Beneath the Dragon Skies, Chapter V

Read [Prologue], [Chapter I], [Chapter II], [Chapter III] and [Chapter IV].

Chapter V

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Demarion. As I told Abigail, I will pay a visit to my mother, inform her of our progress, and return in two days.”

Demarion bent his head in acknowledgement. “Give my greetings to Meike.”

Kaede bowed, and then tossed a small smile at Alethea, who stood behind her father. Her lips curved upward reluctantly and she allowed a moment of secret understanding to pass between them before he met the Dragon chief’s gaze again.

“I look forward to rejoining you here. Spending time with your daughter is a pleasure.”

Alethea flushed and Demarion raised his brow, a glimmer of surprised delight. Kaede’s mouth twitched in amusement.

Did he think he only had one charming daughter?

“We look forward to your return,” Demarion replied. A diplomat to the end. “Ride safely.”

The sun was high when Kaede saddled his steed, Eagle, and galloped out of the Dragon village. It was about half a day’s ride to Sparrow clan, so he calculated arriving by dusk. As the passing landscape hurtled by, gray cobblestones turned into giant boulders and unpaved paths. The once green shrubbery that decorated the Adamaris was now yellow and bare. His fingers tightened around Eagle’s mane.

Guilt rolled over him.

If Father was still alive, he would have honored any treaty he made, even one with the Dragon clan. He was an upright, blunt man with an inextinguishable spark of humor.

Mother always said integrity would lead to his downfall, but he died of poor health before he could fulfill her prophecy.

Kaede felt the wind rush against him and sting his eyes. He wished the gust would sweep his troubles away with it, but only felt the growing knot in his stomach as the Sparrow village drew nearer.

When he first met Abigail on the south side of the Adamaris and learned her identity, Meike was pleased. She encouraged him to woo the Dragon chief’s daughter and win her hand in marriage—and eventually, leverage the union to usurp control of her clan. While Abigail hid their courtship from her family, Kaede told his Mother everything.

Abigail was spirited and kind, and though he felt pangs of remorse for his deceitfulness, he thought of the far-reaching significance. If he could assume leadership of both clans, the Dragons and Sparrows could establish peace. Did the means to achieve that truly matter? He won over Abigail with his easy charisma, something he inherited from his father.

Certainly, Kaede thought bitterly, he had inherited his mother’s ambition too.

It was all going according to their plan. Even when the famine came and Demarion agreed to consider a contract through marriage, Mother thought fate had handed certain victory to them.

But then she threw everything into a spiral.

She had the same green eyes and chestnut hair as her sister, but the resemblance ended there. After their first meeting, Kaede thought she would be trampled underfoot by the political pressures and her family’s instability, like a timid mouse first let out of its cage. But there was a layer of steel beneath her meekness.

I think even she did not know that.

A cool breeze circulated and the sun dipped below the horizon. He put aside his thoughts as the Sparrow dwelling came into view. They did not have the wood and brick abodes that made up the Dragon village but large huts instead, scattered on a slightly inclined slope. Their clan was a nomadic one for years before they settled on the west face of the Adamaris.

One of the men outside caught sight of him and yelled a greeting. Some of the Sparrows hurried over to assist him.

As he dismounted, they led Eagle away to graze with the other horses. Kaede made his way to Meike’s hut alone, feeling a heavy weight rest on him.

“Son!” She stood up and clasped his strong arms.

“Mother.” He embraced her.

She pulled away to study his face and he felt her piercing gaze burn against his. Suddenly, he was like a young boy again, his culpable thoughts exposed before her.

If his expression betrayed anything, Meike made no comment. “Sit and eat. The men brought in good game today.”

Mother set a steaming bowl in front of him, filled to the brim with wild rice, vegetables and spiced chicken. Kaede inhaled the heady scent of mountainside herbs.

“Hardly seems like a famine here,” he quipped.

“Ah, we manage. Sparrows are talented hunters.” Meike’s voice swelled with pride. “Besides, you and the Dragon chief’s daughter will save us, won’t you?” A scornful smile turned the corner of her mouth.

“Should we make a mockery of a famine?” He tried to keep his tone light.

“Nay, just a mockery of their charade.”

Startled realization fell over him. “You don’t believe the famine will end.”

“Sa! No,” she muttered.

“But Demarion’s story—”

“—Was nonsense.” She threw a critical look at him. “We have not encountered a Phoenix on the Adamaris in years. Where did he meet this woman? And what signs did he receive to indicate the start of the famine?”

The food turned tasteless in his mouth. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, trying not to think of the striking, Dragon twins.

She appeared deep in thought. “We unbalanced him with the marriage proposal, so he likely has no trickery there. But I can’t discern his motive for suddenly desiring peace between the clans.”

“Perhaps it is simply as he said. Demarion strikes me as a straightforward man.”

Meike stared at him. “Do not tell me you have come to trust them.” Kaede looked down at his bowl, but she pressed on, a sudden earnestness in her tone. “Son, Demarion knows how to charm. Fair words can disguise a foul heart.”

The irony of her speech stabbed him but he held his tongue.

“The Dragon clan has been an oppressive heel since we settled on the Adamaris, long before your birth.” She reached across the table and gripped his wrist tightly. “Kaede, do you hear me?”

He thought of the stories Alethea told him on their daily escapades. She was taught that the Dragons were the first to make the Adamaris their home. When the Sparrows and Phoenixes came, they provoked them and seized land wherever they could, often by violent means. For innumerable years, unrest and conflict drew sharp, bloody lines in their clan history.

“Are we better, though?” He met her gaze. “They have wronged us, yes, but we have wronged them too.”

She fell back against her seat, fury and pain on her face. With her gray hair twisted artfully behind her, Kaede became sorely aware of how tired and old she looked. She wore shadows under her eyes and her forehead creased with lines.

“I did not send you there to bring home their lies.”

Her words were quiet but cutting. Kaede felt them sink into him like a slow blade.

“I want peace, Mother,” he said urgently. Again, like a young boy, he ached for her approval. “I simply want to leave the past behind us.”

Meike appeared unmoved. “Is this love?” she scorned.

Unexpected anger stirred within him. “Do you spurn love as an absurdity too?”

“You are like your father.”

Disappointment reverberated in her voice, but Kaede wondered if he imagined the trace of wistful nostalgia mixed in.

“I am with you, Mother,” he said, reaching out for her hand. Encouraged that she did not pull away, he continued, “Trust me to do what is right for our people.”

“You no longer want to take control of the Dragon clan,” she sighed.

“I want peace,” Kaede repeated.

She raised her brow at him. “And what of Abigail? Have you confessed how you have deceived her, played on her affections?”

Conflicting emotions swirled inside him. He thought of Abigail, hanging over the chasm of death. Though it was out of ignorance, he had given her the offending flowers. And she remained assured of his mutual affection for her before the curse fell. If Alethea’s plan worked, he would be forced to confront her with the truth.

Alethea. He felt a pang in his breast when he thought of her. Failing Abigail shamed him. But failing Alethea—the thought crippled him inside.

A part of him longed to share his quandary with his mother and seek her advice. But she would not share his concern for Alethea. If she learned the truth of the curse, Kaede shuddered to think what she might plot. Meike valued the prospering of the Sparrows far above the lives of the Dragons. One girl certainly could not win her sympathy and halt her determination. That knowledge burned a bitter hole inside him.

“So you have not.” A tone of knowing satisfaction ran through her voice.

“I will make it right.”

Kaede infused his words with confidence in spite of his misgivings. He would make it right. For his clan, for Abigail, and for Alethea. There was nothing else he could do.

Beneath the Dragon Skies, Chapter IV

Read [Prologue], [Chapter I], [Chapter II], and [Chapter III].

Chapter IV

The knife gleamed in his hand as it caught the sun. He flicked his wrist and the blade flew straight into a thin crack between the boulders.

“The trick is control.” Kaede strode to the weapon and dislodged it easily, handing it to her. “You don’t need your entire arm; in fact, that will throw off your accuracy.”

Alethea nodded, feeling her palm grow damp. She had only ever used a knife in the kitchen before.

She narrowed her eyes at the rock cleft. Doubt clouded her concentration. Kaede made it look effortless, but the target was impossibly small. She bounced the handle between her fingers.

“Faith is half the battle. You don’t believe you can do it, you will fail.”

“Alright,” she mumbled, clenching her teeth, embarrassed he could detect her uncertainty.

“That lion is coming right at us!” Kaede exclaimed suddenly, closing in next to her. She could hear the muffled mischief behind his voice. “Save me! You need to hit him right above the jaw—”

Alethea snapped her wrist and sent the knife sailing without thought.

The tip pierced the crevice, wobbling slightly.

“Excellent.” Kaede turned to grin at her.

She blew out air, not realizing she had been holding her breath. “I didn’t think I would make it.” Alethea crossed her arms. “Don’t do that again.”

“Wild beasts don’t wait for you to be ready,” he said unapologetically. “Let’s take a break.”

Alethea sank to the ground, stretching her arms. It was their third day training and she felt her entire body ache. They had climbed rocky ledges, jogged long distances to build endurance, and practiced basic weapon techniques. She had never pushed herself like this before, but she still felt woefully unprepared for scaling the Adamaris.

Kaede pitched himself down beside her. He was a good instructor, lively and capable, but never condescending. While he still exuded the commanding aura that struck Alethea upon their first encounter, he balanced it with a good-humored disposition, and it no longer made her feel pitiful in his presence.

She could see why Abigail admired him.

“First time doing this, eh?” He tossed her a sideways glance.

“First time doing a lot of things.”

Like keeping secrets from my family.

They knew she was spending time outside the village with Kaede, but that was common in a courtship. Father seemed proud she bore it all so well. Mother was concerned—he was the rival clan’s next chief—but with Abigail’s fate and the famine to contend with, she spent little time fussing over Alethea. Rafa appeared to be avoiding her, spending more time with other young men in the clan. Like Abi, he had another world that Alethea was unacquainted with, and he withdrew into it.

She made a mental note to apologize for snapping at him after their meeting with Sparrow clan.

But no one could know Kaede was aware of her true identity. He would be labeled a severe threat and a target for assassination, even if her father wanted to protect him. Kaede, raised amidst politics and power struggles, knew this—they were bound together by mutual secrets, all of which, if uncovered, could lead to devastation.

“You’re doing well, Alethea.” He smiled at her, before a shadow fell over him. “Stars, if I were locked up in one place my whole life…I would have suffocated long ago.” Some dark and distant thought seemed to pull his mind away.

“Abigail too.” She shrugged. “It was all I knew, so I found it tolerable. You find your own world when you can’t reach the outside one.”

He shook off whatever reverie seized him. “Poetic,” he said, his usual lightheartedness returning. “I guess you had a lot of time to think.”

“I guess so,” she replied lamely.

“You like to paint?” he asked. “I saw the dragon by the window.”

“Oh, right,” she murmured, feeling self-conscious. “I was trying to draw our clan’s constellation.”

“It’s good—really good.” He seemed genuinely impressed. “We have a constellation too. I can show you sometime.”

“I never knew that.” Alethea looked at him in surprise, forgetting her awkwardness.

Kaede laughed. “Well, I doubt they include that in the Dragon education.” A conspiratorial glint flashed in his eye. “You’d need to keep it a secret.”

“I have a whole list of those now, anyway.” The wry tone sounded oddly unlike her, but the words fell out before Alethea could think.

He offered her a roguish grin. “Welcome to the outside world.”

They passed the first two weeks in similar fashion. When dawn broke each day, Alethea and Kaede saddled their horses and rode out into the mountain. Though terribly sore by the end of their hikes and lessons, she felt a settled satisfaction with her achievements. She could maneuver over terrain that once made her weak at the knees, handle a small blade respectably, and mount and dismount Jade with increasing fluidity.

She began to feel the effects of the famine slowly dull the life of the village. Abigail still lay unconscious, and Father received no word from his scouts. People grumbled against the clan leaders.

Alethea’s resolve hardened as she considered the circumstances. The moments she wanted to collapse and go back to hiding in her cabin grew more rare. It was easy to forget the stakes when she and Kaede were alone in the wild, throwing knives and testing themselves against the Adamaris. This was no game.

Admittedly, she hated showing weakness in front of Kaede too. Even an offhand compliment warmed her, and that added fire to her fortitude.

“At the risk of sounding like a traitor, I would recruit you to the Sparrow ranks if I could.” A smirk played at the edge of Kaede’s mouth.

Alethea flushed, hoping the dusk would disguise it. Sticky with perspiration and out of breath, they were riding back towards the village.

“Why, do your men want painting lessons?” she countered.

He threw back his head and laughed, the throaty sound echoing off the cliffs. “Even your wit has improved.” He shook his head lightly. “I’ve rarely seen someone make such progress so quickly.”

“I have motivation,” she replied quietly.

Kaede glanced at her. “Your sister.”

“My sister, my family, my clan…” Alethea felt the weight on her heart grow with each word.

They fell silent. As the Dragon village came into view, the last rays of sunlight lanced the rooftops. A faint silvery glow colored the cobblestone paths. It was suppertime, so the streets were quiet but golden lights burned behind windows.

A silent but sharp pain cut through her.

These are my people. This is my home.

Something hot burned in her chest and she felt tears sting her eyes. Gripped by a sudden, fierce loyalty to her clan, Alethea felt grim determination settle inside her like a rock.

“You can do this.” Kaede’s voice, level and assured, reached her. He paused. “We can do it.”

She nodded absently. “Two more weeks.”

Two more weeks left in the courtship agreed upon between the Dragons and Sparrows. Two more weeks before the clans thought she—or rather, Abigail—would marry Kaede and the famine would end.

Two more weeks for her to find the Phoenix and rescue Abigail.

“We can make the ascent next week. That leaves us an additional week, to be safe,” Kaede said. He turned his gaze towards her. “We haven’t thought about what to do once we find her.”

Alethea bit her lip, feeing doubt crash against her again. Surviving the climb to the top of the Adamaris and then locating the Phoenix were daunting enough tasks. Could she truly be bargained with? Would she be able, or even willing, to free Abigail?

She suppressed her misgivings. “We convince her to undo the curse, you and Abigail can marry, and the famine will be over.” The confidence and cheer rang false in her ears.

Kaede raised a brow, but if he was skeptical, he did not voice it.

“And then what will you do?”

She did not reply immediately, staring at the village again as it drew nearer.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Beneath the Dragon Skies, Chapter III

Read [Prologue], [Chapter I] and [Chapter II].

Chapter III

The world tilted and Alethea grasped Jade’s mane for support, her fingers tightening around the rough horsehair. She swallowed hard and tried to keep her expression clear of emotion.

How could he know? Bewildered, she struggled to find any telltale signs of her deception in their brief encounter so far. Nothing came to mind and fear clawed at her heart.

She could not give up so easily. Father’s reputation would crumble to dust if she did not fend off the Sparrow chief’s son.

“Who do you think I am?” she retorted, pleased to find a blend of confidence and disbelief in her tone. She sounded almost like her sister.

Kaede cocked his head and studied her. “Clearly related, but beyond that, I haven’t the faintest idea.” The light, quipping note in his voice unbalanced her.

Alethea attempted to scoff. “You have never met me, and you’re so certain—”

His laugh interrupted her. To her surprise, it was not harsh or scornful. The grimness melted from his features and his hazel eyes crinkled with amusement.

“I’ve been courting Abigail for weeks.”

Her breath stole away. Abigail’s mysterious suitor! It was him? She stared, lost for words, while he raised his brow at her in curiosity. Her mind raced with the implications but she saw Rafa approaching quickly, undisguised suspicion plain in his face.

Kaede acted more quickly than her. “I expect an excellent story later. I do love a good mystery, or clan cover-up.” He grinned. “But you owe me the truth.” He began moving away from her, before pausing for a moment. “Oh, and your real name.” He winked, as if this was all some great jest.

She blushed. Was he flirting with her? She had no experience with men, but through the swirl of confusion, felt a sense of indignation on behalf of Abigail.

Rafa appeared next to her. “What did he want?” His gaze followed Kaede to his horse, where he mounted smoothly and saluted the departing Sparrows.

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

He looked skeptical. “Lethe,” he said, lowering his voice, “don’t let him intimidate you. He’s the one coming to our home as a guest.”

“I know.” She suddenly felt tired of being coddled. “I can take care of myself.”

Rafa looked taken aback. “As you wish.”

He offered a hand wordlessly, which she accepted, and he gave her a boost onto Jade. When she was properly saddled, he left to mount his steed without further dialogue. Guilt pricked Alethea, but it was overwhelmed by her contemplation of Kaede and what to do about him. A dalliance with someone from Sparrow was strictly forbidden—until today—and Alethea could not suppress her frustration with Abigail’s imprudence.

Now, circumstances flung Alethea together with her sister’s suitor, and he knew the truth of her identity.

She glanced at Rafa, longing for a confidant. But this was her burden to bear, and Rafa would only grow increasingly bitter towards Kaede. Whatever she thought of him, he now held their family’s reputation in his hands, and she would need to make an ally out of him.

Alethea hoped he was a trustworthy man.

On the ride home, Father asked her to take a guest room in their main abode and offer her cabin to Kaede. Her small, familiar world slipped even further away, but Alethea put on a brave face and agreed.

The Dragon clan’s village felt like an oasis in the wild, spiraling Adamaris. Their cobblestone paths and timber homes were nestled in a small valley nearly halfway up the mountain. It felt strange to Alethea, having the liberty to wander through the alleys and watch the bustle of life close up. The sound of people shouting trades in the marketplace, the smell of salted pork and smoke, the sight of women in colorful attire skittering about—it felt so different watching it all from her window.

She kept her distance from people in case someone who knew Abigail spotted her. Maintaining this façade long-term was infeasible, and Father reassured her they would do everything possible to break Abigail’s curse soon and reveal the whole truth to the clan. But Alethea still felt anxious. Who knew if the scouts would find any Phoenix left in the Adamaris, let alone one who could cure her sister?

Alethea, I promise, we will save Abigail, and you will be able to live freely among our people.

That future seemed distant, almost impossible.

Instead, she focused on the present. She had to handle Kaede and their courtship. Her sister was a master of plotting, but Alethea needed to hatch a plan for the first time without the help of Abigail or Rafa.

Kaede could be a terrible liability or an asset. When she arrived at her old cabin to meet him, she was determined to turn him into the latter.

He greeted her with a disarming smile. “My favorite imposter! Are we going to resolve some of my questions?”

“Yes.” Alethea stepped inside, the comfort of home sweeping her up and bolstering her confidence. Without preamble, she said, “Abigail is my twin sister. She’s fallen under a curse and I need your help to undo it.” The words sounded foolish now, spoken aloud to the adept Sparrow chief’s son. But she forced herself to hold his gaze.

He blinked, shock spreading over his features. “A curse?”

“A Phoenix woman who hated my father cursed his children before we were born. She said his daughter would prick herself on a Rosa Rubiginosa and fall into a deathly coma. This was the sign that marked the start of the famine.” The memory of Abigail’s lifeless form flashed in her mind.

Kaede paled as a light dawned in his eyes. “A Rosa Rubiginosa,” he repeated.

“They were in your flowers.” Alethea worked hard to steer her tone away from accusatory.

“That’s why I haven’t seen her in a week,” he murmured, sinking into a chair. “She never told me of a curse.”

“Well, would you have continued courting her if she did?”

He glanced up, surprised. “You have a rather low opinion of me already, don’t you?” His tone was dry.

Alethea ignored his question. “Do you care for Abigail?” she pressed, feeling like she walked a thin line between urgency and desperation.

Something in his eyes flinched. “Of course.”

“Are you going to help me, then?”

Kaede looked at her carefully. “How did you escape the curse? And why are you posing as Abigail?”

She flushed, but knew he would not be placated with anything less than the truth. “We never knew which of us the curse was meant for. Mother could not hide when she was pregnant, but the clan did not know she bore twins. I was hidden away so at least one of us could be better protected.” Alethea exhaled. “Father took other precautions too, for Abigail’s sake. He destroyed all the briar roses in the area.

“But can we really overturn the course of fate?” She met and held his gaze, pausing for a moment. “I am playing the part of Abigail because a week ago, only four people knew of my existence.”

He seemed absorbed by her story, though a troubled look flickered over him. “If your clan knew the truth of the curse, Demarion may lose his position,” he surmised.

Alethea hesitated. She was loath to admit their posture of weakness aloud, particularly to Kaede. Yet what use was there to deny it?


She tried not to think of Father’s disappointment if he could hear this conversation. Within a day, she had handed their secrets straight into the hands of a Sparrow.

He fell silent for a while, appearing to mull over the situation. Alethea felt like she was on needles waiting to see what he would say. Would he help her? Would he betray her? Their position gave the Sparrows a momentous advantage if they wanted to move against the Dragon clan.

But he loves Abigail, Alethea reminded herself. Surely, that would place him on her side.

“I’ll help you,” he said finally.

She felt a sudden weight lifted from her.

Kaede’s smile returned, charismatic and confident. “But you’ll need to tell me your name. I’ll simply call you dearly beloved in public.”

“Oh! I’m Alethea.” She blushed at his words.

“Then, Lady Alethea,” he said, with a theatrical flourish of his hands, “what do you propose we do?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Find the Phoenix who cursed Abigail.”

Beneath the Dragon Skies, Chapter II

Read [Prologue] and [Chapter I].

Chapter II

The curse should have been mine.

The next week passed by in a blur, and Alethea spent the time huddled in her room. She felt a hollow ache inside her. Rafa kept her company on most days, though they rarely spoke. He would bring news of the family and clan, which Alethea would take in with little reaction, before they lapsed into long silences.

Father and Mother told the other clan leaders that Abigail was ill and resting in their cabin retreat. They both bore it with remarkable grace, as far as Alethea could tell. She knew Father would need to handle clan politics and decide if he would continue to conceal the truth. A cursed Chieftain could not maintain his position. Furthermore, if the Phoenix’s prophecy proved true, a famine would soon set in, and he might need to contend with the Sparrow clan. All of this, in addition to accepting Abigail’s fate.

The curse should have been mine.

Her sister was beloved by the Dragons. Only four people even knew of Alethea’s existence, yet the curse passed over her and ensnared Abigail. What some might consider good fortune plagued her with guilt.

While she would never admit such cowardice aloud, she did not think the curse would be a terrible fate for her. While it was a tragedy to befall Abigail, who was full of life and vivacity, it was not such an awful alternative for Alethea. The outside world frightened her. There was almost an alluring quality to drifting in dreams for the rest of her life.

“Hey, Lethe.” Rafa knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

He never knocked, or asked before. She knew he was treading carefully around her.


She noted the dark shadows under his eyes and disheveled hair, but he still smiled bravely for her. Her heart throbbed with renewed vigor and she felt ashamed. Rafa cared for Abigail too, though he expressed no need for comfort.

“Anything new?” she asked, trying to infuse some warmth into her voice.

His expression turned bleak. “The crops are failing.”

“So it’s real.” She stared at the ground. “What’s Father doing?”

“He’s in endless council meetings, trying to convince them of the Phoenix’s prophecy. Or curse. He wants to meet with Sparrow, but there’s hard opposition from many of the clan leaders.”

“Why?” Alethea felt indignation stir inside her, and she clung to the sensation. It was the first feeling outside of dull aching she experienced since the curse took Abigail.

Rafa sighed. “There’s years of bad blood between the clans. Some have lost family in land skirmishes.”

Alethea thought of her father, valiant and noble in the face of trials. She felt a wrench in her chest. “I wish I could help,” she murmured. “Abi would know how to. If our places were exchanged—”

“Don’t say that,” Rafa interjected.

Her whole world was out there.” She gestured at the window, the words spilling out as she felt a sudden urge to make him understand. “It was bright, beautiful, romantic. She had everything. This is my world, Rafa. In here, with the four of you. It’s all I know.” She paused, and finally allowed herself to say the words. “The curse should have been mine. Look around you. It was already mine.”

Silence reigned as she and Rafa stared at each other, a current of shared pain passing between them.

“Lethe,” he said, quietly but firmly, “you can’t think that. Abi and your Father and Mother would never have wished it upon you.”

“You don’t understand.” She closed her eyes. “I would have taken it, if I could. Yes, because I love Abi, but also because I can bear it.” Unexpected anger coursed through her. “But now that witch cursed Abi and me in an even worse way, stealing her life and leaving me behind.”

“Then let us use it well, what she has left behind.”

Alethea looked behind Rafa to find Father standing there, a stern but kind look on his face. She felt a wave of embarrassment, wondering how much of her outburst he heard. At the same time, it was liberating to have said the words weighing on her heart for the past week—or longer.

“Father,” she greeted.

“Alethea, I have no right to burden you any further.” The shadow of grief spread over his face. “But I’m asking for your help.”

Abigail’s pearl pendant felt heavy around her neck. The cold, charcoaled-colored gem rested just above her heart, shifting as she bounced lightly on her steed.

Jade was Abigail’s horse as well. Rafa rode beside her at the start of their journey, using his hand to subtly guide her. To Alethea’s surprise and relief, horseback riding came naturally to her and she could handle herself after the first two hours.

“Demarion said you don’t have to do this,” Rafa whispered, when they drifted behind her Father and the half dozen leaders and guards accompanying them.

“I want to,” she said. “For Abi, and all the rest of us.”

Alethea tried to quell the fear battling for control of her, drinking in the new sensations instead: Jade’s formidable muscles moving beneath her, the relentless heat beating down on her skin, the smell of rock and shrubbery, and the craggy paths of the Adamaris circling the mountain.

So much could go wrong. Alethea was almost identical to her sister in appearance, but their personalities were worlds apart. Her father’s precarious position was a mere mistake away from ruin.

“I see them!” someone ahead of the riding party called.

They came to a slow halt and her Father waved for her to come to the front. She tried to present an aura of confidence as she rode up, privately grateful that none of the men had spoken to her or asked questions during their journey. They were the select few who knew her real identity after Father confided the truth to them. Loyal as hounds, he claimed, as he described these men. She heard the clicking of another pair of hooves, and knew Rafa brought up her rear.

“How are you doing?” Father asked.

“Fine,” Alethea replied. She sat up straighter and met his gaze. “I can do this.”

A genuine smile touched his lips. “I know. You are my Alethea Dragon-daughter.” His words warmed her. “Don’t worry. I will do all the talking. It’s simply tradition to bring the next-in-line for Chief.”

They began moving again. An elegant gray-haired woman led the other party and a young man with raven hair rode beside her. His high cheekbones and square jaw lent him a regal, commanding presence. Alethea felt small in comparison, a new wave of helplessness threatening to engulf her. She looked at her father and Rafa for strength, leaning on her father’s encouraging words.

“Demarion Dragon-Chief,” the woman said, dismounting from her steed in a fluid motion. The young man imitated her.

“Lady Meike of the Sparrows,” her father returned. He descended from his horse and bowed.

Rafa was already beside Alethea, helping her alight when Demarion glanced at his daughter. “This is my daughter, Abigail.”

“My son, Kaede.” Meike indicated the man on her right, who bent his head to acknowledge them.

“It has been a long time since our last meeting.”

“Yes,” Meike said, an odd smile gracing her features. “I remember you were not yet Chief then.”

“I can only aspire to emulate my father. Time has treated you well, Meike.”

She laughed. “Demarion, the Dragon with the honeyed words. Some things do not change. Now, tell me why you called for a meeting. Rumors reached me that it has to do with the sudden scarcity of food and water.”

His face became grave. “A Phoenix woman I once knew foresaw a famine come upon the Adamaris. Signs she gave me have just come to pass. It will mean suffering and loss for us both if this continues.” He paused. “She claimed there is a way to end it.”

Meike raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“If our clans make peace. We end the fighting. The Adamaris has room enough for all of us.”

She fixed a hard look on Demarion, but he did not waver. Alethea felt a thrill of pride at her father’s gallantry.

“You are ambitious, Demarion,” she said finally. “This is an age-old conflict.”

“I am not proposing this out of ambition, but what I hope is wisdom.”

Alethea’s gaze drifted to Kaede and she was startled to find him watching her. He had a disconcerting stare, too, with his piercing eyes and grim mouth.

“I am not opposed to peace,” Meike countered. “But we cannot simply say the words and expect all skirmishes to end. That is not the world we live in.”

Demarion spread his hands before him. “I’m listening,” he echoed.

A thoughtful look came over her, and her gaze skated between Demarion and Alethea.

“Only a powerful union between our clans can overcome the decades of bitterness.” She tarried for a moment. “A marriage.”

Alethea heard the Dragon men stir and murmur, but all the sights and sounds around her grew dim as Meike’s words reverberated inside her. A marriage. She wanted to close her eyes and wake from the sudden nightmare, but sheer, desperate resolve kept her from sinking to the ground. She could not let Father down.

Demarion spared a quick sideways look at her. “A marriage,” he repeated. “I am not opposed either, but I will not give my daughter to a loveless union so readily.”

“Fair enough.” A mysterious, knowing smile crossed Meike’s face. “I propose this then: Kaede will accompany you to your village, if you are willing. They may have a period of courtship, and if the terms are agreeable to both at the end, we can proceed.”

Her father fell silent before turning to Alethea. “Abigail? Only if you are willing.”

She found his expression open and honest. This was not his political mask. He truly would allow her to make the decision and not begrudge it either way. Simultaneously moved and overwhelmed, she drew in a deep breath and searched her thoughts. With Abigail’s curse and the famine roaring to mind, the answer seemed clear.

“I am willing.”

“Excellent.” Meike turned to her son. “Kaede can negotiate any specifics with you in my place.”

Without a formal farewell, the Dragons and Sparrows saddled their horses and prepared to leave. Alethea felt everything happen in such a swift turn of events that she could hardly believe the significance of what they established. Possible peace. An end to a long, bloody feud. A looming courtship and marriage for her.

Alethea saw Rafa make his way towards her, evident concern in his eyes, but Kaede appeared first at her side without warning. He towered over her by nearly a head and smelled of fresh grass and leather.

Without a greeting, he turned toward her and spoke in a low voice.

“I know you are not Abigail.”

Beneath the Dragon Skies, Chapter I

(Merry Christmas Eve! Enjoy.)

Read [Prologue].

Chapter I

Alethea traced the black specks carefully, her brush stroking then lifting off the wall with controlled force. She stepped back to examine her work. The outline of a wing unfurled on its white canvas, the tip grazing the edge of the window.

“Rafa,” she called.

A halo of black hair surfaced from behind a pile of cushions. Rafa ran a critical eye over her painting and a wry smile touched his face.

“It’s terrifying.”

“I finally made the curves right. It’s brighter tonight than I’ve ever seen.” She swept her hand towards the window.

Her gaze wandered outside to the night sky, traveling instantly to the most familiar constellation: the two large wings, the arched tail, and the trail of dense stars that father called the dragon’s breath of fire. If you use your imagination, he would say.

She loved the skies. Her family and clan had the stone mountains and green earth under their feet, but from her little lodge overlooking the village, she had all the heavens above.

“Is Abi visiting tonight?”

The hopeful note in Rafa’s voice was so faint she would have missed it if she knew him less. Alethea glanced at his expression, but his face was turned towards the ground.

“Yes.” She frowned, an anxious crease forming above her brow. “She’s late.”

Abigail collected enough admirers to stretch from the foot to the peak of the Adamaris Mountain. That, at least, was the common sentiment in the clan according to Rafa, Father and Mother. Abigail dismissed the notion entirely. Alethea could not help the occasional prick in her heart when the subject arose. Would she win as many suitors if their places had been reversed? Nevertheless, she felt ashamed of the slightest envy. Alethea loved her sister, and neither of them had chosen their lots in life.

She stole another glance at Rafa. But for him to develop any special interest in Abigail—

Surely, he knew an orphan could never inherit the Chieftain’s role.

“Your mother is worried. She said Abigail’s been wandering off to God-knows-where on the mountain these days.”

Alethea felt her chest clench. “Abi can take care of herself. She’s just adventurous.”

“Ah, right, the hot-blooded dragon spirit inside her.” He rose to his feet and made a flourish with his hands. “I think Demarion is secretly proud. Like father, like daughter. But Ziva…” he trailed off.

“She fears the curse is meant for Abi.” She kept her tone neutral.

Rafa stared at her, his indigo eyes crinkling. “Lethe, she fears it was meant for you both.

She heard the earnest empathy in his voice and flushed, looking away. Her family never showed greater favor to one daughter over the other. Abigail was their firstborn by mere moments, and tradition dictated that the eldest child of the Chief would inherit leadership of the clan. When Alethea arrived, a tiny bundle of flesh and bones, Father and Mother were delighted but afraid. Who would the Phoenix’s terrible curse fall upon?

Father could not conceal both children. The entire clan knew when Lady Ziva was with child. So he hid Alethea from the public, protecting at least one daughter. He built a cabin above the village for her, disguised as the family’s new private retreat. To the clan, Demarion Dragon-Chief and Lady Ziva bore a single daughter.

The oak double doors burst open, interrupting Alethea’s musing. Abigail barreled in, her dark hair flying wildly around her shoulders.

“Lethe, you will adore this tale,” she began without preamble, her voice echoing in the vaulted room. “Oh, Rafa, you will enjoy this too,” she added, spying him in the corner.

“Where have you been?” Alethea demanded.

“It’s not where I’ve been, but who I’ve been with.” Abigail winked, reaching into the fold of her mantle and producing a small bouquet of wildflowers.

“Is this another poor man’s heart you’re to break?”

Abigail waved off her sister’s sympathy for the unknown suitor. “This one is different. We met by accident, about a fortnight ago. I wanted to see the south side of the Adamaris, with the sea right below the cliffs. Some of the clan folk who ventured there said it’s the most beautiful at sunset.” She shrugged. “It was, albeit a terrifying climb.”

“Stars, Abi, Mother said not to go to the south face!” Alethea closed her eyes, and even the thought of the jagged heights sent a shiver through her.

“I know,” she grimaced. A shadow of guilt crossed her petite features but vanished swiftly. “Don’t tell her, please.” A mischievous gleam entered her eye. “But that’s where I met him. Just as the sun dipped out of sight, I saw his shadow on an impossible precipice.”

“Perfectly enchanting,” Alethea murmured in resigned agreement.

She felt a twinge in her chest. Alethea loved her stories, and though she feigned indignation at some of her tactics, she admired her sister’s daring spirit. Rafa said most the clan hailed her as a worthy heir to their father, regardless of whether she married.

Our fates fell in the right order. Abigail would not be able to stand a week confined inside the only walls Alethea knew her whole life.

And Alethea would not be able to brave the Adamaris or command the respect of the clan.

“We’ve been meeting since, every day if we can manage it,” Abigail continued. An unusually sheepish expression came over her. “I just didn’t want to tell all of you until I was more certain.”

Alethea felt a jolt. “Certain of what?”

“Well… he’s different,” she began, before breaking off.

Alethea followed her gaze to Rafa, who had stood silently since Abigail came in. His impish face appeared pale and vacant. She felt a brief pang of sympathy. She thought of Rafa as a brother—and Abi likely did as well. Still, they were not related by blood, and she could not fault him for developing feelings towards her sister. They were no longer children. It was Rafa, after all, who told Alethea of Abigail’s admirers and the high regard of the clan. She wondered for a moment how much his own appraisal colored those reports.

“Rafa, what is it?” Abigail stared at him, genuine concern in her eyes.

He did not respond, and Alethea scrambled for words to rescue him.

“He’s not feeling well,” she muttered.

“Sit down, then.” Abigail strode quickly towards him. “Stars, you look terrible—”

Drop those flowers!

His ordinarily tranquil voice boomed with power. Abigail froze in place, the bouquet still clutched between her fingers, and Alethea jumped, her eyes widening at him. Where did this fury come from? Abi mentioned a dozen suitors at least in the past! She wanted to shout her thoughts aloud, but knew she could not expose him like that.

“Rafa,” Alethea said slowly, “Please, calm down.”

He did not even glance at her. “Drop the flowers,” he repeated, more quietly but no less forcefully.

“What is the matter with you?” Abigail exclaimed, recovering enough to shoot an angry glare at him. “Are you jealous?”

Alethea bit her lower lip and looked worriedly at Rafa.

“There’s a briar rose in there, Abi,” he said, holding up his palm towards her. “Do not move. Just drop it.” He turned to Alethea now, whose face grew ashen. “You stay away too.”

“What?” Abigail stared, uncomprehending.

“It’s a Rosa Rubiginosa!” Alethea cut in. “The curse, Abi, drop it!”

But her sister appeared motionless now, her gaze entranced by the spray of flowers. “It can’t be,” she murmured slowly. She opened her hand to let the bouquet tumble out.

Alethea wanted to scream, but her throat constricted as a filmy pink flower caught on Abigail’s hand, a row of small thorns beneath its petals. Her sister drew in a painful breath and Rafa was beside her, his hand pressed against her back.


But her sister was unconscious already, a limp figure in Rafa’s arms. A small crimson stain appeared on the wooden floor beside the fallen wildflowers.

Beneath the Dragon Skies

Dear friends, readers and accidental visitors,

You know you’ve been a bad blogger when you can scroll down the first page and still see a post from last year. Oops. My excuse: grad school. My apology gift: a novella-length story. It’s a fairytale retelling (it should be obvious fairly quickly which one), and decidedly not Christmas-related. But I have the entire thing written and no plans for it other than having it take up hard drive space. There’s a Prologue + 10 installments, and I will not leave you hanging because again, its already completed.

I hope it adds some warmth and fun to your holiday season!


Beneath the Dragon Skies: Prologue

The yawning, rounded boulders rose above the cavern, sheltering its black entrance like stone wings. Demarion swung his left leg up the steep incline and thrust himself onto the last foothold. His breath came short and heavy. He leaned against a rock fissure and looked down at the impossible path snaking through the Adamaris Mountain.

The endless spiral of gray stones stared back at him, almost mocking with its winding and sudden cliffs. He shut his eyes against the vertigo and tried not to think of the return journey.

Turning to the cavern, Demarion caught a flicker of light. A fire burned at the end of the dark passageway. He stepped inside guardedly, his hand wandering to the hilt of his sword.

A familiar face withdrew from the shadows, her eyes vibrant behind the flames.

“Dear Demarion!” she exclaimed. Something false in her voice belied her smile. “So many seasons have passed without a visit from you. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me.”

He studied the woman before him and felt a quiet ache. Her familiar face recalled happier times, but he also discerned the acrimony that tinged the rim of her gaze.

“No, Sela,” he sighed, “I do not forget so swiftly. But your home is not easy to visit.”

Sela laughed and rose to her feet. He followed her as she drifted towards the mouth of the cave. The first hint of sunrise crept up the eastern skies in rich rose-gold shades.

“But the view is spectacular.”

“It comes with a cost,” he returned dryly. “You are steps away from a straight plunge into oblivion.”

She whirled to face him, her silver shawl billowing behind her. “There does not seem to be a place for me elsewhere in the Adamaris.” Her tone hardened. “I did not even merit an invitation to your latest celebration.”

An icy wind swept through him and a tingle of fear raced down his spine. He and Sela were friends once, in better and brighter days. Her seclusion was not entirely her choice; cruel circumstances drove her to seek refuge when the Phoenix clan fell into civil conflict, scattering most of their people across the mountain. Many died, for the Adamaris was an unforgiving place to those alone and without resources.

But her years in isolation made her volatile, and Demarion guessed the bitterness of her fate gnawed at her. He might have pitied her, but he knew she would despise it.

“I thought it unfair to ask a man to brave your heights for the sake of a festivity.”

“You could have come yourself.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Demarion watched her carefully. “But it seems you have heard the news already.”

“I have my ways of finding out.” She slipped her shawl down her left shoulder slightly, and a dark red phoenix tattoo peered out. Her mouth curved into a half-smile. “My heartiest compliments to you and the mother. How is dear Ziva?”

Demarion felt his ire rise. “Do not pretend to care for her,” he snapped.

“Oh, Demarion. You think so little of me now.”

Her disdainful tone drove out his lingering fear, replacing it with hot anger. He bit his lip and tried to contain his temper, but her serene and insincere expression looked foreign. Whether it was the ravages of time or the cruelty of circumstance, he could find no trace of the high-spirited girl from his youth.

“It is not what I think of you, but what you are,” he murmured. “I have a clan, and a wife with child, depending upon me. Yet I risked this terrible climb for the sake of our old friendship. Have you no kindness or warmth left?”

She took a threatening step towards him. “You speak of kindness?” she hissed. “You speak of prizing an old friendship? You have distanced yourself for your own political gain. The Phoenixes are hated by all the clans.”

“I offered you a place among my people,” he rumbled.

“Years ago. But now you are Chief of the Dragons. How could you be seen as a friend to me?”

Her mockery cut like a knife through his fury. Demarion felt a still, strange sadness grow inside him.

“You do not know me, Sela,” he said quietly, this time without resentment. “I must go.”

He strode to the edge of the cave, about to begin his rocky descent, when she called out after him.

“Since you did make this dreadful trek to see me, I should return a favor.” She paused. “For the sake of our old friendship.”

Demarion felt his gut coil painfully. “No.”

Sela appeared beside him, her dark eyes haunting. “I merely wish to warn you. A famine is fast approaching the Adamaris. The greenery will die, food will be scarce—you can imagine the rest.”

He looked hard at her. “Why should I believe you?”

“You know I have the gift of foresight. Now, would you like to know how to end the famine?”

Demarion made no reply.

“Make peace with the Sparrow clan. The land cries out from the battle and bloodshed, with Dragon fighting Sparrow for control of the Adamaris.” Sela met his gaze. “How could you not tire from this ceaseless strife, Demarion?”

He felt the wrath surge inside him again as realization set in. “Peace will end the famine? Do not take me for a fool, Sela. This is not foresight. This is a curse!”

“A curse? You flatter me, to think I have the power to curse an entire mountain.” Her voice rang insincere.

“I know you are no stranger to curses.”

“No, I am not,” she mused, a distant expression overtaking her.

Demarion gave her a dark glare as he turned to leave, but she reached out and grasped the collar of his cloak. Immediately, his hand seized his sword and partially unsheathed it, the sound of metal ringing clear into the morning air.

She glanced down at the weapon and shook her head. “You distrust me so.” He loosened his grip, narrowing his eyes at her. “I was not finished. Given this formal breaking of our friendship, I ought to leave you with a parting gift.” Her tone remained calm but sounded eerily hollow.

“Sela, do not do this,” he raised his voice.

Caught in a trance-like state, she ignored him. “I will give you a sign to mark the start of the famine. When it is about to commence, your child will prick herself on the thorns of a Rosa Rubiginosa—your favorite flower, I remember—and fall into a deathly state, drifting in dreams until her mortal flesh fails.”

“No! Sela, you cannot!” Demarion’s anger transformed into horror.

“Oh, but dear Demarion,” she said, “I already have.”

“Undo this black spell!”

“I’m afraid I’m unable to. Perhaps another Phoenix could help you, but it seems you’re hard-pressed to find them in the mountain these days.” Sela looked at him coldly, releasing her hold on his cloak. “Give my greetings to Ziva.”

She vanished into the shadow of her home and Demarion fell against the stony ground, white-faced and trembling.

The Misfit Pioneers

This piece first appeared in 1:1000, an online literary journal. Check out their excellent stories! 

Ming hauled the door open, her lips pressed together against the chill. Rubbing her hands, she dusted the white flakes off her coat and hurried inside.

She rarely came to this side of campus. Though it was a small university, the engineering students kept to their quarters and the art students to theirs. A quiet thrill shot through her at this minor act of defiance.

The art studio exhibited a curious architecture. Filmy drapes hung on black bars, almost like shower curtains. Bulging pipes peered from the ceiling. A string of lights crisscrossed overhead with no real symmetry. Concrete walls splattered with ash and paint. At least the low-rise tables and chairs appeared orderly and clean, gathered in blocks across the tiled, gray hardwood.

It was a very American studio, at least in Ming’s mind. Back home they would not tolerate such a design, even for a creative workshop. Ventilation pipes belonged behind walls and makeshift lights would be tossed in favor of unobtrusive ceiling fixtures.

Naked. That is how she would describe the room.

“Escaping the cold?”

She jumped at the voice. Turning, she found a lanky, raven-haired boy watching her with an amused expression. His hands were dark with charcoal dust.

“I wanted to wait for the snow to stop. I parked in the main lot.”

“You’ll be waiting awhile, then.”

Ming shrugged. She did not want to dwell on what prevented her from going home earlier, much less explain it to a stranger.

“Are you a student?” she asked instead.

He nodded. “Just transferred from art history to art. Drop a word from my major’s name and gain another year’s worth of work.” He grinned. “I’m Jonah.”

“I’m Ming, electrical engineering,” she said, knowing that was sufficient explanation for why they were not acquainted.

“Ming,” he repeated. “Cool name.” Jonah glanced at the dirty window, the edges frosted over with snow and ice. “It doesn’t look like the storm is letting up. I make a mean hot chocolate, if you want me to fix some up.”

She hesitated for a moment but agreed. The roads were dangerous, and the hot and humid weather of her hometown had not prepared her for the bitter winters here. Besides, Jesse would not call anymore and Ming did not want to be home alone with her thoughts.

Jonah had an easy, unaffected manner. He filled the silence with small talk about his life as he bustled around the kitchen area. Ming sat at a table nearby and listened. She learned that he switched majors late, so he spent frequent nights in the studio playing catch-up. Unlike most college students, he disliked coffee, but had an unhealthy addiction to hot chocolate.

“It’s my grandma’s recipe. No sugar,” he boasted, as he set two steaming mugs before her.

The warm, rich scent filled her nostrils. “Thank you,” she said.

He pulled out the chair opposite to her. “So, Ming. Does your name mean anything?”

“It’s the same word for ‘bright’ in Chinese. It’s quite common.” She paused. “What about Jonah?”

“The prophet, in the Bible.” He grinned at Ming’s blank look. “God sent him to preach to a wicked city, he disobeyed, and was swallowed by a fish for three days.”

She considered it for a moment. “It seems like bad luck,” she said finally.

Jonah laughed. “He made it out alive. It’s a great story, actually.”

Ming flushed and fell silent. Her family burned incense, prayed for health and prosperity, and tried to live good lives for karma’s sake. In her last two years in America, her circle of engineering friends rarely discussed religion, philosophy or literature. If Jesse worshiped anything, it was Bruce Willis movies, which he insisted were a sufficient lens into western culture and ideals.

“Do you plan to go back to China after school?”

“I wasn’t, but—” Ming stopped abruptly, a painful twinge in her chest. She met Jonah’s eyes, steady and kind. “My boyfriend is from here. He broke up with me today.” The words fell out in a rush.

Jonah’s eyes crinkled. “I’m sorry.” Then he added, “He’s a jerk.”

Surprised, Ming glanced at him. “You don’t know him.”

“Of course not. But he probably is.” He held up a hand to stop her interruption. “Here’s a rule for breakups. Get rid of that urge to defend him.” A crooked smile slid up his face. “I don’t know him. I know you. I’m on your side, alright?”

Ming suppressed the urge to tell him that his logic was convoluted and nonsensical. She had to admit it felt good to have someone on her side.

She and Jesse shared the same circle of friends. Or, more accurately, Jesse formed their circle of friends and drew her in when they began dating. Ming knew this was nonsensical too, that the loss of one relationship could make her feel so unanchored and lonely on a campus teeming with students.

“Thanks,” she said. “My friends were all Jesse’s friends, so…” she trailed off.

Jonah nodded in understanding. “Jesse is from the Bible too. Father of a king,” he murmured. “I’m guessing your ex isn’t that great.”

Ming couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think so. And how are you living up to your name?”

“I’m all for seeing the inside of a fish.” Jonah grinned. “I like a good adventure. I’m forming a campus club for explorers, actually. The Misfit Pioneers. Have you heard the rumors about this place?”

She had. The administration tried to check wild gossip, but students still whispered about secret passageways and treasure troves buried beneath the grounds. Ming could never decide if it was the typical American obsession with conspiracy, or if there was some truth wrapped in the stories.

Jonah was on the ground, wrestling with something in the tiles. “This is what happens when you spend too much time here,” he called up to her. She heard a crack and an entire tile came loose. A plume of dust rose as he heaved it aside.

Ming yelped and joined him, peering into the darkness.

“What’s—in there?” she asked.

“Not sure. I was going to check it out sometime, hopefully with a buddy.” He met her gaze. “So, interested in joining my club?”

“How many people are in it?” she asked, still distracted by the gaping hole in the floor.

“Well, now there are two of us.”


Photography by Anthony Delanoix. Story by me. Original publication here.

The Zephyr Christmas Files, Part VII

Read [Part I], [Part II], [Part III], [Part IV], [Part V], and [Part VI].

Part VII. A Farewell to Fear (Finale)

MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 12:09:23 AM
From Jansen to Darby 

How did it go?!

MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 12:12:10 AM
From Darby to Jansen 


MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 12:13:40 AM
From Jansen to Darby

My life is complete.

E-MAIL SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 3:25:12 AM
From Avery Chan to Darby Chan 

Oh Darby.

I would too. To answer your last question. I would be home in a heartbeat too if things were different.

For some reason our Internet is being rationed to the extreme, so I have only minutes to write, and no way to do justice to this topic.

You are brave, my sister. You are brave to look at these hard things in the face and ask hard questions that I don’t have good answers to. Let’s agree now that we will talk about all of this in person when I come home, even if it’s awkward and difficult. (Pinky promise?)

Would you consider going home for New Years? There’s still a bit of break left if you change your mind. No pressure, but maybe that would help—you, mom and dad. And me, to know you’re there.

Regardless, I love you. And my Internet might cut out any moment but can I just say WHAT ADRIAN HAS A GF? Okay not funny but I can’t wait to hear how Jansen and Mags react to


Re: Speeding Ticket #F9474

Dear Mr. Suzuki,

Thank you for your letter. We have read and considered your petition, but unfortunately, your request has been denied. The $300 fine will stand, and you must complete the required hours of driving school or receive a mark on your record.

We wish you a restful holiday and a happy new year.


Major update 1: I went to dinner with Loren. He was quite the gentleman and it was actually enjoyable and not too awkward until Adrian and Darby scared the lights out of us. We were indignant, but secretly, they made the evening more memorable. Loren looked like a total deer in the headlights.

 Major update 2: Darby is going home for New Years. She’s hitching a ride with Adrian, who incidentally, was already planning to go home for New Years.

 Major update 3: Apparently, Adrian has a girlfriend. Way to keep us in the dark, Darby. Though Jansen’s reaction was pretty great. 

Major update 4: Loren asked me to be his girlfriend.

I said yes.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 9:28:02 AM
From D-Chan to Juki, Mags

Guys. I can’t believe I’m leaving in an hour.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 9:30:21 AM
From Juki to D-Chan, Mags

We’ll miss you. But we are proud of you, Darby.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 9:35:29 AM
From D-Chan to Juki, Mags

I love you guys.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 9:37:10 AM
From Mags to D-Chan, Juki

We love you!

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 9:40:05 AM
From Juki to Mags, D-Chan

Kids, please don’t get too emotional on me. It makes me uncomfortable.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 9:42:12 AM
From D-Chan to Juki, Mags

Making you uncomfortable is one of life’s great pleasures. Keep me posted on EVERYTHING at Zephyr for the rest of break!

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 9:45:49 AM
From Juki to D-Chan, Mags

Yes ma’am. I’ll just be third-wheeling a lot.

E-MAIL SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 10:13:30 AM
From Darby Chan to Avery Chan 

Thanks sister.

Just writing to say: I’m going home.

Here’s to being brave and loving fiercely in 2016.

MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 10:03:09 AM
From Adrian to Darby

Ready to go?

MESSAGE SENT ON December 30, 2015 AT 10:05:18 AM
From Darby to Adrian

Let’s hit the road.


Thanks for reading, and a wonderful 2016 to you!

The Zephyr Christmas Files, Part VI

(Note: Happy New Year! I meant to finish this earlier, but playing catch up here. Likely 1 more installment after this one. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy!)

Read [Part I], [Part II], [Part III], [Part IV], and [Part V].

Part VI. Home Is Where the Heart Is


  1. Boy
  2. Girl
  3. A crooning, soulful voice *

* Why didn’t I major in music? Bad call, Jansen.


Well, I did it. I talked to Darby. I think it went well, minus the part where she broke down in tears. 

I’m not very good with people crying, especially someone who isn’t ordinarily emotional or weepy. Then you know they feel awkward and horrible to be seen by you, which only compounds your own discomfort. I admit I breathed a sigh of relief when we finished talking, but in retrospect, I’m glad I said something. And since I already put it out there, I just told her what I really thought. I told her she should go home.

I can’t imagine being in my 40s or 50s and spending Christmas and New Years alone, thinking this is what all my years so far have amounted to. I’m sure her parents know Darby and Avery don’t want to face their pending divorce, but for them to avoid home entirely over the break really pours salt onto the wound. 

Darby took it quite graciously. I don’t know if I would have in her place, which makes me feel like a hypocrite, but a very grateful one that I’m not facing the same situation. I just can’t imagine.

On a lighter note, Loren’s performance was fun. He’s actually very good, though he won’t hear me say that aloud. We’ve been messaging back and forth in haikus, and he left me this note afterwards. 

Dearest Margaret,
I hope you enjoyed the show.
Dinner tomorrow?

…I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. Is this a date? I’m not good at dates. To dine or not to dine? Why I am so scared of stupid little things like this? 

Courage, Mags.

Okay. I guess I’ll go to dinner.  

E-MAIL SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 10:52:02 AM
From Darby Chan to Avery Chan

Dear Avery,

Loren’s show was great! Have I mentioned yet that he totally has a thing for Margaret?

Speaking of her, we talked yesterday about mom and dad. It seemed like she’s wanted to bring it up for awhile but kept it bottled in because, I don’t know, she was afraid of my reaction. Can’t say I blame her.

I know this is the unspoken Taboo Subject We Glaringly Haven’t Discussed. Well, Mags made me sit through it, so I’ve got to dump some of the burden on you too. Sorry. I have to admit though, as I’m writing this, I’m almost glad you’re in Africa right now. It’s easier to communicate this through text than face to face—I think I’ll be more real and open (not my strong suits in real life).

I’m angry, Avery. I’m angry that after so many years and our entire lives together, they would want to break the family apart. I know it’s selfish of me to avoid home (and you? No accusations, I’ll let you speak for yourself) but aren’t they selfish to just give up? There’s so much jaded cynicism already in the world about relationships and marriages, but I just can’t bear that reality actually invading our family. It was always something Out There.

It makes me think, even someone as kind and good as Adrian (who, again, I don’t like; just an example) might become who-knows-what in twenty years. Maybe someone who ups and leaves his family? How can we trust any guy?

How can we trust ourselves?

Now I’m extra glad you’re in Africa. Believe me (I know you do), I would never have said all that to your face. Because I’m not brave. Because Mags was right when she confronted me. I am running away.

Skiing, winter trip, getaway with friends, last school break ever, etc. All of it is an excuse. Because if mom and dad were staying together, I swear I would be home in a heartbeat.

What about you?


GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 11:45:12 AM
From Juki to D-Chan, Mags

Are you guys writing New Year Resolutions?

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 11:48:29 AM
From Mags to Juki, D-Chan 

YOU write New Year Resolutions?

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 11:53:39 AM
From Juki to Mags, D-Chan

Last year of college. I’m going to be a new man. Don’t hate.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 11:55:08 AM
From D-Chan to Juki, Mags 

My prediction – Resolution 1: Find a girlfriend.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 11:59:19 AM
From Juki to D-Chan, Mags

Well, not all of us have a Dr. Stark magically drop into our winter breaks.

MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 12:23:55 PM
From Adrian to Darby 

I heard Loren and Margaret are having dinner…

MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 12:29:20 PM
From Darby to Adrian


MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 12:32:25 PM
From Adrian to Darby

I owe Loren an epic prank. Looking for a partner in crime.

MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 12:33:10 PM
From Darby to Adrian

That’s really Jansen’s area.

MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 12:33:55 PM
From Darby to Adrian

Buuut this is hard to turn down.
Okay count me in.

MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 12:40:19 PM
From Adrian to Darby

Excellent. I owe you one.

MESSAGE SENT ON December 29, 2015 AT 12:43:21 PM
From Darby to Adrian

So mercenary of you. I can only hear that in Han Solo’s voice.


  1. Graduate
  2. Find a job that’s not in fast food industry
  3. Find a girlfriend

The Zephyr Christmas Files, Part V

Read [Part I], [Part II], [Part III], and [Part IV].

Part V. Like Pixar and Sara Bareilles


How to be brave. It sounds like a self-help book, but it’s help that I need. How do you be brave with other people?

This life is so, so fragile. It’s almost ridiculous that most of us live our lives in a false bubble of security, thinking we have however many years ahead of us. “You’re young, and your whole future is ahead!” But who knows. Who knows if, at the next doctor’s appointment, they’ll say cancer, or the next car will plummet off a cliff, or the Earth will spin off its axis into frozen oblivion and no one will even know what happened.

I sound so morbid. It’s not death that frightens me, though. It’s never mustering up the courage to say what I ought to and seize the moments I do have that terrifies me. We spend most of our words on the mundane: weather, food, news, gossip.

Who cares? In ten years, who will remember or bother with that information? Heck, in ten minutes, even. I know a lot of people realize that and think that—so why can’t we break the barrier?

I guess, all that to say, we don’t have many more days left at Zephyr. And there are so many words left unsaid, and I don’t know where to find the courage to say them.

I think that’s why I write. Stories and fiction and everything. Aren’t these made up fairytales and re-imaginings of reality simply ways for us to say all the things we’re afraid to say aloud, bald-faced and bluntly?

I am afraid fiction is simply my cowardice masquerading as courage. 

Well, that will change. Stories may be for the cowards, but they are for the purpose of making us brave.

Before we leave, I will say the words that need to be said.


We have a special treat to close out 2015! Our resident musician, sing-songwriter Loren Eastwood will be performing in the main lobby tonight. Loren has served us well this holiday season with delicious hot drinks at the cabin, and we are thrilled to have him share his musical talents with us too.

Loren will be performing some of his original pieces, and everyone is invited. We hope to see you there.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:30:29 AM
From D-Chan to Juki, Mags


GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:32:15 AM
From Mags to D-Chan, Juki

YES! Celebration tonight?

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:33:48 AM
From D-Chan to Mags, Juki

Sure thing. I’m supposed to take it easy though.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:35:12 AM
From Juki to D-Chan, Mags

Is that what Dr. Stark said?

MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:39:43 AM
From Loren to Margaret

Hello Margaret,
Join me at my show tonight?
Your friends can come too.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:42:19 AM
From D-Chan to Juki, Mags

Adrian knows I got injured because I took your stupid dare. He’s rethinking his opinion of you.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:43:28 AM
From Juki to D-Chan, Mags

Oh I quake in my boots.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:45:38 AM
From D-Chan to Juki, Mags

He mentioned Loren’s performance tonight. Let’s go to that?

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:48:30 AM
From Juki to D-Chan, Mags

You two better not ditch me for your dates.

GROUP MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:49:13 AM
From Mags to Juki, D-Chan

Let’s do it. (And commence Operation: Ditch Jansen).

MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 11:52:19 AM
From Margaret to Loren

Thanks for the invite.
I hope your musical skills
beat your haiku ones.

MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 2:14:29 PM
From Margaret to Darby 

Let’s grab some coffee in half an hour?

MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 2:17:32 PM
From Darby to Margaret

 Sure. Everything ok?

MESSAGE SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 2:18:12 PM
From Margaret to Darby

Yeah, don’t worry!

E-MAIL SENT ON December 28, 2015 AT 5:39:23 PM
From Darby Chan to Avery Chan 

Dear Avery,

AH you’re alive!

I don’t have a ton of time to write so longer update to follow (we’re going to Loren’s musical performance tonight), but a quick recap:

I sprained my ankle skiing two days ago. We tried the black diamond slope and I was actually getting the hang of it until Jansen dared me to do this ridiculous jump. You know me. I did it. Or tried to – hence the ankle sprain.

Adrian was on shift at the medical center when we came in. Long story short, they did a quick check up, found it was just a sprain, and I’ve been discharged today. It’s a little sore, but nothing I can’t bear. Adrian reprimanded me for taking up a stupid dare. It was kind of condescending, but kind of sweet? I’m not sure.

To answer your challenge: I do have evidence there’s nothing between us.

Adrian has a girlfriend.

Surprise. I know, I haven’t told Jansen or Margaret, so neither of them know, and I think they’re convinced we’re getting married or something. He told me (not in a weird way, just mentioned offhand when we were catching up) the day after we ran into each other here. So trust me when I say that I’ve entertained no notions about us. It really, really is a thing of the past. As for the way he’s treated me—well, you know how he was in high school. Just genuinely kind. Is it sad that genuinely kind is so easily interpreted as something more these days?

I need to go… but I have more to say. Margaret and I had a talk this afternoon that I need to tell you about.

Oh, the suspense. I’ll write again late tonight or early tomorrow. Enjoy your bottled waters.


P.S. I was able to confirm for real that Adrian does not have terrible doctor handwriting.