The Last Dragon Princess

CHAPTER ONE

Avena

PRESENT, AGE NINETEEN

The bus jerked as it hit a pothole, and I grabbed the armrest tightly. The elderly woman next to me smiled softly, her eyes creasing in a way that showed she smiled a lot. I had become good at noticing those small details, whether someone was naturally more prone to frowning or smiling. It was a survival instinct, something that had saved me more times than I could count.

Lowering her knitting, the woman commented, “These roads sure aren’t for the faint of heart.”

I grimaced but chuckled lightly. “I’m just glad I didn’t eat a big breakfast.”

We had been navigating the winding, poorly maintained mountain roads of Northern California for about an hour now.

The woman laughed softly. “My son is lucky I love him enough to make this trip to visit.”

A pang of sadness tugged at my heart. No matter how many years had passed since my parents died, moments like this still triggered that deep, aching void. I had been fortunate to land in a good foster family on my third placement, a family that kept me long enough to finish high school even after I turned eighteen.

But despite their kindness and the stroke of luck, it wasn’t the same as having my own parents. There was always a sense of distance, like staying in a hotel for years instead of truly being at home.

“That’s nice. Where does he live?” I asked, forcing a smile.

She resumed her knitting, her fingers deftly working the yarn. “He lives in Hamilton—just a few more stops from here. What about you? Where are you headed?”

“Ember Holt. I’m starting at Embercrest University.”

It still felt surreal. After struggling academically in the wake of my parents’ deaths, I had found my footing and managed to secure a full scholarship to a small, private university nestled in the redwoods.

The woman whistled softly. “You must be pretty smart.”

“I’m decent, but I’ve learned how to study hard.” School became my refuge, a place to lose myself. It was hard to be consumed by grief when I was busy with calculus problems or anatomy flashcards.

“Hard work beats talent any day,” she said.

“I hope you’re right.” I smiled. I was determined to succeed, especially on the pre-med track, where I needed to do well to get another scholarship for medical school.

As the bus rounded another sharp curve, a sudden jolt of energy coursed through me, like static electricity amplified or being struck by lightning.

“You okay?” the woman asked, noticing my paleness.

I shook it off as a sign appeared: *Welcome to Ember Holt, Population 2013*.

“Just some nerves, I guess. First-day jitters.”

She offered another reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

The bus lurched again, and the driver grabbed the microphone. “Approaching Ember Holt. First stop, Embercrest University.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” I said, peeking out the window.

The dense forest gave way to a charming downtown with an Old West feel—completely different from the Seattle suburb where I’d spent the last eight years. Antique lampposts lined the streets, and I even noticed old hitching posts. I couldn’t help but wonder if people still rode horses around here.

The bus made another turn, leaving downtown and entering campus. The Embercrest University sign, carved into stone, looked elegant, making my stomach twist with a slight sense of unease.

For the past three years, I worked hard at my part-time job and managed to save up some extra cash for college, but I definitely wouldn’t call myself rich.

The bus came to a slow stop, letting out a soft hiss. “Everyone for Ember Holt, Embercrest University.”

I stood up, grabbing my backpack as the older woman moved aside to let me pass.

"Go knock ‘em dead, sweetie," the woman said with a smile.

I grinned back. "I’ll give it my best shot."

With my backpack slung over one shoulder, I grabbed my duffel from the overhead bin and headed down the aisle. Two other passengers exited before me, heading toward the driver by the luggage bays.

As I started walking toward campus, the driver called out, “Don’t you have a suitcase?”

I turned and shook my head. “Everything I need is right here.”

I didn’t have much to bring along. The Johansens had been as generous as they could, but they had several other kids to care for, and money wasn’t plentiful. I wanted to be smart and save for what really mattered.

The driver waved, and I turned back toward campus, taking in the sight of the buildings. They were stunning—red brick with white trim. They looked grand and important, and that familiar worry about not fitting in crept up again.

I shifted the duffel on my shoulder and pushed myself to move. Not fitting in wasn’t exactly new to me. I’d always been the odd one out. Sure, I had a few friends in high school, but no one I was close to. It was almost like my classmates thought losing your family was contagious.

Scanning the area, I searched for the student center. I’d practically memorized the welcome packet from all the times I pored over it. I’d studied the campus map countless times, but being here in person was different—or maybe I was just bad with directions.

I spotted what looked like a campus directory and headed toward it.

The brick pathways beneath my feet had a cobblestone-like charm, giving the place a sense of history. I could already imagine myself getting lost in it, learning everything I could about my new home.

Stopping in front of the large map, I tried to get my bearings. It took a moment to find the “You Are Here” mark and figure out the route to the student center. Luckily, it wasn’t too far.

Excitement washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile as I headed off in the right direction.—until I collided with something that felt like a brick wall.