To say dragons were bad at yoga would’ve been a premature assessment — to say that Oscar was terrible at it, however, was plain for everyone to see.

  No one would’ve cared much, not even Oscar, had it not been for the presence of another dragon, who was quite skilled at matching every figure Mira demonstrated in the front. It was the same dragon they’d seen over lunch the other day — a red female of impressive proportions, but no less nimble for it.

  While Oscar squirmed and struggled, the crimson dragon seemed to levitate in the air, gracefully transitioning her sizable body from one position to the next. She did so with ease and virtue, a gentle flow to her movements. Even the other regular class members couldn’t match her prowess, not even the weightless wraith in the second row.

  “Excellent form, Ruby,” Mira shouted across the maze of workout mats.

  The quirky receptionist was wearing a pink training suit and a white headband that propped up her curly black hair. The practical glasses on her nose came with a jarring yellow frame.

  Ruby appreciatively inclined her head, keeping perfect balance in her one-legged downward dragon.

  “It doesn’t work,” Oscar muttered, trying to get his limbs under control.

  While Flynn was also in no position to give advice, he did do a little better than the dragon.

  “Just … try using your core more.”

  The dragon let out a strained puff. His eyes kept scurrying to the female dragon a few rows away, scared that she’d notice his inadequacy.

  “I don’t even think I have the same kind of muscles as you,” the dragon deflected.

  “If the centipede can figure it out, I’m sure you can, too,” Flynn murmured, nodding in the direction of the multi-legged animal.

  Oscar growled in frustration.

  “May I remind you,” Flynn added pointedly, “that this was your idea entirely? I never would’ve come here on my own — not if my life depended on it.”

  “Flynn, Oscar!” Mira’s voice was heard, too close for comfort. “I didn’t even notice you were here.”

  Flynn knew for a fact she had noticed.

  The receptionist-turned-yoga-instructor approached them with bouncy steps, giving tips as she passed other class members.

  Mira came to a halt in front of them, a sweaty smile on her lipstick-covered lips. Adjusting the glasses on her nose, she examined their forms for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  “I see you are giving it your all,” she then said with a hint of skepticism.

  A chill breeze accompanied her words, brushing over the exposed deck of the Mythical Ward. The sun was still hidden behind the tall mountains in the east, and only a few purple clouds heralded its arrival.

  “I guarantee if you come more often, you’ll soon get the hang of it,” the yoga teacher placated.

  Flynn muttered a curse under his breath, while Mira stepped over to Oscar with an outstretched hand.

  “May I?”

  The dragon grunted approvingly, trying hard not to lose balance.

  Mira gently yanked on his thigh while lifting his wing.

  “There,” she declared, examining her work. “Better.”

  “Thank you,” the dragon rumbled under labored breaths.

  Once the class was over, they picked up their workout mats and put them on a stack near the edge of the deck. A sharp gust was blowing over the decorative railing only a few feet away from them, and Oscar instinctively shuffled backwards. The sun had risen over the snow-covered peaks of the eastern mountains and was pouring orange light over the valley, gradually burning away the morning chill. A soft layer of fog ran up and down the valley, like a river of cotton candy, soon topped with lofty golden peaks.

  “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” a melodic voice rumbled behind them.

  They turned around and were faced with an expansive body covered in red scales.

  “Oh, hi,” Oscar shrieked and puffed.

  Flynn bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

  “I always enjoy these morning sessions,” Ruby murmured with a soft smile tugging at her lips. “It’s like waking up with the sun itself.”

  A dreamy expression filled her green eyes as she let her gaze wander across the land.

  “Y— yes. Totally. I agree,” Oscar stuttered, hiccups shaking his upper body.

  The red dragon’s attention snapped back to him, and she puffed in amusement.

  “You are Oscar, right?” she asked with a gentle smile.

  “Me?”

  Flynn snorted involuntarily.

  “And you are Flynn?” Ruby added politely, her large head hovering over Flynn.

  “The one and only,” Flynn said and nodded.

  Ruby inclined her scarlet head, making her scales shimmer like … well, rubies.

  “Mira told me about the two of you.”

  Oscar started panting. “She did?”

  “Don’t worry, she only had good things to say,” Ruby added with a wink.

  “Oh yeah?” Flynn asked in disbelief, glancing at the receptionist. She was standing halfway across the deck, deep in discussion with a few overly enthusiastic course members.

  “You are in Ferdinand’s group, right?”

  When Oscar’s petrified face failed to react, Flynn gently nudged the large dragon.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, we are.”

  Flynn nudged a second time.

  “Is he a friend of yours?” Oscar added awkwardly.

  Ruby twirled her head gracefully. “You could say that, I guess.”

  “Did you guys meet over yoga?” Flynn asked when he couldn’t resist the urge.

  Ruby chuckled. “I’m not sure Mira would be satisfied with his form.”

  Oscar’s panicking mind was too slow to clue in on the joke. Instead, he started fidgeting with his wings.

  “Ferdinand reached out to me about our weekly picnic flights,” the crimson dragon elaborated. “I’m helping with the organization, and he is eager to join once … well.”

  “Picnic flights, hm?” Flynn asked and glanced at Oscar.

  The large dragon’s eyes widened with terror.

  Ruby cocked her head, her fuchsia cheeks glowing in the warm sunlight.

  “Of course, if you wanted to join us one of these days …”

  She gazed at Oscar with her green eyes, gesturing at the open skies with a wink of her wings.

  “What?” the blue dragon gasped.

  Ruby suddenly looked taken aback. “Oh, only if you want to, of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to impose.”

  “What?” Oscar repeated, his brain seemingly not functioning correctly anymore.

  “Excuse me?” Ruby asked in confusion, furrowing her horn bumps.

  When Flynn’s fingernails were close to peeling off from second-hand embarrassment, he decided to intervene.

  “Sorry, Ruby. Oscar is a bit shy.”

  As if to accentuate his words, Oscar wheezed an incomprehensible jumble of syllables.

  “Oh,” Ruby said and relaxed. “That’s okay.”

  She smiled at Oscar, whose color was well on its way to matching hers.

  “It also doesn’t help that he can’t fly,” Flynn added after a moment.

  Oscar yanked his head around and gave Flynn a mortified look.

  “Don’t,” the dragon hissed between gritted teeth, his voice trembling.

  Ruby seemed unfazed. “I see,” she said calmly. “That’s totally fine. A lot of flying creatures who come here struggle with that part of their identity.”

  “They do?” Flynn and Oscar asked in unison.

  The red dragon chuckled. “Oh yeah. It’s pretty common.”

  Oscar’s neck muscles seemed to relax slightly.

  “Our group often helps them relearn that skill,” Ruby continued. “It just takes a bit of practice, that’s all.”

  She gave Oscar an encouraging smile.

  “Thing is,” Flynn said quietly, “he’s never flown.”

  “Stop it!” Oscar growled and poked a claw at Flynn.

  He stepped back quick enough to avoid permanent damage to his stomach.

  “Oh, how exciting,” the red dragon exclaimed.

  Oscar’s perplexed eyes scurried from Flynn to Ruby and back.

  “Tell you what,” Ruby said eagerly. “If you want to, we can teach you. Flying is the best part about being a dragon — you really shouldn’t miss out on that.”

  Oscar opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out.

  “Perfect,” Flynn responded instead. “When do we start?”

  “I will never leave our room again,” Oscar declared, his face a mask of despair. “I shall remain here until the end of time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Flynn said while unlocking their door. “I’d say that went fabulous.”

  “I’ve never been so ashamed in my life,” the dragon whined.

  “That’s saying a lot coming …”

  Flynn’s words trailed off as he stepped into a pitch-black room.

  “What in the world?” he muttered, his hands aimlessly moving through the shroud of darkness weaving around his fingers.

  Oscar shrieked and came to a sudden stop, just shy of the doorstep.

  “I don’t want to go in there,” he growled, eyes wide.

  Flynn sighed. “RAIN?” he shouted into the void.

  A low sigh came from somewhere inside the prominent darkness.

  “What did you do, Rain?” Flynn demanded impatiently.

  “I installed curtains,” the unicorn murmured with his bone-chilling voice.

  Flynn clenched his jaw and rubbed his ears.

  “It’s the middle of the day,” he managed to say. “So, could you please open them?”

  It was not meant as a question.

  Another drawn-out sigh could be heard, followed by the scraping sound of sliding curtain rings. A cascade of light flooded the room, blinding Flynn to the point where he had to shield his eyes with his arm.

  “Thank you,” he muttered.

  “The sun is not good for my skin,” the unicorn said in response, his voice blocking the warmth of the sun from reaching Flynn’s soul.

  “If anything, you could use some vitamin D,” Flynn growled. “Maybe that would help with your mood.”

  The outline of the unicorn appeared against the harsh backdrop, glowing bright and cheerful. But then, there was his face, and that was anything but cheerful. His spiral horn was drooping pitifully, ears and hair greasy and limp.

  “There is nothing that could help me,” the unicorn said pensively, his eyes bottomless pits of despair.

  “Actually,” Oscar chimed in, “vitamin D is only built through direct exposure to sunlight. It doesn’t work if windows or glass are in the way.”

  Flynn opened his mouth in disbelief. “What?”

  The dragon bobbed his head to emphasize his point.

  “How do you even know that?”

  “I read about it.”

  “You—” Flynn began, but broke off.

  He sighed and shook his head. “What am I not surprised?

  Oscar and Flynn finally stepped inside and made their way to the less depressing part of the room, opposite the wall covered with Rain’s nihilistic paintings. They sat down on their beds and fell silent for a moment, both of them studying the assortment of black canvases.

  “Do you sell them?” Oscar asked after a moment.

  The unicorn followed his gaze. “No.”

  Flynn shuddered.

  “Why not?” the dragon inquired.

  “No one would buy them.”

  “Have you tried?”

  “No.”

  “I see,” the dragon murmured. “Are you going to?”

  “No.”

  “There are plenty of those weird art galleries displaying what goes for modern art these days,” Flynn commented, if only to get Rain’s voice out of his head. “I’m sure your … paintings … would blend right in.”

  The unicorn stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  “You think so?”

  Honestly, he didn’t, but he was past the point of no return now.

  “Sure,” Flynn said and shrugged. “Might as well give it a try.”

  They all regarded Rain’s artworks in quiet contemplation. There was really not much difference between the individual pieces, except for their size.

  Suddenly, the unicorn startled, then neighed, then dashed into his corner of the room. With impressive agility, he set up his scaffolding and pulled out an empty canvas from underneath his bed.

  “What now?” Flynn scoffed.

  The unicorn didn’t respond.

  “I think he got inspired,” Oscar said reverently.

  Flynn snorted. “By what? The other twenty black paintings?”

  For once, the unicorn was too busy to take offense.

  “He is expressing his feelings,” the dragon rumbled.

  Flynn took another look at the wall of black.

  “If those are his feelings, I hope he has a good therapist.”

  Rain’s paint-drenched brush squelched, and the unicorn started swinging his hooves.

  “How did he get that on there?” Oscar murmured in disbelief.

  Once again, the large brush was magically strapped to Rain’s front hooves.

  Flynn sighed in defeat. “I’ve stopped questioning certain things since we arrived here.”

  There was more he could’ve said or commented on, but he didn’t. At the end of the day, he didn’t want to get the unicorn even more depressed than he already was, if only to stop him from trying to turn their room into a cave.

  Also, on the off-chance that his art would actually sell, he wanted to stay on Rain’s good side — if such a thing even existed.