From the Publisher

In a magical realm, three teenage girls-Jade, Opal, and Amber-are chosen to fulfil an ancient prophecy. Although they meet as strangers, they must learn to trust one another with their lives as they embark on an epic journey, armed only with magical stones. On the day of their fourteenth birthdays, they set out on a quest that will require them to leave their homes and families to face fierce enemies in an effort to save an enchanted land called Fairytale, where magic reigns and evil is unknown. At the same time, in a parallel world, a young girl named Joa fights for her life in a hospital bed in Paris. While she is dreaming, she is transported to a magical realm where three young heroines fight a spectacular battle. Their success or failure will determine the fate of Fairytale.and Joa's survival. In 2002, Flavia Bujor became a media sensation around the world with this much heralded debut. Her novel has now been published in more than twenty-one countries and remains a bestseller in France and Germany. Her spontaneous, inspired voice and richly imagined world make The Prophecy of the Stones a truly enchanting fantasy.

Publishers Weekly

In an old-fashioned realm, three 14-year-old girls from very different stations in life are brought together by three magical stones and an ominous Prophecy. "The prose and the plotting, exceptional for a teenager, may seem mannered or conventional by other standards," PW wrote. Ages 10-up. (Apr.) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.

Christopher Moning - Children's Literature

Thirteen-year-old French author Flavia Bujor caused a big sensation in 2002 with the publication of this fantasy novel. Two years later, her European bestseller is available in twenty-one countries. The story centers around three girls, Jade, Opal, and Amber, all of whom on their fourteenth birthdays discover that their parents are not who they thought they were. Forced to leave their respective homes, the three are given scant information about their quest—only that the other girls are their enemies. The girls develop an uneasy alliance, however, as they journey to a land called Fairytale, where the Army of Darkness is destined to battle the Army of Light. The Army of Darkness is controlled by an inhuman incarnation of evil known as the Thirteenth Councilor. Meanwhile, the Nameless One, a knight errant unsure of his identity, wonders whether he is the Chosen One that the prophecy has foretold will lead the Army of Light. Interwoven in the storyline are short narratives about Joa, a modern-day girl who is fighting for her life in the hospital. Joa's vivid dreams of three girls named after gems alternately cause her despair and then hope. Bujor ties all the threads of plot together nicely, an astonishing feat when one considers her youth. Her greatest accomplishment is the clever and clear description of the girls' characters: Jade is haughty and proud; Opal serious and calm; and Amber, poor and sensitive. 2004 (orig. 2002), Miramax Books/Hyperion, Ages 10 to 14.

Merideth Jenson-Benjamin - VOYA

On their thirteenth birthdays, three girls who have never met, Opal, Amber, and Jade, are each given a magical stone. It is slowly revealed to them that they are the three "Stones" named in The Prophecy, an ancient text that foretells the overthrow of the Council of Twelve, despotic rulers who control the populace through a rigid class system and mental telepathy. Wary of each other and of the parts they are to play in the Prophecy, the girls travel to Fairytale, the only land not controlled by the Council and home to magic and mythical creatures. The Council and the Army of Darkness, however, have begun an assault on Fairytale, staged from within its borders. The Stones must identify the Chosen One who will lead the Army of Light, and then they must defeat the Council in the mysterious city of Thaar. The journey of the Stones is framed by the thoughts of Joa, a terminally ill girl in the present, who dreams about the Stones and their quest. This book is disappointing, feeling hurried and unfinished. A lot of time is spent moving characters from one place to another in anticipation of climatic events or revelations. When the girls arrive at their destination, the events are not that climactic, the revelations are rushed, and the book quickly moves on to the next leg of the journey. Characters are hurriedly introduced and then dropped. The musings of Joa are jarring and add little to the overall story, except for the swift and confusing ending. Fifteen-year-old Bujor's age might increase this title's popularity, and it could appeal to teens who like "girls and horses" fantasies, but see Tamora Pierce and Kristen Britain for better examples of these types of books. VOYA Codes 2Q 2P M J S(Better editing or work by the author might have warranted a 3Q; For the YA with a special interest in the subject; Middle School, defined as grades 6 to 8; Junior High, defined as grades 7 to 9; Senior High, defined as grades 10 to 12). 2004 (orig. 2002), Hyperion/Miramax, 288p., Ages 11 to 18.

School Library Journal

Gr 7-9-Jade, Amber, and Opal meet for the first time when they are 14 and find that their destinies are inextricably intertwined in some way that they have yet to discover. Each girl possesses a stone that matches her name. These stones have great power and are related to an ancient prophecy about the saving of the Light. The girls embark on a quest to understand their role in life and, in the process, enter the kingdom of Fairytale, where some of the magical beings are good, and some are evil. Another key figure is a knight errant who calls himself the Nameless One, who is also destined to be part of the fulfilling of the Prophecy. This is a long, involved story that often takes on the quality of a B movie. The style is somewhat flat and the voice is very youthful. Characters are constantly explaining situations and history. There is a dependence on magical objects that descend willy-nilly into the story and chance meetings in which the girls and the Nameless One are immediately known and accepted. Dialogue is stiff. While there are some interesting fantastical creatures and plot twists, there are also some very odd elements. Death, for instance, is "on strike" so no one can die. There is a small parallel story of a dying girl in a Paris hospital who has dreams that somehow relate to Jade, Opal, and Amber. The purpose of this device remains fuzzy to the end. Jacket information reveals that the author is 15 years old. While the story is a definite accomplishment for one so young, it is not a polished or mature work of fiction.-Bruce Anne Shook, Mendenhall Middle School, Greensboro, NC Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Weak writing ruins a potentially interesting relationship between main plot and mysterious frame story. On their 14th birthdays, three unacquainted girls-a duke's daughter, a commoner, and a peasant-are each given a magic stone and sent from their homes with barely any explanation. Following a prophecy without knowing what it is, Jade, Opal, and Amber make their way to a land called Fairytale. Unlike the Outside, where "people are deprived of their liberty . . . dreams . . . ambition," Fairytale is considered "free." But there's really no indication of material or moral difference between the lands and both are left frustratingly blank. Bujor tells of emotion, identity, and character growth without showing them, leaving characters generic even as their feelings ricochet implausibly. Meanwhile, possibly in another time, a hospitalized girl struggles for life-but even this cryptic frame fails to satisfy in the end. Without substance. (Fantasy. 10-13)

Product Details

• Table of Contents
• Read a Sample Chapter

Table of Contents

Read a Sample Chapter

THE Prophecy OF THE Stones

HYPERION BOOKS FOR CHILDREN

Chapter One

THE OLD MAN READ THE PASSAGE IN THE PROPHECY once more and nodded solemnly. "Soon, very soon," he muttered. Rising with difficulty from his chair, he turned to face the Duke of Divulyon, who was waiting anxiously before him.

"Well?" asked the duke.

The old man sighed deeply. He seemed exhausted. His face was etched with countless wrinkles. His back was bent, and he could barely stand on his trembling legs. Collapsing into an armchair, he said weakly, "I cannot change a thing. She will follow her destiny."

"Theodon, you are a wise man," said the duke, his voice rising in obvious distress. "You have devoted your entire life to understanding the Prophecy. You helped my father. You have helped me. You have advised me, supported me. Do not abandon me now! She must live. She must triumph, whatever happens. She is so young! To think that soon ... What can I do to protect her, Theodon?"

Holding his head in his hands, the old man remained silent for a long time.

"I love her as much as you do," he replied at last. "I watched her grow up, and even though it goes against my better judgment, I have become fond of her. But she will not escape the Prophecy. Believe me, if I could have helped her, I would have been the first to do so. You ask mehow she can be protected? You cannot protect her! Try to understand that! All you have to do is give her what is rightfully hers when the day comes. Now, go. Go and spend the few moments you have left with her."

"Fourteen years have passed much too quickly," murmured the duke in weary resignation. Then he left the room.

The old man stared at the flames blazing in the hearth. The Prophecy would he fulfilled. Now it was only a matter of days. He had waited for this moment, had longed for it impatiently. Soon all his questions would be answered. He shivered. It was foolish of him to have become attached to the child; he shouldn't have done that. The Prophecy had taken on another meaning: in those obscure pages where he had tried so hard to read the future and to understand the upheaval that was to come, he no longer saw anything except the fate of a girl named Jade.

That same girl was lying sprawled across her bed. She was feeling much too restless to read the book in her hands, and there was a faraway look in her eyes. Roused from her reverie by a sudden knock at the door, she leaped to her feet, calling, "Come in!"

A servant opened the door a crack, and said, "Your father wishes to speak to you. Will you receive him now?"

Surprised that her father was not busy at that hour, Jade gave her consent, and the servant retired.

Jade smoothed down her long black hair, then tossed it over her shoulders. She looked in the mirror and approved of what she saw. True, her smile revealed teeth with slight gaps between them; her eyelashes were perhaps a bit too thick; and she was constantly brushing back a few rebellious stray locks. Whenever she became irritated (which happened often), her cheeks grew red and she lost the self-conscious expression she usually wore. However, she knew she was tall, slender, and beautiful, and she always dressed with care. She was sure of herself. She knew that whatever she wanted, she could get.

While she was smiling knowingly at her reflection, her father entered the room. She went to him, and he hugged her with unusual affection. Although he loved his daughter, he did not normally show his feelings so openly. Reserved by nature, he was always cool and composed. And yet, that day, something was making him behave differently. Releasing Jade from his embrace, he studied her for a moment without speaking. Once again he admired the striking intensity of her green eyes. She is brave and tenacious, he reflected, trying to reassure himself, and she has a strong character. Her features betrayed that character: you could see in her face that she was proud and determined, but capricious and stubborn as well. Lost in thought, her father could not stop gazing at her.

It was Jade who broke the silence.

"Papa, is something the matter? Don't you have any important business to attend to? Why aren't you reading stacks of documents, or dealing with thousands of tasks as you do every other day? Is something serious keeping you from your work? Is it my fault?"

This last question was asked with feigned innocence, and her father answered with a forced smile.

"No, no, Jade, nothing's wrong. I've just got a bit of free time, that's all. I know it doesn't happen very often, but, as you can see, it does happen! So, how are you?"

"Not long now till the party," she replied eagerly. "It's going to be absolutely fantastic! I still can't decide between the mauve silk dress or the white satin one. I ordered a third dress, a splendid one, from the county of Tyrel. If it arrives in time, I shall wear that one. I simply can't wait! Instead of counting the days, I count the hours-even the minutes! I've given instructions about how the banquet hall should be decorated, and what food and music we should have. Oh! It's such fun to be organizing everything myself! And I've arranged for musicians to come from a nearby town."

She kept on chattering enthusiastically, but her father was no longer listening. She's too thoughtless, he admitted to himself reluctantly. She has never encountered difficulties; she knows nothing of danger. She won't be able to survive. He reproached himself immediately for not having more confidence in Jade and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

"It's going to be magnificent, superb, spectacular! I can hardly wait. I still haven't decided whether the ices should be served before the macaroons or afterward-perhaps after would be better, don't you think? By the way, I'm not sure if the Baroness of Carolynt will be coming. It seems she has a fever. She's the only guest who hasn't accepted yet. Anyway, I find her boring-"

"Jade ... Do you know what tear means?"

Startled into silence, Jade was annoyed. Why had her father interrupted her, especially to ask a question that was quite beside the point? Wasn't he looking forward to the party?

"Fear?" she replied crossly. "Fear of what? I've never been afraid. It's a hateful feeling. Only cowards and weaklings are frightened. Why do you ask me that, Papa?"

Just then, Jade realized how pale her father was. How could she have failed to notice how tired he looked, with those dark circles under his reddened eyes? And above all, that haggard expression ... Something had happened. Perhaps his business affairs had not been going well....

"If only cowards and weaklings feel tear, then I am cowardly and weak," said the duke. "In any case, it doesn't matter."

"But, Papa! You're respected and admired by everyone, and for good reason! You are the Duke of Divulyon!" Jade's face lit up again, her green eyes flashing. "I would believe you if you said you were worried about matters of state, but you, frightened? No! If this is a joke, it's not very funny."

The duke did not reply. Jade's spirits fell again. "And now, Papa," she said gravely, "tell me why you don't think my birthday is at all important. In a few days, I shall be fourteen years old!"

"You are quite mistaken, Jade. I am very concerned about your birthday. But ..." The duke bit his tongue. He had already said too much. She was not to know anything before it was time. Afraid that he might betray secrets he was not free to explain, he turned on his heel and left, going upstairs to his private suite, where he began to pace back and forth. Every second was bringing him closer to the moment when he would have to reveal everything.

Puzzled, Jade wondered briefly about her father's exceedingly strange behavior, then shrugged her shoulders and decided not to fret about it. Her thoughts returned to the festivities planned for her birthday, and a smile returned to her lips.

Chapter Two

INSTEAD OF KEEPING AN EYE ON THE SHEEP IN her care, Amber was daydreaming, as usual. Sitting on the grass, she imagined herself living near the sun, enjoying its warmth, chatting to the clouds and birds. The wind carried her along on marvelous voyages; at night, she was dazzled by the brilliance of stars she could reach out and touch, and-

"Briette! Briette!"

She returned to earth with a bump. She had forgotten that she was supposed to be looking after one of her little brothers as well as the flock of sheep. The child was sprawled under a tree, calling out to her at the top of his lungs.

"Briette! Come here! I'm bored.... Briette!"

Everyone had always called her Briette, even though her real name was Amber, which was probably too pretentious for a country girl and might have better suited a noble lady, someone from another world. She couldn't imagine why her parents had chosen that name for her, although she'd often wondered about it; but she loved the name for its originality, its air of mystery. It seemed to conceal a secret.

"Briette! Briette! Pretty-please, come here!"

Amber rose and went to rejoin her brother. She sat down beside him in the shade of the tree.

"Whatever is the matter?" she asked soothingly.

"I'm bored, that's what's the matter! I want you to tell me a story."

Smiling, Amber stroked his cheek affectionately.

"Later, perhaps, but not right now."

"Why not?"

"I'd like to be alone. I want to stay perfectly quiet and try to listen to the silence."

"I want a story! You're just saying silly stuff!" The boy clung to her arm. "Please, Briette," he begged.

Tenderly ruffling his hair, she freed herself from his embrace, then kissed him on the cheek.

"Later, I promise," she said. "You stay here for the moment. I'm going back into the sunshine-I don't like to be in the shade."

"But, Briette, it's so hot! How can you stand being out in the sun?"

"I just like it, that's all."

Amber returned to the middle of the meadow and sank down into the grass. Nobody wanted to go out in that stifling heat. The cloudless sky was almost too blue, too pure. The sun bathed Amber's face in light. Her hair was like red gold and gleamed like the sun, framing her lovely face with its tan complexion. Flecks of green flashed in her hazel eyes, giving them a natural sweetness and serenity. She loved to feel the sunshine caress her skin; she enjoyed the heat that everyone else found so unbearable. People in the village hoped the dog days of summer would end soon, without bringing on a drought, but Amber wished the hot weather could go on forever.

A silhouette appeared on the path and caught Amber's eye: a boy was running toward her. He crossed the pasture and staggered to a stop near her, out of breath. She knew him well-he was her childhood friend-and she smiled at him, peaceful and untroubled.

The boy could not return her smile, and looked sadly at her. Reluctantly, he gasped out his message.

"Briette, hurry-I'll stay with your brother and mind the sheep, but hurry, run! Your mother ... She's not doing well."

Amber thought her heart would stop. Everything collapsed around her. Mist floated before her eyes. Gripped by fear, she felt cold in the scorching sun. She could not move.

"Briette! Run! Go! You haven't much time-run, Briette!"

His voice reached Amber as if from far away. Her mind reeled as the whole world seemed to quake. With a desperate effort, she pulled herself together. She had to get there before it was too late. She scrambled to her feet and set out at a run. Fast. Fast. Tears blurred her vision, streaming down her face, but she never felt them. Only one thing still mattered-to prevent the unpreventable: her mother's death. That must not happen!

Her mother was very ill and had been suffering greatly for months now. No medicine could save her. But she mustn't die! Amber ran her frantic race against time and death. She could already see the village, and she ran and ran, unaware of how tired she was. She reached the village square at last, and then her house, where she burst into the single room, so dark and silent, and rushed to her mother's bedside. Kneeling, Amber took her mother's hand, squeezing it with all her might, cradling it, feeling its warmth. Her mother lay moaning on the bed, a mere straw pallet. She was already deathly pale, and her face expressed unspeakable suffering. Her mind seemed to be wandering.

"You're here, Amber, you're here," she murmured weakly in a quavering voice. "I have only a few days left to live," she went on after a moment, "and I will have fulfilled my mission."

"Mama, don't talk anymore. It wears you out."

"No. Only a few days. But I won't make it. I'm too sick."

Amber struggled to hold back her tears. As always, she had to be strong. Gripping her mother's hand even more tightly, she felt as though she were drowning in despair.

"Mama, Mama," she stammered helplessly, "everything will be all right."

She tried to believe her own words, wanted to convince herself they were true. More than anything, she would have liked all this to be only a nightmare and hoped she would awaken as usual, snuggled up with her sisters and brothers. But no, the nightmare went on and on, a horrible truth Amber did not want to face. She was used to conjuring up a dreamworld whenever the one in which she lived became too cruel. She would hide there, refusing to suffer. But her imagination was fragile, giving way easily to reality. Then the pain became even more intense, as if to take revenge on the girl who had tried to deny it.

"Amber ... I must stay alive. A little while longer. A few days, only a few days. Soon I'll be at rest."

Amber trembled at the sound of her mother's voice and realized that both their faces were wet with tears. Her mother groaned, almost resigned to her fate, but Amber was not yet ready to give up. She would fight on until the end, even when all hope was gone and there was no future left. True to her nature, she was still looking for a gleam of light in the darkness.

"Amber. Amber. My mission, Amber ..."

"Hush, Mama. Hush. Don't talk anymore. It's tiring for you, in your condition. But don't worry, you'll pull through. It's nothing more serious than a cold. You'll be up and about tomorrow. You'll see, it's a sunny day. The cherries are ripe. The grass is greener than ever. There isn't a single cloud. The sky is so blue! It's worth going outside for. Believe me, tomorrow you'll be better."

Amber's voice broke, and she could barely choke back a sob.

"Amber, I only want to live a few more days. After that, it doesn't matter to me, but I have my mission, and it's still too soon. If I die, who will do what must be done? Amber, it's my duty to stay alive for a few more days. But I won't be able to-I haven't got the strength."

"Mama, calm down. It's important to rest."

"Amber, when my last day arrives, and it's so close now ... promise you'll believe me. Even if my words are those of a weak, sick woman ... promise me."

"I'll promise you anything you want, Mama, but now, stop talking, it's wearing you out."

Thinking her mother was delirious with fever, Amber did not take seriously anything she said.

Chapter Three

"IF I WERE HER GUARDIAN, I'D BE WORRIED about her. She's so secretive, so fond of solitude...."

"You're right. She isn't normal! She hasn't got a single friend, and no one can figure out what goes on inside her head."

"She never smiles, it's unbelievable! And her downcast eyes ... She has a way of being so cold and stubborn-it's disturbing."

"Yes, there's something very unusual and puzzling about her. It makes you uneasy."

The two gossips stopped chatting at the approach of one of the oldest women in the village. No one knew her age, not even she herself: she no longer had the strength or the desire to count the years. Nobody paid attention to what she said anymore; people often thought she talked nonsense, but in spite of appearances, she was still lucid. Her back was bent, her face marked with a wrinkle for every path she had ever taken in life, and each of her slow steps seemed to cost her considerable effort.

After a moment, she reached the two busybodies. She could not possibly have overheard them, because they had stopped talking as she drew near. They greeted her with hypocritical smiles. The old woman stared at them contemptuously. "Of course Opal isn't normal," she said firmly. "Yes, she is different. And she will accomplish things you would never even dare imagine."

With that, she hobbled slowly away. Speechless, the two village women noticed for the first time how dignified and strong-willed Opal's great-great-aunt was.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from THE Prophecy OF THE Stones by FLAVIA BUJOR Copyright © 2002 by Flavia Bujor. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---