The Kingdom of Oceana is a new Middle Grade / Young Adult fantasy adventure series by Mitchell Charles, recommended for 5th-8th grade students.
At its core, The Kingdom of Oceana is a story about a sibling rivalry.
Five centuries ago, on the island now called Hawaii, there was a kingdom filled with adventure, beauty, and magic. When 16-year-old Prince Ailani and his brother Nahoa trespass on a forbidden burial ground and uncover an ancient tiki mask, they unleash a thousand-year-old curse that threatens to destroy their tropical paradise.
As warring factions collide for control of Oceana, it sparks an age-old conflict between rival sorcerers that threatens to erupt–just like Mauna Kea, the towering volcano. With the help of his ancestral spirit animals, his shape shifting sidekick, and a beautiful princess, Prince Ailani must overcome his own insecurities, a lifetime of sibling rivalry, and a plague of cursed sea creatures brought forth by the tiki’s spell. Can peace be restored to the kingdom? Can Prince Ailani claim his rightful place as the future king of Oceana? Two brothers, but only one can rule.
The Kingdom of Oceana takes readers on a fun and exciting adventure that is filled with non-stop action, from big wave surfing, to fire walking and shark taming. It is also an educational read, as it brings to light many of today’s pressing environmental and social issues, such as ocean conservation.
“This book is a real page-turner, full of action and adventure, and I would highly recommend it to anyone. I hope that there will be more books like this from Mitchell Charles in the future.” – 5 Stars, Anne-Marie Reynolds for Readers’ Favorite
“Adventure, exotic places and animals, as well as a unique culture, will drag readers head first into this novel…The talent from this writer is amazing. I look forward to reading more by Mitchell Charles in the future.” – Danielle Urban, Urban Book Reviews
“Filled with names, vocabulary, animals, and customs that are related to the setting the book opened my eyes to the ancient world of the Pacific peoples. I can envision middle school students fascinated by the words of the text made curious to research to learn more about this unique time and place.” – Angela, The Teacher’s Desk 6
“As I read, I had several of my student’s already in mind who will eat this up. I feel good about having it on my shelves, as it is not too violent or ‘scary,’ yet it contains that fun zombie style-action that my students love.” – Jillian, Elements of Elementary
Excerpt from Chapter 1 – Waimoku Falls
We climbed the backside of the canyon, still winding through the singing forest. A sudden gust blew through the treetops, causing the tall hollow stalks to cry a warning and my heart to beat faster. What danger was Nahoa getting me into this time?
By midday we reached the tree line, and the terrain became near vertical, with slabs of volcanic rock stacked in a series of small ledges and caves.
I turned around, looking out over the green bamboo treetops. To my right, the towering snow-capped summit of Mauna Kea dominated the sky. It was the tallest and most sacred spot on the Great Island, and on rare occasions smoke and ash billowed from its peak, rising above the icy white snowdrifts. Fortunately, there had not been a major eruption or lava flow in many generations.
“I’ll race you to the top,” Nahoa challenged. “I’ll even give you a head start.”
We had always enjoyed a spirited rivalry, feeding off each other’s competitive nature. I surveyed the cliff, picking my route.
“You’re on,” I said as I hoisted myself up and grabbed onto a small lava finger hold. Just above me was a long fissure in the rock, sloping upward to my right and then back to the left. While this path would take me on a longer course, it was less demanding, and my best chance to beat Nahoa to the crest.
He saw my plan. “Good, little brother. That path is safer.”
I carefully moved forward, while Nahoa soon got stuck above me on the sheer vertical wall of lava, his legs dangling and his feet probing the cliffside.
“Fingers getting tired?” I asked him as I moved closer to the top. I was going to beat him, for once.
“I won’t be here long,” he said.
As I followed the crevice back to the left, Nahoa whipped his body to the right and leapt off the cliff, his foot landing on my shoulder. He pushed off my neck and hoisted himself onto the ledge above me, just below the crest.
“Thanks, omo,” he said with a wicked laugh.
As I pulled myself onto the ridgetop I saw Nahoa ahead, following a fast-moving river that disappeared in the distance.
“Move it!” he yelled above the sound of the rushing water.
I hurried to catch up and we crossed the river along a jagged path of partially submerged boulders smoothed over by the rapids.
Before us, the river gained strength where it merged with a smaller tributary and formed a swirling vortex that plummeted off the cliff as Waimoku Falls.
“That’s it,” said Nahoa, pointing at a small hill piled with rubble just in front of where the two rivers joined.
There we found the remains of a crescent-shaped fortress made from stacked lava rocks. The curved wall was crumbling, with crusty orange lichen growing in the crevices and bright green geckos sunning themselves on top. The ground was littered with shark teeth, razor sharp and bleached by the scorching tropical sun.
I was disappointed. I’d hoped to find a great temple with cryptic markings or intricate carvings. What lay before us was nothing more than a pile of weather-beaten rocks.
“Well, this is a waste of time,” said Nahoa. He picked up a stone and hurled it at the remains of the fortress. From beneath the broken wall, a gathering of centipedes scrambled to escape the sunlight.
An icy wind went through me. It wasn’t like a tropical breeze that cools your sweaty cheek. No, it pierced my flesh like I was no more solid than a palm frond. Disturbing the centipedes was a bad omen—they were minions of the shadows.
“Did you feel that?” I asked.
Nahoa stood frozen, the hair on his arms standing on end.
He swallowed. “Feel what?”
“I don’t think we should be here,” I said, motioning for us to leave. For once, I hoped he’d agree with me.
“Do you want me to hold your hand, little brother? We’ll just have a look around, that’s all.”
Nahoa walked over to where he’d thrown the rock and knelt to examine the rubble. He picked through and uncovered a wooden tiki head. The carving was badly weathered, its left ear missing. Its mouth snarled, and its eyes glared with menace.
I looked at my brother’s face. He was in a trance, his head tilted down and his eyes looking up. They were cold and lifeless.
“Nahoa,” I screamed. “Stop playing around. That’s not funny!”
But he just stood there. I yelled again, “Nahoa! We shouldn’t be here. Let’s go!”
He blinked, but otherwise remained perfectly still.
As I stepped toward him, Nahoa pulled his knife and backed me toward the rushing river.
“It’s you that doesn’t belong here, little brother,” he said in a hushed tone.
Then he charged at me like a wild boar, knocking me into the water. I stood up, knee- deep in the fast-moving river, and dug my feet into the rocky bottom, bracing myself so the current didn’t pull me downstream. Nahoa leapt again and landed on top of me, sending us both tumbling into the whitewater.
Since we were old enough to walk, Nahoa and I had been schooled by the masters in lua—wrestling, hand-to-hand combat, and the use of our tribe’s most savage battle weapons. From years as sparring partners, I knew all his offensive moves and counter attacks as though they were my own. But as we raced downstream, bouncing off the rocks and plummeting down the rapids, I felt as though I was fighting a stranger. And I was fighting for my life.
Up ahead, jagged rocks rose above the waterline. I flipped onto my back with my feet below me, struggling against Nahoa’s hands wrapped around my throat. I kicked free of him, but that only quickened my pace down the rapids. I slammed into a boulder, my feet bracing my impact. I was exhausted, but knew I had to get out of the water before I reached the falls. I managed to clamber partway up a slippery rock, then gathered the strength to hoist myself completely from the rushing current. Upstream, I saw Nahoa dangling from a tree branch, the rapids churning below him.
My footing slipped and in an instant I was back in the river. The turbulence engulfed me, pulling me into the foaming whitewater. Then I was weightless, freefalling.
About the Author
Mitchell Charles’ love of the ocean and its miraculous creatures began at the age of 12 when his father taught him to SCUBA dive. From his first adventure 50 feet (15 meters) beneath the Caribbean Sea he was hooked. He has been involved in the Oceanic Society, America’s first non-profit organization dedicated to ocean conservation, established in 1969.
Mitchell’s inspiration for The Kingdom of Oceana was born of exploring the spectacular coastline, lush valleys, and vibrant coral reefs of the Hawaiian Islands. On these excursions, he imagined what Hawaii was like hundreds of years ago. Before Captain Cook arrived from England. Before the golf courses and hotels. Before the ukulele and the Mai Tai became icons of Hawaiian culture. He dreamed of a time when the islands were an undiscovered magical paradise..
These days, Mitchell divides his time between Southern California and Hawaii. He has two teenage children and a dog named Magic. He is currently working on the second book in the Kingdom of Oceana series, The Legend of the Nine Sacred Pearls, which is expected to be released in Fall 2016.
For further information, to request a review copy, or to set up an interview or appearance by Mitchell Charles, please contact Kelsey McBride at Book Publicity Services at firstname.lastname@example.org or 805.807.9027.
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