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D. J. MacHale

The Lost City of Faar

FIRST EARTH

Hi, guys. I gotta apologize for taking so long to write. So much has happened since I left you two, Mark and Courtney. I’m not really sure where to begin. First off, one mystery is solved. Remember the giant shark that nearly ate me down in that mine shaft on Denduron? Well, now I know where it came from. The territory I’m on is called Cloral and it’s entirely underwater. No kidding. Underwater. The quigs on Cloral are giant, flesh-eating sharks. Nice, huh?

Now let me tell you about some of the new trouble I’ve been getting into.

I was almost eaten, again; I came dangerously close to drowning; my arms were nearly yanked out of their sockets; and I think I cracked a couple of ribs — all in the first hour after I got here. Sounds like a fun place, no?

I’m writing this journal now because things have finally calmed down and I need the rest. I think it’s best to start my story at the point when I last saw you two. Man, that already seems like years ago. Time sure flies when you’re out of your mind.

I still have tons of questions about what’s happened to my life, but two jump to the top of the list. Why is it that I, Bobby Pendragon, have been chosen to become a Traveler? I don’t think that’s a lot to ask since I’ve had to risk my butt about a thousand times over while performing my Traveler duties.

The second is that I want to know what happened to my family. I keep asking Uncle Press these questions, but getting info out of him is like squeezing blood from a turnip. (Not that I’ve ever tried squeezing a turnip, but it seems like a tough thing to do. ) He keeps saying, “It will all come clear with time. ” Great. Meanwhile, we keep jumping from one disaster to the next, and the best I can hope for is that I’ll stay alive long enough to figure out why the heck I’m in the middle of all this when all I really want to do is go home and hide under my bed with the dog. C’mon! I’m only fourteen! Is that too much to ask?

I guess it is, seeing as my home isn’t there anymore. The last time I saw you two, you were standing in front of the empty lot where my house used to be. It’s hard to describe the emotions that were banging around inside me back then. I was nervous about going on another adventure with Uncle Press and bummed to be leaving you two guys again. But the worst part was the fear of the unknown.

Uncle Press promised me I would see my family again. Mom, Dad, Shannon, and even my golden retriever, Marley. But he stopped short of telling me where they had gone. He told me that they had raised me and prepared me for the moment when I would leave home to become a Traveler, but he didn’t tell me why. Was it planned from the moment I was born? Was my family part of some secret plot? He also told me that he wasn’t my real uncle. Meaning, a blood relative. But he hadn’t yet answered the single most important question: Why? Why are there Travelers who blast through time and space, helping the territories through dangerous times?