Dragons Awakening
CHAPTER FIVE: The Prophecy

Zi shoved the collection of designer bags aside. That intricately carved wooden box was somewhere in her closet. Something Ezer said about prophecy tweaked her memory. The same week her mother died, she gave Zi the ancient box made from flowering pear trees. It’s brownish-purple grains had fascinated her. The carved zodiac symbols etched around the sides were nearly rubbed smooth from handling. Inside, a single parchment. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Zi booted several outfits aside and grunted moving a stack of old textbooks. Finally. The cool wood tingled against her fingers. Holding the box brought her mother’s presence into the room. If magic existed, this box contained it. She sat on the divan, cradling the box on her lap. She lifted the lid and eased the scroll from its nest, unrolling the brittle parchment on the leather cushion beside her.

The Mandarin characters etched on the browning surface with black ink. The message jumped off the page. When she’d first read it with her mother nearly a decade before, the message sounded cryptic. Visionary - The mighty one comes. Offer aid. Gifts demand recompense.

“Your uniqueness will matter someday, Zi.” Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears. “Use your visions to benefit others. With great talent comes greater responsibility.”

Cherry blossoms and jasmine filled the room. As if her mother stood besider her. Zi’s quivering stomach and chest rattled her. She squeezed her eyes tight. Hot liquid managed to dot her thick lashes anyway.

Five days after that conversation, her mother died. In the aftermath, Zi’s belief that her ability to see the future made her uniquely gifted to help people wilted and suffered a slow demise.

The words from the scroll weren’t the same as Ezer’s prophecy. When the seer divines your presence was how he had phrased it. Had The Visionary who preceded her seen so far into the future? Could the “mighty one” be the dragon? After seeing too much death and destruction, would she finally be able to prevent chaos? Premonitions of an unalterable future seemed useless.

Zi opened her eyes, studying the ancient writing. Her mother would want her to help the dragon. But how? She re-rolled the parchment and returned it to the antique box. Beneath her fingers, the satin wood warmed.

At the moment, she had the ravings of a telepathic horse and an archaic message. She petted the box before tucking it to the back of a shelf in the closet. Unless Ezer became a dragon because he spoke with her, she didn’t know how to help him get his true form back. After that, what aid could she offer him?

She shrugged the thoughts away. Get mentally prepared. A flood of people would be clamoring for her advice when she joined them at dinner. She glanced at her scuffed riding outfit.

Perhaps clean clothes were in order.

Zi suffered a long blink before focusing on the tablet. Someone coughed behind her. The guy on the end of the adjacent row made an inordinate amount of noise typing. Zi sighed and continued rereading her essay.

According to the digital clock at the top of her screen, twenty minutes remained before the test was due. This teacher frowned on students handing in essays early. Handing in? Did they actually hand something to the teacher in the past? These days, the student tablets linked to the teacher’s computer, and the tests were retrieved (or sent) automatically at the end of the ascribed testing window. Genius. The computer probably corrected the tests, too. Being a teacher had to be the simplest job around.

Zi sighed, jiggling her shoulders against the stiff chair. The third line of her essay on the reasons for the Eastern Island War blurred. Not a topic Zi cared to recall. Not that teachers considered the preferences of their students. She suppressed a snort and read the sentence. Again.

Red, molten rock bubbled in front of her, flowing away, a bloody river of fire. Sulfur suffocated her, and the ground shuddered beneath her feet. Beneath the lava, the upper third of a mountain blasted away, spewing rock, smoke, steam and ash a mile into the air. Oppressive heat scorched the skin on her face.

The plume of debris mushroomed in all directions. A black cloud of smoke hovered over the enlarged crater. Strange movement, enormous birds fluttering together, gigantic eagles attacking each other. A darker red emerged from beneath the smoke, detritus in the lava flow. A metal object of some sort. Shouldn’t it succumb to the extreme heat of the melted rock?

A monstrous head wreathed in spikes rose from the rushing orange river. Eyes popped open. Dragon eyes. The dragon yawned. Rows of blackened spikes - teeth - gaped at her. Acrid accelerant fumes mingled with the putrid taste of burnt flesh. A stream of white fire issued from the terrifying jaws, heading straight for her.

Zi gasped, eyes wide, fear coiled around her spine. She screamed, covering her head as a wave of scalding air slapped her face. She blasted backwards, ribbons of pain shooting through her shoulder blades. Her lungs failed, offering nothing more than wheezing breaths.

Her eyes flew open, her hand clutched around her throat. A sea of auditorium seats surrounded her. Faces of those seated near her glared. Someone coughed, the sound vibrating the hollow silence of the room. Two girls shook their heads and turned toward the front.

ZI’s heart pounded, still trying to escape her chest. She gulped air. Her head spun with its need for oxygen. So much for not dreaming about dragons.

Her tablet flashed red, giving the five minute warning. Like writing an essay even matters? She sent the essay away with a tap of her finger and heaped her belongings in her arms.

She needed answers. Now.

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