Page 2 of The Dragon King's Awakening

The glass in my hands shatters, fragments raining onto the concrete floor like ice chips.The failure snaps me back to reality, embarrassment flooding my cheeks as everyone turns their attention to me.

“Rachel!Are you okay?”Frida, my assistant for the day, asks, breaking through the stunned silence.

I nod quickly, waving off her concern, even though I feel anything but okay.Things break in this studio; it goes with the territory.But it always feels like a failing.

"Yeah, just lost focus for a second."

I stare at the jagged remains at the end of the pipe and the shards littering the floor, not sure whether to start over or find something else to break on purpose.The dragons’ roars still echo in my ears, mingling with my own frustrated thoughts.

"Time for a break, Rachel?"Stuart chimes in.He eases the blowpipe from my hands, his touch on my shoulder meant to comfort."Better to come back tomorrow with a fresh perspective."

I let out a sigh, feeling a bit defeated."Yeah.I need to step away for a bit.Maybe a hike will clear my head."

"The blackberries on the western bluffs should be ripe about now.But be careful if you go up there.Finn, our visitor just now, is hunting a rogue feral dragon.Looks like he found him.They're probably long gone, but be vigilant, okay?Maybe take a friend."

I mull over his suggestion as I reach for my water bottle, then empty it in three long swallows.Feral dragons versus some perspective gained by a walk.I could see what Sean's up to and drag him along.He's usually game to wander the island.

"Blackberries sound pretty good.I like the way you think, Stu."I rise and tug my bandana off my forehead so it hangs around my neck, then gather my backpack and head toward the door.

"See you tomorrow, Rache," Frida calls out, taking over the bench under Stuart's guidance.

I step out into the sun, letting its rays kiss my face, the crisp Pacific Northwest air filling my lungs.The smell of bread baking in the kitchens of the main lodge hints at a promising dinner, but that isn't for a few hours yet.A few harried-looking students linger in the quad as I pass through, murmuring about the dragons who interrupted a peaceful afternoon.But no one seems to have been harmed, just frightened, and things get back to normal quickly.

There's no denying the idyllic peace that permeates the island, and it's a beautiful late summer day—the perfect time for a hike.

I head up the hill toward the movement studio, planning to rope Sean into joining me for blackberry picking.The studio, which I don't frequent much aside from the morning tai-chi classes, overlooks the rest of the school and the Puget Sound, the mainland of Seattle to the east.Today, strains of slow, seductive music filter out through its open windows.

I peek in and see a dance unfolding.Sean's in there, his leggings and flowing shirt outlining his tall, lean form as he sways close to a long-haired woman, while a man with a guitar sets the rhythm.Sean's aura seems to dance too, taking on a warmer sheen as he glides with the nymphaea tai-chi instructor.

I've seen Sean's aura enough that it's no surprise to find him with creatures of wind and water.There's this tune he always taps out when he's restless, and it's the same unique rhythm of the song playing now.I've heard that turul have a fragment of a song in their souls, which is never complete until they find their true mates.Looks like Sean's found his.

I step back, leaving them to their dance, a tinge of loneliness hitting me as I face my solitary hike.I try to shake it off, treating it as an opportunity for some quiet self-reflection.A bit of apprehension builds too.Are those two dragons still about?The possibility should frighten me more than it does, but it only urges me on, and I walk faster as if to outpace the agitation of my missed opportunity with the Red, if that's even what it was.

The day is beautiful, with late summer showcasing the island's lushness.It's the perfect setting for my climb to the western overlook.

Several yards up the winding path, I stumble upon a blackberry bush laden with ripe fruit."Jackpot," I whisper, tasting a few before moving on.

The path meanders upward through towering cedars, and I take my time, letting the rhythmic crunch of my boots on gravel soothe my earlier frustration.The sun tracks steadily overhead while I climb, warm enough to make me grateful for the intermittent shade.When I reach somewhat level ground again, I'm rewarded with what has to be one of the most beautiful vistas on the island.

I have a 360-degree view up on this peak, overlooking the shoreline with the water in one direction and the island's smaller hills and valleys in the other.I'm sure I can see all the way to Canada from up here.

And to top it off, there are even more blackberries growing in thick brambles all the way down the steeper west-facing side of the mountain.I gather the ones I can reach, then find a warm, smooth rock to sit and bask in the beauty this place offers.

Closing my eyes, I tilt my face up to the warm afternoon sunlight.The gentle breeze carries the briny scent of the sea and the sweet aroma of the blackberry bushes surrounding my perch.I breathe deep, savoring this moment of solitude.

A screech from above makes my eyes fly open.What appears to be two large birds wheel in the sky, talons extended as they grapple.I squint against the sun's glare to make out their shapes—eagles, perhaps, by the look of their massive wingspans.I'm transfixed as they tumbled through the air in a tangle of talons and flapping wings.

So magnificent, and so clearly dead-set on murdering each other.But when I shade my eyes, I realize they aren't birds at all.

Chapter2

Finn

The gold dragon bursts through the clouds ahead of me, sunlight glinting off scales that shimmer like molten metal.Two weeks of chasing this ancient pain in my ass halfway across the world, and somehow we've both crossed a barrier that should have repelled us.Not that I'm complaining; it beats tracking him across another frozen wasteland.

His energy signature blazes against my senses, raw and unstable—pure animal instinct after centuries trapped in this form.I need to end this before he decides to introduce himself to the artists below.That would be...messy.

I bank hard, following his trajectory, but my thoughts keep sliding back to that glass-working studio.Toher.The way the fire responded to her touch, how her aura pulsed with untapped potential.The flash of recognition in her eyes before?—

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