Breksta Vilkas has lived an idyllic, peaceful childhood in a remote town surrounded by nature, elderly neighbors, and a caring mother. But when an impromptu mother-daughter picnic is disrupted by news of the arrival of soldiers, her motherâs calm demeanor turns to fear as she hastens their departure from the only home Breksta has ever known.
What is driving her mother to leave their beautiful home?
Why does her motherâs face reflect terror?
Suddenly ripped from her mother, Breksta is forced to enter the Academy and become a cadet. Governed by its cruel director, Breksta clings to a solitary beacon of hope: her roommate, Hestia. United by a yearning to be free, the two form an unbreakable bond and promise to build a future away from the Academyâs unyielding grip of death and persecution.
However, a deadly disaster triggers the realization that their future dreams hinge upon the pastâand the secret history Brekstaâs mother concealed. As Breksta embarks on the most dangerous mission of her life, neither girl understands that her identity is linked not only to their future but to the future of the entire world.
Breksta Vilkas has lived an idyllic, peaceful childhood in a remote town surrounded by nature, elderly neighbors, and a caring mother. But when an impromptu mother-daughter picnic is disrupted by news of the arrival of soldiers, her motherâs calm demeanor turns to fear as she hastens their departure from the only home Breksta has ever known.
What is driving her mother to leave their beautiful home?
Why does her motherâs face reflect terror?
Suddenly ripped from her mother, Breksta is forced to enter the Academy and become a cadet. Governed by its cruel director, Breksta clings to a solitary beacon of hope: her roommate, Hestia. United by a yearning to be free, the two form an unbreakable bond and promise to build a future away from the Academyâs unyielding grip of death and persecution.
However, a deadly disaster triggers the realization that their future dreams hinge upon the pastâand the secret history Brekstaâs mother concealed. As Breksta embarks on the most dangerous mission of her life, neither girl understands that her identity is linked not only to their future but to the future of the entire world.
As it did each morning, the sun awoke and peaked over the mountains to watch the sleeping people bundled tightly in their blankets. It shone upon the villagers, coaxing them from their slumber. The people stretched their aching limbs on their hard beds andâbundled in blanketsâslowly walked to the kitchen to brew steaming mugs of coffee. Their hands warmed at the touch, and the steam brought feeling back into their cherry faces.
As the villagers awakened, the sun sent shafts of light through the leaves, illuminating the tops of the trees in brilliant shades of green. A river cut from the tips of the mountain across the village and onward, leaving a wide wound in the landscape. The river shimmered and twirled, dancing with the sun, and let the light form gems on its surface. The animals had long awakened; their voices and footsteps created the musical sounds of the forest as they began foraging through the tall trees and shrubbery.
Near the edge of the river, a butter-yellow house and its gray hat-shaped roof shielded a mother and daughter from the whistling wind. The house had a small porch surrounded by a white railing that held pots of Alaskan poppies, wild irises, lupines, and bog-rosemaries. Their vibrant purples, pinks, and reds contrasted with the pale colors of the house. Each flower was under the intent care of the mother, whose hands were always gloved with a layer of dirt or dust. Today, the daughter emerged from the house first. Her hands grasped the edges of her wool blanket and pulled it around herself. Her short white hair was cut just below her ears, making her curls ride up the back of her neck. Her gray eyes were filled with excitement as she gazed out at the charging river that rippled like a horseâs mane. She brought the pitcher inside and filled it to the brim with cold water, just like she did every morning. Then, she tipped the heavy pitcher over her motherâs flowers and watered each pot with her small, shaking hands.
She then went back into the house and placed a faded brown stool in front of the stove. She took everything she needed from the refrigerator and placed all her supplies on the counter beside her. She cracked three eggs and let the cold yolks flow into the light teal bowl, which to her was the most beautiful color of all. She turned the knob on the stove and flicked the lighter. Fire caught, and a blue sunflower burst came to life. Before long, she had prepared a large breakfast of eggs, ham, and slices of apples that her mother had bought from the market just the day before. The circular wooden table to the right of the room now had plates of warm, colorful, steaming food. The young girl ran into her motherâs room and was met with darkness and a pile of twisted blankets.
âMom? Are you there?â she said, her feeble voice traveling through the air. She was met with an unconscious response ofâWhat?â
âItâs Saturday. And ... I thought we could go out to the woods again,â the
girl said, gripping her thumb between her fingers and picking at the cuticles. Her motherâs disheveled appearance surfaced out of the ocean of blankets. Her pale face wore her years of labor, and her tangled hair fell across both
shoulders in white waves.
âOh, what time is it?â her mother asked, flicking on her nightstand light,
breaking the curtain of darkness.
âItâs already nine,â the girl murmured. She shifted her weight forward and
back impatiently.
âOh, my goodness,â her mother said, throwing off the covers and stepping
out of the bed in her oversized T-shirt and flannel pajama pants.
âIâm very sorry, Breksta,â she said as she pulled on her furry jacket, âI got
back very late last night. I didnât mean to sleep in.â She flashed an apologetic smile and took her daughterâs hand.
âMm, whatâs that smell?â she asked, a mischievous smile replacing her apologetic one.âDid someone already make breakfast?â
âI cooked them perfectly,â Breksta exclaimed, skipping toward the breakfast table and presenting her delicately made food.
âWow! Thatâs incredible. You made this for me?â her mother breathed, taking in the full table of colors.
Breksta smiled as her pride bubbled to the surface.
Her mother slipped into one of the chairs and folded her hands neatly in her lap.âSo, Chef Breksta. What do you have for me today?â
âScrambled eggs with cut ham inside, and apples that are dipped in salt because you said it makes them stay fresh,â Breksta said, clasping her hands behind her back and beaming.
âWell, Iâll just help myself to this delicious-looking feast.â
Her mother began shoveling the now cooled eggs into her mouth. Breksta looked earnestly at her mother, judging each bite for any bits of imperfection.
âMm. This is astonishing, Breksta. You have a real talent,â her mother said between bites, savoring each one.
A smile carved itself from ear to ear as Breksta slipped into the other chair. She bit into a piece of sliced apple and felt the crisp juice sweeten her throat as she swallowed. Together, they finished both of their plates and shared the bowl of apples until their bellies were swollen.
âSo, what do you want to do today?â her mother said as she swirled a thin mixture of soap and water around the dishes.
âHow about we go make fairy houses in the woods? We havenât done it in a while and I miss it,â Breksta said as she glanced back and forth between her mother and the forest.
âHow about fairy houses?â Her mother smiled, looking back to Brekstaâs earnest expression before she began to dry the dishes.
âAnd I was thinking we could have a picnic? Maybe?â Breksta asked, her voice arching up as she analyzed her motherâs expression.
âGet the chocolate from the cupboard please.â
Her mother rummaged through their closets until she came up with a worn basket. The flannel layering the inside was pressed deep into the crevices of the basket. Its red-and-white pattern was faded, and the threads had come loose from use.
Together, they packed sandwiches with fresh salami that they had bought at their weekly market as well as two apples and a half-eaten bar of chocolate Breksta had been saving for a special occasion.
With that, they began a long trek through the fresh grass. As they passed the other houses in various colors of light blue, pink, and white, some people sat in rocking chairs on their porches. Breksta waved and greeted them joyfully.
âGood morning, Mrs. Aileen!â
âWhy, hello, Breksta! Morning, Asteria! What are you up to on this fine day?â the old woman said as she waved from the open window at Breksta.
âMom and I are going for a picnic in the woods!â
âA picnic! That sounds like so much fun. Enjoy, sweetie!â Mrs. Aileen said happily, a wide smile spreading across her face as she watched Breksta skip toward the forest.
âHave a great day, Mrs. Aileen.â
âBe safe, dearies!â the old woman called after them.
Breksta entered the forest and took a deep breath. The smell was always the
same: wet moss, earthy trees, and just a whiff of a flowery scent. She grinned as she raced through the trees. As her mother lugged the weighty basket next to her thigh, she smiled at her daughterâs joy of being in the forest. Breksta turned back and looked for her mother.
âCome on, Mom!â she shouted, barely able to contain her energy within the bounds of her skin.
âIâm coming, Iâm coming,â her mother called back.âYou go first and find an open spot. Iâll catch up.â
Breksta nodded and bounded into the dense woods. She flew past the treesâa mix of birch, spruce, and pine that she had memorized like the back of her hand. The ground was lined with the bodies of fallen leaves, their multi- colored corpses crackling underneath Brekstaâs feet. A small stream wove in jagged patterns through the forest so that with every step Breksta took, she got closer to the streamâs origin. Finally, she arrived at an oval clearing with trees surrounding her. The fairy house she had created long ago sagged at the foot of a birch tree; its small leaf roof was layered with twigs that made it cave inward. Only the skin and seeds remained of an orange, Brekstaâs offering that she had left in the past; its flesh was eaten by rabbits or other critters.
The stream slithered around the clearing, filling the air with sounds of burbling water. Birds filled the neighboring trees above and flitted with each passing breeze that swayed the trees. The warm sun shone through the treetops and sent warm tingles into Brekstaâs arms.
âMom, I found the spot!â Breksta shouted, cupping her slowly warming hands around her mouth. She was met with silence except for the shifting of leaves above her.
âMom?âshe asked hesitantly, looking around the trees in her vicinity.Again, she was met with silence.
âAre you there?â Breksta asked. Her throat began to close as her heart sped up.
Without her mother, her best friend, at her side, the shadows of the forest elongated, and the dark parts that her mother always shielded her from werenât held back anymore. Breksta felt as if the forest was closing in on her, the branches of the trees reaching out toward her. The shadows of the bushes grew to immense sizes, making the trees seem dark and ominous.
âMom, where are you? This isnât funny! Why do you always try to scare me?â Breksta backed out of the clearing until she reached one of the surrounding trees, the rough bark scraping against her back.
Suddenly, a gunshot broke the silence, sending birds screeching out of the trees, their wings flapping loudly. Breksta screamed before a familiar figure ran up behind her and wrapped her arms around Breksta.
âHey, itâs okay. Youâre safe,â Brekstaâs motherâs soft voice spoke.
Tears, more of surprise and shock than fear, pricked Brekstaâs eyes as she turned to her mother.
âShh ... Iâm here,â her motherâs voice soothed as her motherâs hands rubbed the space between Brekstaâs shoulder blades.
Across the river, a broad figure stepped out from between the trees. He let out a deep call.âWhy, hello!â Breksta quickly turned to watch a large, bearded man wearing a collared leather jacket leap across the river and into the clearing. He walked toward them carrying a small brown body, its hind legs dangling from his massive hands. Blood dripped from the animal and left wine-red dots on the forest floor. A rabbit, Breksta realized. One that he had just killed.
âIâm sorry. I didnât know you two were in the forest today. Its hunting season after all,â he said. His voice vibrated like gravel against metal.
Breksta couldnât speak; her eyes stayed glued to the rabbitâs body. Its expres- sion, the expression of immense fear, was not washed away by death, and made Brekstaâs heart contract with a cold feeling.
âNext time be more careful, Dave,â Brekstaâs mother said coldly, her eagle eyes trained on the man.
âI will. Iâm very sorry, Asteria,â he said, raising his free hand in a gesture of surrender.âIf I may ask, why are you both out here today?â
Her mother gently patted her back, trying to soothe Brekstaâs uneven breathing.
âBreksta wanted to spend some time outside,â her mother said as she put down the basket and knelt beside Breksta.âI like to take her out here so she can learn survival skills. Something that I didnât get to learn as a child.â
âWell, that sounds like a lovely idea. The children need to learn to live off the land, even though they are blessed with a roof over their heads and warm beds,â Dave said, putting his rifle back into its sling carry.
âMy thinking exactly,â Asteria replied.
âBy the way, I donât know if youâve heard, but some new folks arrived from the east.â
âWhat folks?â Asteria asked nonchalantly.
âJust some military folk from the east. Nice military-type plane they got too. I overheard some sort of runaway theyâre tryinâa catch.â
â What did they look like, Dave?â Asteria probed cautiously, her voice turn- ing low.
Breksta could not help but feel fear at her motherâs tone, one that she rarely heard. It only surfaced when Breksta had done something wrong or potentially dangerous.
âThey were wearing black and carried some fancy rifles. There was also a woman with a pretty face and fiery hair who seemed to be in charge. Donât see that sort around often,â Dave chuckled.
Asteria was silent for a few moments, the information sinking in.âWell, it was great seeing you, Dave. Catch you another time,â she said, taking Brekstaâs small hand. Asteria waved at Dave before picking up the basket and tugging Brekstaâs hand.
âBye, Asteria. And you too, Breksta. Sorry to have been hunting near your picnic,â Dave added as he waved back and continued his soundless footsteps against the forest floor.
Breksta managed a small wave before her motherâs strong grip tugged her in the direction they had come from.
âWhy are we going?â Breksta asked, looking up at her mother.
âI-I forgot about something at home.â
âItâs okay, Mom. We can still have the picââ
âDonât whine, Breksta,â Asteria scolded, gripping her daughterâs hand even
tighter.âWe just need ... to go.â
They made the twists and turns until they reached the edge of the forest,
the sky breaking through the blockade of leaves.
Her mother ran faster as they entered the village. Her head whipped back
and forth to look between the houses. To Breksta, nothing looked awry. The people still sat in their chairs, the sky still shone its illuminant color of blue, and the birds still sat in their trees to chirp out their songs.
Breksta was confused. Her motherâs face now reflected a petrifying terror that she had never seen before, one that contrasted with the worry her mother conveyed when Breksta was sick or the fear she displayed when icy gusts of wind blew open the windows in the winter months.
Asteria, however, had always known this day would come. Just not now, not when everything was going so well and Breksta was still young. She knew what was coming and why. The two of them needed to get away as quickly as possible.
Asteria and Breksta made it back to their yellow house just as the bells of the chapel rung out ten oâclock. Asteria frantically shoved her belongings into a worn black duffel while Breksta stood in the hallway of her motherâs room.
âBreksta, go get your clothes,â Asteria commanded as she pinched the area around the duffelâs zipper.
âWhy?â
âJust go and get them.â
âButââ
âNow, Breksta!â Asteria shouted.
Breksta flinched, her motherâs anger hit like small drops of ice water, pelting
her heart.
Breksta ran to her room and grabbed her T-shirts and rainbow-colored tights.
She also grabbed her last birthday present that her mother made for her for her tenth birthday. It was a white dress that hung low around her knees, adorned with white petals and pieces of lace. Finally, she grabbed her small stuffed rabbit.âBun Bun,â Breksta called it. Its eyes were two solid black buttons, and its limbs barely clung to its body through bits of string that Asteria had resewn multiple times. Breksta held it in her hands and felt the rough patches of fur underneath her fingers.
âBreksta!â Asteria shouted, breaking her daughterâs focus.
Breksta ran to her mother and handed over her things.
âThank you,â Asteria said softly, taking her clothes and putting them into
the duffel.
She paused when she saw her daughterâs rabbit. Asteria smiled. She gently
took the rabbit, placed it in the middle of various clothes, and zipped the duffel shut. Her mother quickly hoisted the duffel atop her back, pausing to stabilize herself, before taking Brekstaâs hand.
âYou ready for an adventure? Weâre going camping to practice your survival skills. This camping trip will be your longest test yet,â Asteria said, a pained smile touching her lips.
âWhy are we leaving so suddenly, Mom?â Breksta asked as they walked out of the house hand in hand.
âItâll be good for us,â Asteria said, her lie poisoning her tongue.âItâs time to say goodbye. Weâre not going to be back for a while.â
âBut I donât want to go anywhere right now,â Breksta implored. Stopping, she slipped her hand out of her motherâs.
âWe donât have time for this, Breksta,â Asteria muttered, reaching out toward her daughter.âWe need to go now.â
Asteria turned toward the forest and pulled Breksta, but Breksta turned back to face their butter-yellow house. Windows were open and the breeze flew through, making the curtains flutter. The flowers sat on the porch with their petals faced outward toward the sun, as if they were waving at Breksta and her mother.
âWeâll be back soon,â Breksta murmured and waved back at the flowers, hoping her promise would come true. A small tear quivered, slid down Brekstaâs face, and landed on the soil next to her house, leaving a piece of her there. Her mother jerked her arm, pulling Breksta away from the openness of the road and into the folds of the forest.
âWe just need to get to the next village quickly,â Asteria murmured, more for herself than Breksta.
âMom ... why?â Breksta demanded as she pulled her mom around by her jacket and pointed in the direction of the place where theyâd lived all her life.
Asteria stopped herself and gazed sadly at her daughter.âPlease, honey. Just this once, donât ask questions.â Asteria took her daughterâs round face in her hands, gently caressing her cheeks with her flower-scented hands. âCould you do that for me?â Asteria said, her eyes pleading with deep sadness that Breksta saw but did not understand.
Breksta had never seen her motherâs eyes hold such pain. âOkay,â she murmured in response.
âThank you, sweetie,â Asteria replied softly, squeezing her daughterâs hand tightly as they began to run.Â
The beginning of this broke my heart. I truly felt Breksta's terror and confusion at the huge life change. The author did a great job of really bringing forth the pain through the text and I felt the heartbreak. The story from there changed tone to be much more uplifting, even when dangerous and adventurous.
I really enjoyed the academy setting. It felt very unique and well constructed. I'm always a big fan of boarding schools and academy's because they always add a quite isolated feel which adds to the tension building so I really enjoyed this.
Breksta felt very true to her age. I am so used to reading YA where the characters either come across way younger than they actually are or much older. It has almost become expectation for this to happen so the fact that this was so well done was such a pleasing find and I really enjoyed the romance more as a result because it felt so right for their ages. I remember being that age and feeling all the ways they did and I loved the nostalgia that made me feel.
I thought the writing style was very well suited the YA fantasy, it felt very fitting with what we've seen before in the genre and age range and I like that. I do feel with this being a debut novel there are some examples of when the authors writing style clashed but I think it was impressive for debut. It is definitely a more lyrical novel, a flowery writing style is evident from the first page. This is a writing style I personally enjoy. I do think that for my personal tastes, there was too much dialogue in some places. It at times felt like a lot and I find it distracts from the story itself.
I definitely think this is worth picking up and I would be interested in reading from this author again and seeing them discover their writing style in time.