Page 2 of Ash and Burn

"Thank you. For everything."

Maggie smiled without looking up. "You saved my life. Least I can do is make sure you remember to live yours."

The words followed Arvid as she left the university building, stepping into the warm Dallas night. The campus was quiet except for the distant sound of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from students who had better social lives than she did.

Maybe Maggie was right. Maybe she should be reaching for stars instead of settling for survival.

The corner restaurant glowed with warm light, its windows revealing a crowd of college students and professors who all seemed to be living their best lives. When she finally stepped into the space, conversations flowed around tables laden with actual food, and the energy felt infectious in a way that made Arvid's carefully controlled world seem suddenly very small.

She headed straight for the bar—not because she needed alcohol, but because seating for one at the bar felt less obvious than a lonely table for one. The bartender nodded as she settled onto a stool, and Arvid found herself studying the other patrons, all of them seeming to navigate social connection with an ease she'd forgotten how to access.

But the bigger truth, she realized as she opened the menu, wasn't that she was miserable. It was that she'd built a life that mostly worked and was quietly terrified to ask whether "mostly worked" was enough.

Minutes later, the bartender slid a glass of wine across the polished surface as Arvid settled deeper onto the barstool, the leather creaking beneath her weight. She'd ordered something simple—a grilled chicken sandwich and fries—food that required no thought and would actually qualify as a meal in Maggie's estimation. The restaurant buzzed with Friday night energy around her, conversations weaving together into a tapestry of social engagement.

Suddenly, a petite woman materialized on the adjacent stool with the kind of fluid grace that suggested she'd been doing this dance for decades. Her snow-white hair caught the bar's amber lighting, styled in a perfect bob, and her designer pantsuit—a bold green that should have clashed with the warm lighting but somehow didn't—marked her as someone who understood the power of making an entrance.

Arvid took a careful sip of wine and focused on her phone, scrolling through research articles she'd already read twice. Social interaction with strangers ranked somewhere below root canals on her list of preferred activities.

"This dry heat is absolute torture, isn't it?" The woman's voice carried a warmth that seemed to fill the space between them. "I swear Texas summers get more brutal every year."

Arvid glanced up, meeting eyes that shifted between bright blue and something that looked almost gold in the bar's lighting. Basic politeness won over her instinct to retreat into silence.

"It's definitely intense," Arvid agreed. "Though I suppose it beats the torrential rain we had last month."

"Oh, honey, you're so right about that." The woman laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "I'm Gerri, by the way. Gerri Wilder."

"Arvid."

"What a beautiful name. Strong. Purposeful." Gerri signaled the bartender with practiced ease. "Vodka tonic, extra lime, and make it a double. It's been one of those weeks."

Something about Gerri's presence made the usual tension in Arvid's shoulders ease. Maybe it was the woman's complete lack of expectation—she wasn't trying to impress or interrogate, just existing in the moment with infectious confidence.

"What kind of work keeps you out this late on a Friday?" Gerri asked, genuine curiosity coloring her tone.

"Research. Infectious disease, specifically." The words came easier than they usually did with strangers. "I run a small independent lab. Nothing glamorous, but it pays the bills."

Gerri's eyes lit up with interest. "Now that sounds absolutely fascinating. What kind of diseases?"

Arvid found herself leaning forward slightly, drawn into the conversation despite herself. "Currently I'm working on something called Dragon's Blight. It's a rare blood disease that affects maybe three hundred people worldwide. But more cases are popping up lately."

"Dragon's Blight." Gerri repeated the name slowly, as if testing how it felt on her tongue. "How intriguing. The name itself suggests something almost mythological, doesn't it?"

"I've always thought so. Most rare diseases get clinical names that sound like alphabet soup, but this one..." Arvid shrugged. "Someone with an active imagination named it, I suppose. The cellular structure actually resembles scaled patterns under certain magnification levels, which might explain the dragon reference."

The bartender delivered Gerri's drink and Arvid's food simultaneously. The sandwich looked better than she'd expected.

"You know," Gerri said, stirring her drink with a straw, "I have the most unique opportunity that might interest someone like yourself."

Arvid paused mid-bite. "What kind of opportunity?"

"Well, my profession is rather unusual. I'm a paranormal matchmaker. I know, I know, it sounds completely insane—but one of my previous clients mentioned something that's been weighing on my mind." Gerri's expression grew serious. "There's an outbreak happening on another planet called Nova Aurora. Specifically in a territory called Ashvorn where dragon shifters live."

The sandwich turned to sawdust in Arvid's mouth. "I'm sorry, did you just say another planet? With dragon shifters?"

"I did indeed. And from what you've told me about your research, you sound incredibly qualified to investigate this situation." Gerri's eyes flashed that odd gold color again. "The symptoms they're describing sound remarkably similar to what you've been studying. So, if you're interested, I could absolutely arrange transport there. Tomorrow, even."

Arvid set down her sandwich, her mind racing through the logical impossibilities of what she'd just heard. "Tomorrow? To another planet? To investigate an outbreak among... dragon shifters?"