Preface

C

lara stared, horrified, at the dizzying blackness swimming under 

her.

    Her world was crumbling.

    She was a fugitive in her own kingdom.

    Eragon promised he'd save her.

    No.

    He betrayed her, just like her best friend, Trista, and everyone else had.

    She shook herself, refusing to give in. This was what Poison wanted her to think...this was their plan. Even if it was the last thing she ever did, she would hold onto her grip of reality and not sink into the hole of depression that Poison wanted her to.

    "Sigrid!" Clara screamed desperately into the silence, her voice echoing off the black walls. "Sigrid, please don't die!"

    Sigrid was her friend. 

    Her best friend.

    She couldn't die.

    Even if Sigrid wasn't her first best friend, they were still best friends, and she couldn't lose hope that she wasn't dead...the one person that still cared about her couldn't die, could she?

Chapter One

Y

ou can do this, you can do this, Clara told herself.

    It was her first day at Bluebell Academy - one of the best magic schools in all of Elementdom.

    Clara knew from her schedule that her first class was Spells, taught by Mentor Eragon. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it...

    "Clara!" Father called. "You're going to be late for school!"
    "Coming!"

    Clara rushed down the stairs, tying her long wavy caramel brown hair up in a loose ponytail.

    Father walked into the room, growing his height by at least four feet. That was his Talent - he could manipulate his height, weight, and size in general any way he wanted. He furrowed his brow and crossed his arms.

    "School starts in forty-five minutes and you still have to finish your start-of-term class qualifications."
    "Sorry, Father. I'll get to it as soon as possible," Clara promised.

    "No, you'll get to it now."
    "But, Father - "

    "No 'but, Father's. This is school we're talking about here. Heck, it's your future we're talking about here! Go and finish your qualifications right now, young lady, or you'll have to clean up Mocha's dung for the

rest of the month!"
    Clara rolled her eyes. "Fine," she grumbled.

    "Good girl," Father said.

    Clara sulked as she walked, wilted, to finish her class qualifications.

    Do you have a Talent?

    Clara chewed her lip as she wrote down, No.

    What is your Talent?
    Clara heaved a sigh as she answered, None.

    What are your preferred classes?

    Clara thought about that.

    Math, Social Studies, Science, and English.

    She grimaced when she realized those were all of the classes taught at normal, non-magical schools.

    Hoping to have another shot at blending in, she added Spells to her list.

    Something about the name 'Eragon' brought some memories to the tip of her tongue, and she wanted to know what it meant.    

    What Talent would you like to get if you don't have one yet?
    Clara rolled her eyes, irritated. Maybe Bluebell Academy wasn't the school for her if the only thing that mattered in a Mentee was their Talent.

    Clara decided to answer honestly.

    I honestly don't know and I honestly don't care, she wrote.

    There, she thought, satisfied. I said it.

    "Clara!" Father's booming voice interrupted her satisfaction. "What a rude thing to write on your class qualifications, of all things!"

    Clara whipped her head around. "But, Father, I'm sick of it! I'm sick of all of the fuss about Talents and nonsense like that!" she shouted, with a hint of pleading in her voice, as if she desperately needed Father to believe her.

    Clara pushed her spin chair in with a creeeeeeak, drowning out Father's incredulous gasp.

    "You - you don't r-really think th-that - ?"
    "Yes, I do."

    There was a silence that made Clara's head throb.

    "Clara," Father said, biting his lip. "This is so unlike you."
    "No," Clara whispered. "This is me. The me I just haven't shown you yet. The me that thinks this society is a hot mess and that we need more people like me in the world to fix it."

    Father gasped, horrified. "That can't be what you really think."

    Clara smiled bittersweetly. "Yes, it most easily can."
     Then both of them became very interested in their feet. The silence was broken by Father's voice, shaking with anger. "What an embarrassment...what a repulsion...my own daughter...not caring about something as important as obtaining her Talent...my daughter, not in the slightest interested in her future...Valentina!"

    Mother glided into the room. That was her Talent. She could walk without moving her feet. "What is it, Frank?"
    "Clara just shared some news," Father said quietly, narrowing his eyes hostilely.

    "Clara...what is it now?"
    Clara swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "I - I don't want a

Talent."

    Mother gasped and backed away, like her words were a physical blow. "Clara...see some sense here..."
    "This is what I think," Clara said bluntly. "You can't change the way I think, you can't fix it, you can't make me think what you think."

    "This certainly is news, Frank,"  Mother said, almost vibrating with anger. "Clara, up to your room!"

    "Valentina, she has school," Father said.

    "I don't care!" Mother yelled. "This abominable behavior deserves a punishment! You're grounded, young lady!"

    Clara was happy about the no school part, but grounded? Really? Just for having her own opinion?
    Clara took a deep breath, struggling to form words on her tongue.

    "No."
    It came out harsher than she intended, but it did the trick to switch Mother from rage mode to feel-sorry-for-your-daughter-and-all-that-sappy-stuff mode.

    "Oh, Clara..." Mother whispered, tears pricking her eyes. "I'm 

sor - "

    "No," Clara repeated. "Don't be sorry. I should own up for having my own opinion and not going along with your perfect little idea of how I should act and what I should think."

    "No, Clara, it's not like that," Mother said, letting a small sob escape her.

    Clara looked over at Father, who was leaning against the wall with his head in his hands.

    "Yeah, then how is it like?"

    Mother shook her head. "Clara...we're trying to protect you. You don't know how many Talentless vampires have been punished by imprisonment or even execution...we're trying to protect you from the haters."

    "Haters?" Clara whispered, horrified.

    "Yes," Mother said sadly. "There is an infamous group of haters called Poi - "

    "No!" Father jumped in between them. "How dare you say that name under this roof, Valentina! And in front of our daughter!"

    Poi, Clara thought while Mother and Father squabbled. Poi...point? Poignant? Poise?
    "Poison!" Clara exclaimed out loud.

    "Clara Alice Halfmoon!" Father yelled, doubling his height. 

    Mother shook her head in disappointment, pacing around the living room without moving her feet.

    Clara's eyes welled with tears. "I have to go," she whispered, stuffing her class qualifications in her book bag. "I'm late for school."

    Her parents didn't say a word as she clutched her book bag close to her chest and left the house.

    Clara took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp September air.

    She swung her book bag across her back and closed her eyes, focusing on images of her flying free as a bat under a starry night sky.

    After a few moments, she felt her body transform. She was a bat now, careless and free.

    Wings, head, legs, tail...every part of her bat body were accounted

for.

    "First day at Bluebell Academy," Clara whispered to herself, "is a go."

    Without another word, she flew off to the legendary magic school that would no doubt shape her future.

Chapter Two

B

luebell Academy was all hustle and bustle when Clara arrived at the entrance.

    Clara took deep breaths, trying to prevent herself from hyperventilating.

    It'll be okay...you'll fit in.

    As much as she hoped that were true, she knew she would never truly fit in, no matter how hard she tried.

    "Hey, you!"

    Clara's heart almost skipped a beat when she heard the voice.

    Her eyes widened when she realized the voice was coming from a boy.

    "Gah-oh-my...hi!"

    "Hi, Miss Jumpy," the boy said. He looked about twelve.

    "Sorry...uh, hi! What Echelon are you in? It's my first year at Bluebell," Clara said, failing to hide her blush.

    "I'm in Echelon Two...second year here. I better warn you - year one is hard for any vampire. You'll get bullied by about every Mentee ages Echelon Two and up. I can still hardly believe I made it out alive last year," the boy said with a shudder. 

    Clara gulped.

    The boy shook his head. "Don't worry about it - you're too pretty for anyone to bully you."

    Clara stopped breathing. How could a boy like her already?

    The boy smiled awkwardly and blushed. "Sorry if that was offensive or

anything..."

    "No, of course it's not!" Clara said, feeling the blood rush back to her cheeks. "Oh my, where are my manners? I'm Clara Halfmoon, and - er - it's my first year at Bluebell."
    "You already mentioned that," the boy observed slowly, amused. 

    Clara blushed harder. "Sorry," she mumbled.

    "It's okay. I'm Thackery Hans...Thack, if you will," the boy said, dipping an exaggerated bow.

    "Thack?" Clara repeated incredulously. "No offense, but what kind of name is Thack?"
    Thack laughed. "No offense taken. You don't have to call me Thack if you're not fond of that name - I just find it easier to say than Thackery."

    Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I offended him, Clara thought, horrified.

    "Of course I'm fond of it!" Clara said quickly.

    Thack smiled. "Good. Now, you have a Talent or what?"

    Clara looked at her feet.

    Thack bit his lip. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - "

    "Don't," Clara interrupted him bitterly. "It's my fault I haven't obtained one, not yours."
    "I know, but still...is it hard, not having a Talent and all?" Thack asked hesitantly.

    "You know what? It is! I stand out just because I'm Talentless! For now, at least," Clara replied.

    "At least you haven't given up trying to obtain yet," Thack said.

    "Oh, I gave up trying to obtain years ago. In fact, I gave up actually wanting a Talent years ago," Clara said.

    Thack opened his mouth to say something, but Clara put her hand up. 

    "I know what you're thinking," she said. "Every normal eleven-year-old girl wants a Talent. But the thing is, I'm not normal."

    Thack nodded knowingly. "I guess I'm not normal then, because I've never wanted a Talent, much like you. I suppose our only difference is that I got the burden of a Talent thrust upon me, and you didn't. It's as simple as that."

    "What's your Talent?" Clara inquired.

    "It's complicated," Thack replied. "I can...uh...jump really high."

    Clara frowned. "That's not your real Talent."

    Thack sighed. "My parents said I'm not allowed to tell people."

    Clara bit her lip. "It's okay, I understand..."

    "No, no, it's fine. My parents can't be mad at me for what they don't