mirror to show them where Emma is. Then, they have to escape their school and travel to find Emma, who gives them a list of three items that they will need to be able to break the spell surrounding the author, and finally, before book one mercifully ends, they must secure the first item from the list. During that last, Crisa learns that her dreams have some root in the real world, and also that the council is faking royal prologues as well as destroying ones that come for commoners.So, let me guess, the author probably wrote a non-traditional prologue for Crisa which was intercepted by the council and a fake one written and substituted in its place--either that or Chance is supposed to protect Crisa somehow (even though she'd rather protect herself).

[lcarter11 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Faint tendency towards harping on a subject (reminiscent of the essay pattern: say it, repeat it, say it again, lol), but it's quite an interesting story. Crisanta is Cinderella's rebellious daughter. As in, she thinks it's unfair that protagonist's stories aren't a record of their life choices but rather the story "the author" lays out for them. (When you put it that way, I agree!) She's got two best friends, one snarky high-school type enemy, and a wild idea that she can change her future. Along the way, she rides flying horses, occasionally uses a word incorrectly, finds Fairy Godmother headquarters, and...well, the story is just getting going when it ends and I realized it was a series. Lol, not quite a whiplash-vertigo class cliffhanger. I wouldn't mind reading more of this series.