Page 33

We hit for the Dragon Park. Chaos, expected. Joy and Max butchered a song up front—so bad, the bus engine sounded like Mozart. Mia filmed everything, phone glued to her hand. Shun scrolled memes, smirking as if her phone whispered secrets. Mr. Dax? Dead asleep. Classic.

Upon arrival, a towering troll at the entrance handed us a map with the enthusiasm of someone who had been doing this job for far too long. "Stay together," he grumbled, in the same tone one might use to say, "Enjoy your impending doom."

The park itself was vast, a mix of open fields and rocky outcrops, all designed to house dragons in what could generously be called a semi-contained habitat.

Dragons of all colors and sizes lounged about, some basking on heated stones like overgrown lizards on a beach vacation, others soaring overhead, their wings casting enormous shadows that sent toddlers into giggle-fits and parents into mild cardiac distress.

Despite their fearsome reputation, these dragons were allegedly trained—though judging by the scorch marks on some of the enclosures, I had my doubts.

Enchantments kept them from incinerating guests, but I still wasn’t keen on testing the fine print of their training.

Families and adventurers wandered the pathways, marveling at the creatures.

There were attractions like guided tours, feeding sessions, and, for those with too much money and not enough sense, the chance to ride a dragon under strict supervision.

Ethan eyed the flight experience with the same expression he usually reserved for expensive cars and questionable life choices, but said nothing.

We were here for one reason—to capture something spectacular on film, something so breathtaking that Principal Catherine would be forced to admit this trip was worth it.

Joy declared, "We need a moment so dramatic that people will see it and go, ‘Wow, we can’t let this footage go to waste.’"

Max, of course, had other ideas. "What if we stage an almost-accident? Like, pretend someone almost gets eaten?"

I shot him a look so dry it could’ve started a wildfire. "How about we don't get expelled?"

Mia ignored our bickering, already scanning the area. "We need a strong opening. Maybe something about the history of dragons in this region. Clark, you’re the nerd. Narrate something."

I sighed, but didn’t argue, flipping through the park’s brochure to find something sufficiently educational.

That was when she appeared.

At first, I didn’t notice her. The others had scattered—some by a feeding station, others gawking at a sapphire-colored dragon curled in its nest. But when I turned back to the main pathway, there she stood.

Tall and willowy, she shimmered slightly, as if reality itself was debating whether to keep her in focus. Her skin had the smooth texture of polished ivory, glowing faintly in the midday sun.

Delicate, translucent fins fanned from the sides of her head, like petals sculpted from moonlight. And her eyes—deep, swirling with iridescent hues—locked onto mine with an urgency that made my stomach do something very uncool.

She was a Neravine.

I had only read about them—waterborne beings, rare and mysterious, known for manipulating mist and illusion. They almost never left their sanctuaries.

"Have you seen my son?" Her voice was a whisper, but it cut through the air like a blade through mist.

Before I could respond, Max—because of course it was Max—jumped in. "No, but we can find him. That sounds like a solid adventure."

I groaned. "Max, this is not an episode of Max and the Reckless Decisions—"

"Come on! A missing kid, a dragon park, and an actual Neravine? This is documentary gold!"

The Neravine exhaled sharply, the sound eerily like waves retreating from shore. "He was here.

In the park. I told him to stay close, but he wandered off. He is young. Reckless."

"How young?" I asked, my stomach tightening.

"Barely past his fledgling years. He does not yet understand the dangers of the land."

Fantastic. A lost, magical child in a park filled with dragons and other assorted nightmares. This was exactly how people ended up in those cautionary news reports about why field trips should be banned.

Joy and Max exchanged looks. "This is perfect," Max said. "We help her, save the day, and boom—front-page documentary material."

I hesitated. "Mrs. Catherine—"

Max threw an arm around my shoulders. "Ghost boy, buddy, think about it. A dramatic rescue mission? The audience will eat this up. Also, y’know, it’s the right thing to do or whatever."

Mr. Dax was currently passed out in the bus, meaning I was the only responsible-ish person left. Which meant if anything went wrong, I was the one who'd get the lecture. Yet here I was, already contemplating neck-deeping myself in trouble before we’d even started.

Why did it have to be me?

I sighed. "Fine. But if we get in trouble, I’m blaming you.”

Max grinned. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

We gathered the rest of the group, quickly explaining the situation.

Joy and Mia agreed to search the Eastern side of the park, near the flight training grounds.

Shun and Max—who had just made up from a relationship break—took the Western sector, where smaller dragons were kept.

The rest scattered—which left me and Ethan heading deeper into the park, toward the more untamed, less regulated areas.

On our way, Ethan purchased three cotton candies.

I squinted at him. "Are you stress-eating or bribing me to shut up—"

"Maybe the kid likes cotton candy,” he interjected.

I blinked. "Right. Because nothing says 'lost and afraid' like an impromptu sugar rush."

Ethan ignored me and took a massive bite, looking completely at peace with his life choices.

As we moved past the designated paths, eating cotton candy like unsupervised five-year-olds, the energy in the air shifted.

The playful cheers of visitors faded, replaced by the distant rumble of dragon wings and the rustling of unseen creatures in the underbrush.

The atmosphere thickened, the kind of silence that made you instinctively check over your shoulder.

I glanced at Ethan, who walked ahead of me, his jaw set, his eyes scanning the area like a predator searching for prey—or maybe just looking for more snacks. Hard to tell with him.

"Y'know," I muttered, lowering my voice as we stepped over a fallen branch, "if something jumps out at us, I’m throwing my cotton candy at it and running.”

Ethan smirked. "Coward."

"Survivor," I corrected. “And you just wasted half of our best peace offering." I gestured at the half-eaten fluff in his hand.

"If a dragon tries to eat us, I’ll just bribe it with the rest."

I sighed. "Yeah, I’m sure that'll work great. 'Please, mighty beast, spare us and take this artificially flavored cloud as tribute.'"

Ethan grinned munching into his candy. "Exactly."

But as he grinned, I couldn't help but wonder what was really going on in his mind. Everyone who'd witnessed what happened between Ethan and his dad—including me—had chosen not to mention it again. Maybe I didn’t want to rip the wound open. Maybe I knew he wouldn’t talk about it.

Maybe it was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened.

But whatever the reason, I knew he wasn’t as okay as he pretended to be. Still, I didn’t bring it up—not now.

Meanwhile, the deeper we went into the untamed part of the park, the more the world felt like it was holding its breath. Shadows stretched longer, twisting unnaturally as if the park itself wasn’t thrilled about our presence.

Ethan walked a few steps ahead with the bravery of the jock he was. I, on the other hand, was cycling through every possible worst-case scenario.

"You know," I muttered, stepping over a gnarled root, "this is usually the part in a horror story where the search party starts disappearing one by one."

"Relax, Ghost Boy," Ethan said without looking back. "If anything happens, just do what you do best."

"Which is?"

"Panic dramatically."

I shot him a glare, but he just smirked and kept walking.

We searched for what felt like hours. The sky shifted from bright blue to the warm hues of late afternoon.

Joy and Mia checked in over the group chat, their search coming up empty.

Max and Shun had only managed to get chased by an overly curious baby dragon.

The others were running out of places to look.

And then, just when I was about to say something utterly depressing, we found him.

Huddled in the shadow of a large rock formation, barely visible between the jagged stones, was a small figure. His knees were pulled to his chest, his delicate fins quivering as he tried to make himself as small as possible. His translucent skin shimmered faintly, his breathing quick and uneven.

The Neravine child.

Ethan held up a hand, signaling me to stay back as he slowly approached. The kid’s wide, swirling eyes darted to him, then to me, then back to him. He flinched, pressing himself further into the corner.

"Hey, kid," Ethan said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. "You gave your mom quite the scare. She’s been looking all over for you."

The boy didn’t move.

Ethan crouched down, setting the other cotton candy on the rock beside him. "You hungry?" He nudged it forward.

The kid’s eyes flickered to it, suspicion warring with undeniable interest. I could almost hear his stomach growl.

"It’s good stuff," Ethan continued. "Not as good as, I don’t know, fresh seaweed or whatever you eat, but it’s pure sugar, and that’s basically magic."

A pause. Then, hesitantly, the boy reached out, delicate fingers plucking the treat from the rock. He took a small bite. Then another. His shoulders relaxed slightly.

"See?" Ethan said, grinning. "Nothing to be scared of. Well, except Max. But you’ll get used to him."

The boy let out a quiet giggle.

I exhaled, tension leaving my body. Of course, Ethan would be the one to get through to him. The guy was infuriatingly good with people when he wanted to be.

"Can you tell us your name?" I asked carefully.

The boy hesitated, then murmured, "Liam."

"Nice to meet you, Liam," Ethan said, standing up. "Let’s get you back to your mom, yeah?"

Liam hesitated, but Ethan extended a hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, the boy took it.

The walk back felt much shorter. The moment we reached the main park, the Neravine woman appeared almost instantly, her form shimmering into existence from thin air.

"Liam!" Her voice was thick with relief as she rushed forward, sweeping the boy into her arms.

He clung to her, burying his face against her shoulder. "I’m sorry, Mother."

She exhaled sharply, holding him tight. Then she turned her gaze to us, her iridescent eyes brimming with gratitude. "Thank you. Both of you."

Ethan shrugged, running a hand through his hair like it was no big deal. "No problem. Just...

maybe keep a closer eye on him next time?"

She nodded solemnly, then reached out, pressing a cool hand against Ethan’s forehead. A faint glow pulsed between them, and for a brief moment, his usually cocky expression flickered with something I couldn’t quite place.

She turned back toward me, her gaze softer now, as if she saw something beneath the surface that even I couldn’t. Without a word, she reached out, pressing her cool palm against my forehead.

A glow—just like Ethan’s—pulsed between us, threading through my skin like ripples on water. A strange warmth settled deep in my bones—not burning, not suffocating, but steady. Comforting.

"A blessing of protection," she murmured again, her voice carrying the weight of something ancient. "May the tides always guide you home."

Then, just like that, she turned away, her silhouette dissolving into mist, leaving only the fading glow of her blessing behind.