YA Scavenger Hunt

Directions: Collect the secret numbers from all the authors on the green team, and then add them up (don’t worry, you can use a calculator!).

Entry Form: Once you’ve added up all the numbers, make sure you fill out the form here to officially qualify for the grand prize. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.

Rules: Open internationally, anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian’s permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by October 4th, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.

Once upon a time …

Nothing had been right in the castle since her mother’s death. Her father’s smile had disappeared, and a brittle imposter had taken its place. Her little brother had begun screaming in the dead of night, calling for his mama long after Lorelai crept into his room to comfort him. And the faint tingle of magic in Lorelai’s palms that her mother had laughingly told her would one day make flowers bloom and birds sing had become a fierce burn of power that stung her veins and shook the ground if Lorelai wasn’t careful.

She’d been desperate for a change—for some way to return the castle to the happy place it used to be. So when her father announced that to keep his alliance with the northern kingdom of Morcant, he was marrying Lorelai’s Aunt Irina, a woman who’d never set foot in Ravenspire until her sister was buried, the princess began to hope.

At first, it seemed Lorelai’s wish had been granted. Irina charmed the little prince into calling her mama, and his nightmares all but disappeared. She coaxed smiles out of the king that were closer to the warmth Lorelai remembered from him. And she took the princess under her wing, sharing the secrets of the magic that ran through their blood.

It was almost like having a mother again. Almost like being happy.

But it was all a lie.

Understanding dawned slowly, like prickles of pain in a limb gone numb. Lorelai began noticing things that shouldn’t be. Fruit in a bowl that gleamed beneath the candlelight but spilled rot once the skin was punctured. Fruit her father, her brother, and the castle staff ate nightly until every piece of it had disappeared.

Fruit Irina said was for those without magic in their blood.

As the king and his staff became glassy-eyed puppets dependent upon Irina for their every thought, the dungeons filled with those who refused to give Irina what she wanted. Ambassadors from other kingdoms left in anger at the king’s refusal to speak to them unless he first asked Irina what to say. And whispers of magic threaded throughout the castle, a web of deceit it seemed only Lorelai could detect.

Scared and alone, Lorelai decided to find a way to awaken her father and the rest of the castle.

The princess chose her moment carefully. The soft summer heat still lingered outside, but the air in the castle’s entrance hall was cool and comfortable, and the family often spent their evenings watching through massive window panes as the stars came to life. Lorelai’s father sat beside Irina, dull and vague, while they watched Leo play with the pet snake the queen had given him for his seventh birthday.  Members of the royal guard stood watch nearby, their eyes focused on the queen they somehow adored more than life itself.

The faint aroma of apples filled the air, and the lingering stain of rot smeared the teeth of those who smiled at Irina.

Lorelai’s bare hands trembled as she wrapped them around Irina’s arm, and fear left a bitter taste in her mouth. The princess’s magic burned down her veins and pooled in her palms, and she felt the heart of the queen—vicious, determined, and strong—surge against her hands.

Her heart pounding, her legs trembling, Lorelai said the incantor that would change everything.

“Nakh`rashk. Find the threads of Irina’s magic and scatter them to the four winds.”

The queen jerked her arm free, but it was too late. Power leaped from the princess’s palms, slammed into the queen, and then shot into the gleaming marble floor where it exploded into a thousand tendrils of brilliant light. The light snaked over the floor, touching the palace guard, the prince, and the king before streaking throughout the castle to tear into pieces the fabric of lies Irina had built her new life upon.

The king, his eyes clear, his memory of the last six months restored, shouted for Irina to be put to death for treason. The palace guard, released of their bespelled adoration, rushed to do his bidding. And Irina, one hand reaching to punish the princess who had betrayed her and one reaching to bespell the king again, hesitated for a split second between the two.

In a heartbeat, the palace guard were upon her. The king pushed Lorelai and Leo behind him. Swords flashed. Screams rose.

And then Irina began to laugh.

The princess shivered deep within as the guards closest to the queen fell back, clutching their faces while their skin peeled away from their bones and their blood bubbled like soup left too long on the fire.

“Take Leo and run, Lorelai!” the king shouted as he put Leo’s hand in hers. “Protect your brother.”

Lorelai snatched her brother’s hand and pulled him toward a small doorway that led to the servant’s hall.

Irina scooped up Leo’s pet snake and with a whisper turned him into an enormous black viper. The snake slithered across the blood-stained marble and sank his fangs into the king.

“No!” Lorelai turned back for her father, but Irina raised her arms above her head and slammed her palms into the wall behind her.

Instantly, the stone shuddered and twisted. The princess screamed as the floor buckled, heaving upward and throwing her against a pillar that was quickly disintegrating into dust. All around her, the walls were crumbling, the floor was cracking, and the snake was attacking anyone still left alive.

The princess locked eyes with the queen, a lake of blood and horror between them, and Irina smiled as the wall behind Lorelai exploded outward to crush the princess into dust.

Chunks of stone crashed around the princess, leaving her a small circle of space full of acrid dust. She was trapped, the debris above her creaking and sliding as the floor shuddered. She was going to die, and there would be no one left to protect Leo from the monster who’d taken Ravenspire’s throne.

A large dark hand reached through a space in the debris, wrapped around Lorelai’s wrist, and pulled her through the narrow opening between the pile of rubble and the servants’ hall. Gabril, the head of her father’s palace guard, crouched before her, his brown eyes steady on hers, his voice calm.

“Can you run?” he asked as he scooped Leo onto his shoulders.

Lorelai didn’t want to run. She wanted to see her father. She wanted to stay in her home.

She wanted to fight.

But though the queen had said Lorelai was the daughter she’d never had, Irina had kept the knowledge of how to use magic as a weapon for herself alone.

And so, as the walls caved in behind them, Lorelai put her hand in Gabril’s, told her brother everything would be all right, and ran.

 

The secret number is 5 For your next leg of the hunt click here or on the vulture