Raffiela was glad to be out of the cramped classroom. Her school had almost twice the number of kids it was supposed to hold, and that meant every seat in the classrooms were full. Some rooms even had to cram extra seats into them. She was glad to be away from the teacher as well. He was a nice enough man, but he had long lost the zest required to keep a group of teenagers interested in his lectures.

Raffiela noticed an unfortunate chip in her red nail polish as she examined her hands. She had painted her nails in a rainbow theme, but at some point she must have struck her ring finger on something, causing a chip in the varnish.

Raffiela clucked her tongue, and then she jumped when the principal’s office door opened a second later. She looked up from her nails to find a balding man in a crisp suit looking at the group of kids who were sitting outside his office door.

“Raffiela Lobo, it’s your turn,” the man called, speaking in their native Caladhian language.

Raffiela stood from her seat, and she followed the man into his office. There was already a man behind the desk, and her heart sped at the sight of him. He had gray and white hair with streaks of black through it, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His eyes lifted from the papers in front of him for a second before he went back to reading.

His name was Santiago Urbina. Raffiela had seen him several times in interviews online and on TV. He was a Campeão who had been born only a few countries away from her home country of Brasia.

“Please sit, Miss Lobo,” Urbina said, gesturing toward the chair in front of the principal’s desk.

Raffiela sat. A quick look around the room told her that her principal had already left.

“Good grades,” Urbina said. “Clean record. Participate in a few clubs. It all looks good.”

Uncertain what to do, Raffiela thanked the man, and she felt her cheeks grow hot as she realized she must have sounded stupid. She gulped as she watched him scour through a file about her.

After a few minutes, Urbina let the files sit on the desk, and he plopped a small bag on top of the files. He told her to close her eyes and turn while holding out her arm. It was an odd request, but she did as he asked. She felt something fall into her hand, and she almost opened her eyes without being asked to.

Raffiela heard the croaking of a frog, and she opened her eyes with a gasp. She sat on a fallen log in the middle of a forest she was sure she had seen in a popular Emmerikan film—a fantasy one full of magicians and strange creatures. A leather-wrapped crystal rested in her lap.

There was another croak—the only sound in the forest, she realized. When she turned to follow the sound, instead of a frog, she found a large wolf sitting close to her. His fur was gray, and he had a big, bushy tail. He cocked his head to the side as she stared at him.

“Raffiela,” a voice said. “I am glad to have finally met you, my Campeã.”

“Campeã?”

“I am the God humans sometimes call the Engorged Frog, the beast that once swallowed the ocean. I have chosen you as my Campeã. You are to overcome your gluttony in the Trial of the Gods.”

Raffiela blinked at the wolf, the only other living thing she could see inside the forest. It made a low groan, and it lowered its snout until it rested on her knee. Warmth spread throughout her body, and she felt her muscles relax. She had not even realized how tense she had been.

“Gluttony?”

There was another frog croak from right beside her, and she spun toward the sound. An enormous frog sat beside her on the log. He was lime green with a paler underbelly, and he must have been about a half meter in length. His bulbous body looked more like a toad than a frog to her, but according to that voice, she was looking at the God, the Engorged Frog.

“You need not understand why I have chosen you now,” the Frog said to her. “There are some things you must discover on your own, but I am looking forward to seeing how far you and the other Campeãoes come this time.”

“You’re not going to explain anything to me?” Raffiela realized.

“I am not among the more powerful of the Gods, so I cannot keep you here for long. The other Campeãoes will tell you everything you will need to know. I wish you luck, my Campeã.”

The Frog shifted on the log, and then He leaped toward her face. She squealed, and she threw her arms over her face.

But nothing struck her.

Raffiela was looking at a door, the one she had gone through to enter the Principal’s office. There was a warm weight in her hand. She turned in her chair to look at it. It was a leather-wrapped crystal, just like the one she had been holding in the forest, but it was glowing orange.

“I see the Frog chose you.”

Raffiela looked at the man sitting behind the desk. He looked amused.

“I remember when I was chosen as a Campeã,” Urbina said. “It was confusing a first. We have little time to go over it right now, though. We have to keep going so we can protect you, but I need you to go through the other door. I’ve sent a message to your principal already. He’ll give you some paperwork, and then someone will escort you home.”

Raffiela looked at the door he had mentioned. It was behind the principal’s desk, and it led to a different hallway. She turned her gaze toward the thing in her hand.

“That is called a Handle,” Urbina explained. “It’s a weapon, but you won’t be learning to use it for a while. I need you to put that in a bag so we can ship it to you at your new location.”

Urbina pointed toward the bag laying on the principal’s desk. Her files remained underneath it. Raffiela placed her crystal—her “Handle”—inside the bag, and Urbina thanked her as he pulled it closed.

The man urged her to exit the office, and she stood from the chair and stumbled toward the door.

***

Raffiela had elected to take Anglan in school, and while she had done well, she was by no means fluent in the language. None of the other three Campeãoes who were already at the Compound understood a single word in Caladhian. It was no surprise, really, because Campeãoes tended to come from all over the world, but she was not as comfortable with Anglan as she would need to be to hold a decent conversation with anyone there.

Raffiela had been told there were people who could help her communicate with them, but she knew it would be frustrating to have to speak through another person all the time. At least she had some simple words she could understand under her belt, and she would be able to learn quickly because of it.

It would be a great distraction from the strange hollowness she felt in her chest.

All of her life, Raffiela had grown up in a house full of family. Her grandparents on her mother’s side had lived with her for as long as she could remember, and her grandparents on her father’s side had lived in a nearby house with her aunt and uncle. So many of her family members had always been close to her, and now she was far away and unable to contact them while she was training.

For two years as she had read in the thick stack of documents she had been given. She would be stuck training inside the Compound for two years before they would begin the Trials.

The pride Raffiela had seen in their faces when she had told them the news had brought a warmth to her heart she had never felt before, but it had drained away when she realized there was a chance she would never see them again or never even get to hear their voices over the phone again.

The Compound was impressive in size and aesthetic, and the house felt like a dream. She met Dawn, the first found Campeã of her generation, in the front lobby, and she was like a bolt of lightning—boundless energy that flitted from one place to the other. She showed her everything in her room before she kindly went away to let Raffiela settle in.

Raffiela’s bedroom was across the hall from the girl. It was a much bigger space than she had expected. Posters from her favorite movies and bands had already been hung on the walls—framed instead of taped. She had a laptop on her desk, and there was a bookshelf full of many different knick-knacks and books she had had at home.

Before Dawn had even left, Raffiela had felt her throat tighten and eyes grow hot, and once she was alone, she let the emotions flow through her. She flopped onto her bed and buried her face into her pillow, and when she realized it was the same pillow she used at home, she cried harder.