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“Just because the Nymphs are nice, that doesn’t mean they’re not powerful,” Bronte snapped at him.

“Right,” I chimed in. “Nymphs can charm animals and manipulate the forces of nature: water, fire, earth, air?—”

“In other words, they’re lame,” Dutch cut me off.

I hoped he had enough sense not to say that in front of our mentor.

“The Nymphs are not lame at all,” Bronte argued. “After the way humanity has polluted and destroyed our world, I’d say the Nymphs’ power to heal the planet is pretty important.”

“Sure, the Nymphs are important,” Dutch said. “But they’re not cool. Or scary.”

“I don’t know about that,” I countered. “If a Nymph struck you down with a bolt of lightning, that would be pretty cool. And you’d be pretty scared.”

Dutch scowled at me.

“She’s right, you know,” Bronte told him.

Dutch’s gaze shifted to Kylie, and she giggled nervously.

Then he and Asher exchanged eye rolls and muttered something about ‘annoying girls’.

“You know, I think Iwillcheer for the Nymphs today,” Kylie decided and selected the green flag from her magazine’s rainbow of choices.

Red for the Sorcerers. Orange for the Alchemists. Yellow for the Metamorphs. Green for the Nymphs. Blue for the Dreamweavers. And purple for the Elves.

“How about you, Savannah? What Tribe are you rooting for this year?” Kylie asked me.

“I’m still deciding.”

The Alchemists brewed and crafted magical potions and items. All of the Knights depended on their creations, but the Alchemists themselves weren’t ever in the spotlight. People called them the nerds of the supernatural order.

The Dreamweavers were masters of mind and matter and dreams. They could create dreams and separate their consciousness from their physical body. They had some pretty cool powers, but they could be a little detached from reality.

“Maybe the Sorcerers,” I said, thinking of Nala and her intense gold gaze.

“The Sorcerers are powerful.” Bronte’s blue eyes went very wide. “So powerful that they break the laws of nature.”

The Sorcerers controlled time and chaos and even life and death itself.

“They’re freaks,” Dutch chimed in, grinning at me. “Just your sort of people, Savannah.”

I grabbed the red flag from my magazine.

“Oh, look!” Kylie exclaimed. “The Knights have arrived!”

Two Knights in full-body armor and elaborate helmets strode right past us on their way through the gate. One of the Knights wore purple armor; the other’s armor was gold. The colors totally gave them away. I recognized them immediately as Ainsley and Jareth, even with their faces hidden under those helmets.

The two Knights glided gracefully to opposite sides of the Oval, then faced each other.

“Representing the Elf Knights is twenty-year-old Ainsley Kane!” a voice echoed through the loudspeakers.

A bunch of teens tossed purple flowers onto the field. The purple Knight took a very graceful, very royal bow.

“She wields the powers of sleep, vertigo, enchantment, and telekinesis,” Kylie read from her magazine. “And agony.”

“That means she can make you feel like you’re in pain without even touching you,” Bronte told Asher.

He yawned very loudly.