I stood at the top, looking out over the cliff, my palm pressed firmly against the cold, reassuring granite that anchored me to this moment. Stars twinkled overhead, and a light breeze blew my hair back. The view, even under starlight, was astonishing. My excellent night vision, a family trait, made the forest below seem especially vivid.
The seventeen-mile hike had been worth it. I spent most of the day climbing the Yosemite trail. Not for the faint of heart, it was tough. Most hikers I passed were heading back. I had started late, as planned. Sitting near the top to watch the sunset was a highlight. The colors on the horizon were hard to describe. My roommate had asked me to get home before midnight; I still hoped to make it.
The hike gave me time to think. These days, I live with a roommate. I replayed that night again—my parents and girlfriend lost in a house fire while I was stuck in an exam hall, unaware. The surreal ache of reading those strange messages on my phone afterward, the panic as I rushed home, and the devastation of finding only a smoldering crater where my house had been—those moments haunted me. Two days later, still numb, a woman I had never met offered me a place to stay, and I accepted because there was nowhere else to go.
She showed up the next day, introduced herself as Akasha. The funeral was days later. The fire had been so hot that there were no remains to prepare. The authorities could not explain it. Nobody showed up to the funeral. I didn’t have many friends. My girlfriend had been in the house with my parents. Her family blamed mine and refused to show up. That afternoon, we flew across the country back to Akasha’s house in Yosemite Valley, California.
The loss of my parents hurt, but the loss of my girlfriend, Sydney, had left a gaping hole in my chest that I did not know how to deal with. We had been together for a year. Had talked about moving in together. She often stayed with me at my parents’ house. Sydney had been the first woman I had ever slept with. Though I barely remember that experience. That had been a week before the fire.
That had been a crazy week. The week leading into finals week. I had spent every hour free studying. Preparing for the next big test. I had tried to find time to get together with Sydney, but she had been crazy busy herself. Something she and my parents were working on together. They had all seemed so excited and wrapped up in what they were doing that I never got the chance to ask them what it was. Looking back, I wish I had had more time to spend with them. I had known something strange had been going on, but I had been too busy with my own stuff to dig into it. My parents had said they were so proud of me. Finally coming into my own. Something about “inheriting my birthright”. I never got to ask them what that meant.
After the funeral, Akasha gave me a single day to drown in grief. Then she pulled me back to reality, her determination slicing through my numbness. According to her, grief was a luxury for other people. Life demanded more from me now, and she refused to let me sink. My studies became irrelevant overnight. I had spent years chasing a computer science degree. That had been before. Akasha insisted it was irrelevant now compared to the urgent lessons she insisted I needed—the lessons that could not wait for a heart to heal.
Akasha was a great roommate. We took turns taking care of the house. One wall in the living room was covered in contemporary books—mostly non-fiction, historical kinds, accounting history from different perspectives. In the basement, she had a massive library of ancient history. Some books contained things so wild they were hard to believe. But she gave me full access and asked me to spend my spare time studying them.
I once asked her why it was important to know that the people who lived in Yosemite two centuries ago nearly died because their crops failed, and that the only way they survived the winter was when a stranger brought them fresh vegetables in the dead of night. The documents were written like a local legend that proclaimed the Lady of Yosemite was their savior and protector. Akasha only blinked at me and said, "All legends have some basis in truth."
Then she went on to tell me that there were things that I needed to experience to explore my own heritage – things that would help me to know who I really am and my true nature.
And here I am sitting on the edge of Half Dome looking out over the amazing Yosemite valley. I loved the forest—the fresh air, trees, distant animal sounds, and wind in my hair. This felt more like home than anywhere else. The only thing better than standing on the edge was the leap.
The first time Akasha brought me up here, she threw me off the cliff. She is not a large woman. At just over five feet tall, Akasha is almost always the shortest person in the room. I tower over her, but I would never dare cross her. When she enters, everyone notices. There is something otherworldly about her—an exotic beauty and effortless grace.
I still remember our first hike up to Half Dome together, clear as day. It’s not exactly something one would forget.
As we exited the car at the start of the trail, Akasha handed me an unusual backpack. It resembled a hiking backpack, with a spacious, insulated main compartment and large pockets on either side for water bottles. The fabric felt almost silky smooth against my skin. It was brown and warm to the touch. There was a large amount of extra fabric packed into the sides. I inspected it more closely, noticing how it slid into the catches on the sides.
I slipped the straps over my shoulders and tightened the pack against my back. Even with a water bottle on each side, the pack felt light against my back. Akasha came around the side of the car with her own backpack, identical to mine. She smiled as she saw me tightening the straps and bouncing the pack against my back to check its comfort.
“What is this made of? I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Akasha did not like to talk much about things in public. I knew she would tell me when she was ready. Two hours into the hike, she started to speak to me.
“You will be doing this hike at least twice a week. Sometimes, I will come with you, and sometimes, you will do it alone. You’d best get comfortable with that.”
“Are we spending the night?”
“No. You’ll come down in the dark.”
“Is that safe?”
Akasha stopped, took a deep breath, and turned to face me. We had been hiking for an hour already, and she had a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her eyes were filled with an intensity that made me look away. She pointed to a set of rocks just off the trail. I walked over, slipped my backpack off, and sat on a boulder. As she came over, Akasha grabbed a stick and started drawing in the dirt before the rocks.
Curious, I stood and walked towards her. She stopped and held up a hand to stop me before I got too close. From what I could see, she had carved a large runic symbol in the dirt. She stepped back, nodded in satisfaction, then mumbled something under her breath. The rune glowed briefly. Akasha nodded again, turned, and sat next to me.
“What was that?”
“Something so that no one interrupts our conversation.”
Just then, a group of hikers came down the trail towards us. They walked right past us without even noticing us. I cocked an eyebrow at Akasha. She smiled. With a well-practiced twist, she slipped her backpack off and retrieved a bottle of water. Akasha took a swig, then fished a granola bar out of the pack. She ripped the packaging off and took a bite.
“Eat,” Akasha said around a second mouthful. “We will not be taking another break for a while.”
I slipped my pack off and fished out my own granola bar. After Akasha had finished her granola bar, she took another long sip of water. Then she put the pack back on and turned to me.
“Your pack is made of dragon leather.”
I choked and started to laugh. Seeing the serious look on her face, I stopped.
“You cannot be serious. Dragons aren’t real.”
“They are.”
“Okay, where did you get the skin from?”
“It’s my skin.”
This time, I did laugh. It was too ridiculous.
“You are a dragon?”
“As are you, Edgar.” Her eyes blazed with an intensity that made the hairs on my neck stand on end. “When was the last time you got sick?”
I stopped and thought about that. I could not remember the last time I got sick. Even during the COVID pandemic, nobody in my family had gotten sick. We had self-isolated, as everyone else did, but nobody got sick.
“When was the last time you got injured? Fell and scraped your knee? That time you fell out of the tree? Did you get hurt? Or when you ran into a parked car on your bicycle when you were nine?”
“Wait, how do you know all this?”
“Your parents kept me informed.”
“Then WHY are my parents DEAD, Akasha?” I demanded. I stood and turned away, my eyes burning. This was not fair.
“I don’t know,” she answered softly. “I’ve been searching for those answers and fear we may never know what happened that day.”
The sorrow in her voice stopped me. I wanted to scream and yell, but something in her voice stopped me. I wiped the tears from my face and turned back to her. Akasha was huddled on the rock, looking at the ground. Tears tracked down her cheeks. She looked up at me, and her eyes blazed with more emotion than I could fathom. She hopped off the rock and rushed into me. Her fists balled up in my shirt, pulling me down to her face.
“Your parents were brilliant. We all needed the answers to the questions they were asking. Now they are DEAD! All we have left is you.”
“Why are we here?” I asked, my voice a harsh whisper.
“So you can embrace your inheritance.”
With that, she released my shirt and pushed me back from her. I staggered and nearly fell as Akasha turned, kicked dirt across the rune on the ground, and stomped up the trail. I blinked, grabbed my backpack, slung it over my shoulders, and jogged after her to catch up.
I spent the next four hours trying to keep up with Akasha. She stomped up the trail, muttering to herself and occasionally glaring at me. She did not stop for breaks. She pushed past hikers on their way down. When she got thirsty, she would pull out her water bottle, take a swig, and put it back without breaking a stride.
When we finally reached the top, Akasha walked to the very edge of the cliff and stared into the horizon. The sun had gone down an hour before, and the darkness was nearly complete. Stars twinkled overhead. I was not sure what she was staring at, so I stood back from the edge, waiting for her.
Akasha turned towards me. Her eyes glowed amber in the dark. A shiver ran down my back. I took a step back from her. She raised a hand and beckoned me forward. I stood my ground.
“Jump.”
“No.”
“Jump, or I will throw you off this mountain.”
“Hell no.”
Akasha was suddenly in front of me. One moment, she was at the cliff edge, and the next, her hands were on me. One balled in the center of my shirt, the other grabbed my belt. She lifted me off my feet like I weighed nothing and walked towards the cliff.
“What the fuck!?” I cried out in surprise. She stalked towards the edge, holding me over her head.
“You will embrace your destiny, Edgar, or the scavengers will feed well tonight.”
“Wait, can’t we talk about this?”
“No.”
Then she hurled me off the cliff. I tumbled through the air, growing dizzy as I watched the stars and horizon do flips. Then I remembered watching videos of skydivers. I stretched out my arms and legs and steadied myself. I stopped flipping, but now I had a magnificent view of the forest rushing to meet me. Half Dome is only six thousand feet up. The ground below was closer than that. I had very little time before the impact would splatter me across the ground.
Pushing the panic away, I remembered all the extra fabric tucked into my backpack. I reached back and grabbed it, pulling. I felt it pop loose and start to unfold behind me. I grabbed it, catching my hands on the edge of the fabric. The fabric twisted around my arms, tightening in the rush of the wind. I could feel the fabric stop flapping and start to go rigid.
As the fabric went tight above me, I felt my descent slow. I was no longer falling but gliding high over the treetops. I turned and looked at the fabric; it looked more like a wing than a cloak. It was sinewy and leathery, like a bat’s wing, only much larger.
I felt, more than heard, something large moving through the air above me. I looked up, and the stars were momentarily blotted out as something huge flew over me. It banked to the right, flapped its wings, and sped past me. I banked and followed it. The landscape blurred beneath me as we zoomed over the treetops, getting closer to the ground. There was a break in the trees, and the shadow headed down to it. I spotted the opening and followed.
For a moment the light gave me a half-glimpse of what I was following. A petite frame. Legs extended, large wings that looked strangely familiar. Leathery, like the material of my own cloak, stretched tight in the wind. A flash of silvery, platinum hair in the night. Akasha? My mind reeled, connecting the dots. She had been carrying the same backpack. She must have jumped after me, and now I followed her.
Akasha dove towards the ground. At the last second, she swooped upward and flapped her wings hard, coming to a stall. She settled on the ground lightly. The wings folded around her as she walked a few steps, then turned and looked up at me.
I tried to replicate what I had seen done. I dove for the open ground. As I sped downwards, my heart pounding louder and louder in my ears, my nerves got the best of me. I changed the angle, leveling off. I flapped my wings hard, bringing myself to a stop some ten feet off the ground, and dropped heavily to my feet.
Akasha walked over to me and said, with a sly smile, “You need to work on those landings.”
Jumping off Half-Dome is illegal. An old law from 1965, predating any jumping activity, forbids “aerial delivery” of people or goods in national parks. There was a movement in the late 1990s to get base jumping legalized, but after some very public deaths from protestors of the law, the National Park Service upheld it. That does not stop the hard-core folks from doing it anyway, though; they do generally get caught and either fined heavily or spend some time in jail for it. Hence, I jumped at night. Some national parks do still allow jumps. The Gorge in Oregon is one such location. I hoped to jump there someday but knew that the risk of being spotted was too great.
I took several deep breaths, steadying myself. This was not my first jump. I had done a lot before. Standing at the edge was always the most challenging part. I pulled my cloak around me, feeling the warmth of the heavy fabric against my exposed arms. I backed up several steps, then ran to the edge of the cliff. As I hit the edge, I leaped out as far as possible. Just as Akasha had taught me. The air rushed across my body as I free-fell. I grabbed the edges of my cloak and held my arms out. I could feel the wind catching the heavy fabric.
I could feel the fabric molding itself to my back. The shift was subtle, but I could feel it changing. The lower edge tightened; the fabric was no longer flapping. It had gone rigid from my back out to the edge. I felt it wrapping around my arms, tightening against my skin until I could no longer tell where my arm ended, and the cloak began. I held my arms out stiffly, feeling the wind catch underneath. I glided out from the cliff, over the forest. I flapped my arms once, twice, gaining altitude.
I soared high above the highest treetops, sweeping my gaze over the landscape, reveling in the wind across my body. I stopped worrying about falling a long time ago. Nothing made me feel more alive than flying over the forest. I flew over Camp Curry and the Glacier Point Museum. This late at night, few lights were still on. I knew the workers were cleaning things up after another busy day with all the tourists who visited the park.
This was what true freedom felt like: the wind blowing through my hair, nothing before me but open skies. I turned west and flapped my cloak/wings to gain altitude as I approached the high cliffs. Once I passed over the peaks, I tucked my cloak and dove towards the Merced River. The wind roared in my ears as I descended. Then, I extended my arms, caught the wind, and soared. My heart thundered in my chest as I swooped down over the river.
Akasha owned a small house along the Merced River, near the junction with Tenaya Creek. It was a modest house, nothing fancy. She said it had been in the family for generations. I flapped my wings, soaring over the river, following its twists and turns. I spotted the house, banked up, flapping hard to slow my descent, then dropped lightly to the beach. I folded my cloak against my back and felt the fabric release from my arms. I pushed the cloak back behind me as I walked up the beach. Goosebumps prickled my arms in the night air. I took a deep breath and could smell snow in the air.
There was something else in the air, as well. A flinty odor combined with flowery perfume. I saw a young woman leaning against a tree, watching me. There was something familiar about her. I started to walk towards her. She pushed off the tree and stepped forward, but kept to the shadows.
I inhaled again, puzzling over the scent of her sweat. I peered harder at her, letting my senses discern the details. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. She was nervous and a little afraid. I could also smell her arousal. The woman was not much older than I was, judging by the clean lines of her face and the roundness of her body. Her pale skin flushed with the cold. Her eyes were hazel, watching me warily. She licked her full lips, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. She was shorter than I was by at least half a foot. The young woman wore tight jeans that hugged shapely legs and tapered to narrow ankles. A thick jacket was zipped up to her chin, though I could make out the swell of an ample chest. Thick, dark hair twisted in the soft breeze around her face.
“Ed?” she asked. Her voice was soft and timid. Memories rolled through my mind. I remembered that voice calling my name softly as her arms held me tight against her. My heart hammered in my chest.
“Sydney?” She smiled, a flash of white in the dark. Sydney stepped forward, and the moon’s light caught her face. I gasped; my heart caught in my throat. Her simple beauty captivated me. She wore not an ounce of makeup. Sydney had one of those classically beautiful faces that did not need makeup to catch the eye. When she smiled, she had full lips, a soft nose, and dimples at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled with moisture as she stood watching me.
“I thought you were dead,” I whispered. Sydney watched me, tears in her eyes.
“How are you still alive?”
“I got out.”
I took another step towards her. For a moment, I wondered if she was real. Could she be a ghost? Or a hallucination? Sydney’s breath frosted the night air.
“I’ve been trying to find you ever since you moved away. Did you know there was no forwarding address?”
“Akasha likes her privacy.”
Sydney barked a harsh laugh. “I had to hire a private investigator to find you. Took him six months to track you down.”
I whistled appreciatively. “That must have cost you.”
Sydney nodded. “Seeing you again is worth it, though.”
I smiled at the warmth in her voice. “It is good to see you again, too.”
Sydney reached out her hand to me. I hesitated, standing just outside of her reach, feeling doubt tugging at the edges of my mind. Something felt off in the way the night air swirled between us. I could not quite put my finger on it, yet a subtle unease prickled at the back of my neck. I could smell her nervousness, but it mirrored my own underlying suspicion. Fighting the urge to retreat, I finally took the extra step and clasped her hand in mine, pushing aside the nagging doubts for the sake of the warmth of her skin. As soon as our flesh touched, I felt a sense of calm. Sydney smiled, and I felt it from the top of my head down to my toes. I smiled back, my heart thumping hard in my chest. It felt so right to hold her hand. Sydney ran her thumb over my knuckles. A shudder of pleasure ran down my back at her touch.
“Shall we go say hi to Akasha?”
I nodded like an overeager schoolboy. Grinning like an idiot, I started walking to our house, Sydney following a half-step back behind me, holding my hand. Something in the back of my head screamed out in warning. I ignored it. I did not care how wrong this was; it felt too good to hold her hand.
A short walk along the trail opened into a small clearing. The yard was fenced in and full of dragon carvings. Some were carved in stone, others in wood. The smallest were two feet tall, while the large ones towered over ten feet tall. At the gate, two massive dragons had been carved from stone, rearing up, wings spread, mouths open, as if they were going to breathe fire on anyone approaching the yard.
I heard Sydney’s breath catch in her throat. I laughed.
“Cool, aren’t they?” I pulled Sydney up behind me as I patted the dragon carving to the right of the opening on his massive arm. “This one is George. He is one of my favorites.”
“Did Akasha carve all of these?”
“Nah. Some of them are over one hundred years old. She said they have been in the family for generations. Come check this one out.” I pulled Sydney deeper into the yard. I could feel her trying to resist my pull. She followed reluctantly, not letting go of my hand. I could feel her sweat and smell her fear. I laughed. “There is nothing to fear here. They are just carvings.”
We walked deeper into the yard, to the back fence. A massive dragon towered over ten feet tall. The dragon stood on its hind legs, its front legs folded across its chest. This dragon was more human-looking than some of the others—more a man-shaped, massive lizard with wings and scales. The wings were folded against his back, the tips protruding over his shoulders. His eyes, carved with intricate detail, seemed to follow us as we approached.
“This is Melvin,” I said as we approached him. I crossed my arms over my chest, still holding Sydney’s hand, and leaned against the massive statue. Trying to strike the same pose.
“Akasha says I remind her of this one.” I grinned as I looked at Sydney. She shivered and tried to pull me away from the statue.
“Can we go inside now? These things give me the creeps.” A shiver ran through Sydney’s frame. She craned her neck up and gazed at the face of the massive dragon statue. A shudder ran through her body. I stepped away from the statue and pulled her closer to me. My heart thumped as she wrapped an arm around my waist.
“You’re scared,” I said as I softly kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be. They are just statues. They aren’t going to come alive and eat you.”
Sydney gazed up at the massive dragon over my shoulder, “Are you sure?”
I nodded and laughed. “Nothing to fear, I’ll protect you.”
“Promise?” Her voice was small and trembled. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her against my chest. She looked up at me and smiled timidly. My heart thundered at the closeness of her body. I could feel her breasts pressed against me through her thick jacket. My body was incredibly happy to have her there. Warmth filled her gaze, and she licked her lips as she looked up at me. I gulped nervously. She pressed herself more firmly against me. My manhood throbbed in response.
“You seem very happy to see me,” Sydney whispered. “Shall we go inside and see just how happy?”
I opened my mouth to answer her, but words failed me. I nodded instead. Sydney grinned and stepped back from me. She started to walk away from me, pulling me by the hand. She looked over her shoulder and winked. My heart skipped a beat as I followed her.
Sydney walked slowly through the yard of statues. She paused to navigate her way. More than once, she got her jacket caught on a dragon’s claw, snout, or wing tip. It was like they were reaching out to slow her down. I walked behind her, my eyes glued to her firm ass as it shook with each step.
Finally, we made our way to the porch steps. Two large wood dragon statues stood at the sides of the steps. They sat like cats, their wings folded along their backs, watching all who approached. Sydney paused at the bottom of the steps. She turned to me and smiled.
“Enjoying the view?”
I gulped and nodded as I stepped up next to her. She gestured with her free hand to the steps. I stepped forward and led the way. As I reached the top step, I ran my hand over the head of the dragon on the side. Petting it like you would pet a cat. The wood was warm and smooth beneath my fingers. I always imagined it purring in response to that gentle caress. Sydney pulled her hand close to her chest, eyeing the statue warily as she walked by.
