Ashes to scales, p.1
Ashes to Scales, page 1
ASHES TO SCALES
Book 1
THE DRAGON AGE PROPHECY
N. A. HYDES
Copyright © 2024 by Nehtisha Rollis
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Art By: Neal Hopkins at Elerfine
Original Edits: Vicki Greer at www.vickiedits.com
Developmental and Line Edits: Jennia Herold D’Lima https://jenniaedits.com
Proofreading: Roxana Coumans at https://proofreadebooks.com
Created with Vellum
For my grandmother, Stella
CONTENTS
1. Jennifer
2. Jennifer
3. Matt
4. Jennifer
5. Jennifer
6. Jennifer
7. Petr
8. Jennifer
9. Petr
10. Jennifer
11. Petr
12. Matt
13. Jennifer
14. Petr
15. Jennifer
16. Jennifer
17. Matt
18. Jennifer
19. Jennifer
20. Matt
21. Jennifer
22. Petr
23. Jennifer
24. Matt
25. Jennifer
26. Matt
27. Jennifer
28. Jennifer
29. Petr
30. Jennifer
31. Matt
32. Jennifer
33. Jennifer
34. The Dream of Barry—Jennifer
35. Jennifer
Acknowledgments
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
JENNIFER
If Jennifer Wright had known the initial consequences of a kiss, she would have never kissed Matt. Then again, if she’d known how her story would end, nothing would have changed.
Standing in a remote location in a forest in North Carolina, her body pressed against the handsomest man at her college, Matt Davis, she enjoyed their first kiss. The taste of a fresh breath mint covered most of the beer as his tongue danced with hers. And as much as her actions moved her toward intense desire, another need overcame her body as she realized she needed to use the restroom.
Placing her hands on either side of Matt’s face, she gently pushed him back, separating their mouths. “Stay here,” she slurred. As she backed away, the ground spun from the alcohol she had consumed. Wobbling and giggling, she grabbed the roll of toilet paper resting on a fallen tree limb and headed away from the campfire into the woods.
Jennifer contemplated what had just happened. Matt was one of the few guys who towered over Jennifer during college orientation. At her own 5’9”, most boys met her at eye level. He, however, stood close to 6’4”. With his dark hair and eyes, brilliant white smile, and incredible physique, she initially thought him too much of a jock to be interested in her. Or, for that matter, for her to be interested in him. But, as fate dictated, they were in the same orientation group, spending hours discussing movies, dreams, and goals.
Matt Davis had all the qualities she was looking for in a boyfriend, and she thought he might be the one who would fit into her life plan.
After barely passing seventh and eighth grade due to a virus, she made a simple plan to prove her teachers and classmates wrong—to prove that she wasn’t stupid.
One thing led to another, and her parents beamed with pride at their daughter navigating tougher, more challenging courses—all with a seemingly easy A. It wasn’t, but only she knew that. Then she won recognition for the state science fair. Granted opportunities to be a Duke Scholar. Colleges contacted her for their S.T.E.M. programs. And now, she had a full ride to South Holt—as long as she kept her grades up.
Being a scholar became her addiction. She pushed herself to be an overachiever, and that became a constant draw on her free time. She’d done it all and accomplished her goals. The only thing lacking in her life, well, was her dating life.
When her schoolmates dated, she stayed home to study. By the time she went to college, her dating experience could be summed up by words from acquaintances, the internet, and movies—her personal experience didn’t exist.
She switched up her college goals. Get great grades continued as a theme, but she added find true love. Treating it like she did everything else, she studied excessively, writing her observations in a green spiral notebook.
Other than Matt being soft on the eyes, she picked him because, well, he talked to her about movies and living and doing all the things she couldn’t when she sat at home trying to excel.
The first few times she ran into Matt, he jammed his fist into his pocket and planted his eyes firmly on the ground. She made it a habit of randomly showing up at places and events she knew he would attend—smiling and interjecting into his conversations. After a few of their “accidental” meetings, he finally asked her out—well, invited her to spend time with him and his friends.
By observing and studying romance in entertainment, she concluded that men were more likely to commit to a relationship if they believed they had started the courtship. She assumed this was true because, on some primal level, men needed something to hunt. Following her own set of rules designed to cause Matt to chase her, she kept her phone calls short and sweet and waited for him to make the next move. Rule one was that he had to initiate the relationship, which included taking the first step for all physical contact.
Finally, while they were sitting in the stands at a football game almost a month ago, he reached over and took her hand. By her estimate, it was long past time for the kissing phase to begin.
Camping this weekend seemed like the perfect scenario to “accidentally” bump into his personal space. Perhaps she could trip and use him for balance when she assisted with packing the tent up on Sunday. If she positioned her body correctly and leaned in a certain way, her weekend would follow the plot of romance movies, and he’d kiss her.
At least, that was the plan.
In sudden realization, she stopped walking.
Wait, the breath mint! Who freshened their breath when camping?
The only conclusion she could make was that Matt had planned their kiss! He intentionally kissed her! Two days earlier than her schedule. Which meant she required a new strategy and timeline.
The urge returned, and she did a little pee-dance to force her bladder to hold longer. As she jigged, she caught the faint glow of the campfire. For her to feel free to… partially undress, she needed more distance from their site. Heading in the opposite direction, she thought about the new make-Matt-her-boyfriend plan.
On page fifteen of her latest green notebook, she had an idea that might work. She couldn’t remember the exact sentence—or even a resemblance of the conceptualization—she scribbled that would apply to this situation, no matter how hard she tried to focus. Distracted, she stubbed her toe on a rock, stumbled forward, and rebalanced.
She recalled two words that Matt said when they arrived, utterly surprised she hadn’t noticed the significance earlier. Matt said… one tent! He’d brought only one tent and only one sleeping bag for the two of them.
Worry swept over her as the implications of Matt kissing her this early in the weekend redefined their relationship. Only one tent and one sleeping bag for two people indicated even more changes in store before the end of the weekend.
According to all the movies about love she had studied, the current sleeping arrangements meant snuggling and talking under the full moon all night long...or sex!
A daytime vision of Matt leaning over her, his grin mischievous seconds before he removed her panties with his teeth, flashed before her eyes.
Too soon for that, and she cleared her mind of any thought—or at least tried to. Fighting to control her nerves, she fidgeted with the toilet paper in her hands. She didn’t need a mirror to confirm her bright red cheeks; heat waves radiating from her face told her what she would see if she looked in one.
They’d never discussed sex or messing around… but did people plan those events? They didn’t in movies. So far, Jennifer had never crossed that line with anyone. For sure, she wanted to try everything in books and films, but not tonight. Their relationship required more time to flourish before reaching that step—and she hadn’t shaved enough for a close encounter.
A low growl off to her right caused her to stop. While searching the area, she strained to hear a repeat of the sound. Nothing. Though, she did happily realize the campfire was finally out of sight.
With the bright moonlight casting shadows on the path, she bent over to place the toilet paper on the ground, then watched as it bounced and jumped down the hill until it disappeared.
“Great,” she said to the air, realizing she had left without a flashlight. If she planned a romantic night with Matt—that might involve missing clothing—she needed that toilet paper!
Another growl echoed much closer, followed by the crack of twigs and crunch of leaves.
Did wolves, panthers, or bears roam these woods? She knew it had deer. The sound probably came from a rabbit, and her mind had made up the snarl.
Even knowing it could be her imagination, her heart raced, and her mind panicked. Could this be a real predator out to kill her? She fought to remain composed, not wanting to draw attention to herself if it was a dangerous animal.
Stay calm.
After pausing and taking deep breaths, she pushed forward, hunting for the missing roll.
Jennifer’s gaze zeroed in on a white object, just visible down the steep hill. With a determined stride, she advanced but stumbled abruptly as her foot snagged against an unforgiving root. She careened down the hill and hit the ground with a thud, face first in the dirt. Her drunken haze left her unable to cushion her fall or feel pain… at least no one saw her embarrassing tumble.
The odor of decaying leaves irritated her nose, so she twisted her face to keep from sneezing as she stood. She dusted off the tiny rocks and sticks that stuck to her legs—wearing shorts while camping had not been her best idea.
She could no longer wait.
Standing tall, with her hands on the buttons holding up her shorts, something fuzzy and close blocked out the tree in front of her. As she focused and realized in horror what she saw, two things happened at once: the black bear let out an earth-shattering roar, and something in Jennifer’s mind said rather loudly, “Awaken!”
The sides of her face grew incredibly hot.
No, not her face—the insides of her ears, as noise erupted through her body, shaking her very bones. An odd expanding pressure caused her chest to swell without a release, like when you held in a sneeze. The uncomfortable warmth spread from her neck to her throat, then her core—all in mere seconds.
In the meantime, the bear’s paw pulled back to run its claws through her body, but as the natural weapons slowly approached her face, she grew—like in the video game Rampage.
How was that even possible? Did alcohol make you have delusions?
She didn’t know bears had facial expressions other than in cartoons, but the creature’s eyes changed from tiny anger-filled slits to round, shock-filled circles as its paw slowly extended toward her.
Running wasn’t an option with the animal so close. Instead, she shoved to move the beast out of her personal space. With the push, the bear’s last expression included eyes now shaped like ovals, and its chin dropped. She recognized this as fear.
An aroma of barbeque saturated the area as Jennifer’s fingers met bear flesh that felt a lot like running her hand through water, not as easy as air to manipulate, but not as hard as the ground.
The sweet scent of honey, brown sugar, and pepper caused Jennifer’s mouth to water. Before she thought about it, completely on instinct, she bit and pulled out a chunk of bear flesh, chewing and swallowing. The raw meat tasted gamey and tougher than beef, but the blood-rich tissue held a delicious chili flavor. As she chewed, the light of life faded from the bear’s eyes.
The thought that she, Jennifer Wright, had killed a bear and then eaten a piece of it was so absurd, so unbelievable, that it left her speechless. Was this real? Was it just a dream? She wondered if she was living in some sort of fantastical world because this sort of thing only happened in fiction and never in real life.
This is real. This has happened, she thought to herself. It didn’t stop her hysterical laughter that sounded like some dying animal wheezing.
Naked, she giggled—the giggles coming out in cackles—and released her bladder. Drunk, the thought she no longer had to remove her pants occurred to her as funny, in the way an intoxicated person laughs at anything. As she stared at where her shorts once rested, she observed two ginormous red legs, thick as tree trunks, with red-clawed feet.
Standing in this awkward pose, curiosity got the best of her, and she brought her left hand up to her face. A scaly three-pronged talon obeyed her commands.
While playing with her velociraptor hands, something in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Instead of a nose, a red snout stretched past the point of convergence for her eyes. Jennifer focused on tiny red ruby scales covering it that sparkled in the moonlight. On the very tip were dark nostrils, like on a horse. With her tongue, she felt sharp, jagged, pointed teeth hanging out over her lips that now extended out in an elongated jaw.
Oh! Her imagination held so many layers of depth! She hoped she hadn’t passed out in the field before she went to the bathroom.
Wet pants. That would be so embarrassing!
Moving around, a black flap of skin snapped in front of her, and she thought she recognized a wing. Continuing to jitter, the loose wings flopped around like they were useless. If they were hers, she couldn’t control them, but in the few glimpses she saw, they appeared nothing like a butterfly’s and closer to broken bird wings. She spun in circles, trying to catch a better view—anything other than red and black flaps of skin.
An oppressive wave of exhaustion swept over her body. She stretched her shimmery, scaly arms to the sky in a yawn. The tiredness dragged on her mind, like an anchor to a sinking ship, begging her to follow it down into a deep, dark abyss. Her limbs felt like heavy stones, and her eyelids grew extra heavy with sleep.
She remembered the anesthetic they used when she had surgery to remove her tonsils at twelve, and how she felt now reminded her of that. No more exploring tonight because she no longer had the strength to keep her lids open.
She mused that the night had a certain magical quality to it, like something from a fairytale. However, this tale was unlike any other. Usually, it was the prince that saved the maiden from a malevolent creature. But for her, a college student, it seemed fate had changed the story—she was the monster.
The ridiculous idea of her being a beast made her want to laugh in hysteria, but she hissed and crackled instead. As she searched for a soft, dry patch of leaves to curl up in and rest, she imagined herself stomping a small city. Finding a passable spot, she laid down in a similar position as a dog.
Just before her eyes drifted shut, she imagined her own fairytale, envisioned herself as the powerful dragon that swooped down to take the fair Prince Matt away to her own secluded cave.
She was determined to keep him forever.
CHAPTER 2
JENNIFER
As Jennifer laid on the bear, she dreamed of a fair lady on her wedding day. However, she wasn’t the center of her delusional creation; she became the bride’s mother, Lung.
A single window allowed the sun to shine on the gray curved stone walls, giving the room a medieval aura. Her surroundings reminded her of fairytales, especially the ones set in castle turrets. Jennifer guessed it was sometime in the afternoon from the long shadows cast by the daylight outside that hit a faded mirror.
Abruptly, Spring faced her mother, Lung. Silky pale blond strands drifted out of Lung’s fingers. The emerald green eyes that stared back were almost identical to Jennifer’s, and the face had the same high-arched brows, though less thick.
The rest of her face didn’t match Jennifer’s at all. Spring was beautiful with a perfect Barbie nose, shapely rose-shaded lips, and a delicate chin—much daintier than Jennifer’s fuller face.
Spring spoke with a high-pitched, soft voice and said, “I’m nervous, Mother.”
“All will be well, my beautiful and graceful daughter. Your groom is a lucky man,” Lung responded with a soft, even voice that reminded Jennifer of an easy-listening radio host. She placed her withered hand on Spring’s thin white shoulder strap, noticing the cool, delicate material felt finer than silk Egyptian sheets.
Glancing away from Spring, Lung surveyed her reflection in the old, faded mirror. A thin, frail woman with a mixture of gold and silver shoulder-length straight hair stared back. She wore a white robe with dragons sewn in bright reds, greens, and blues along the shoulders and collar—a representation of their people and city.
