Chapter 3

"I'm sorry, sir, we only serve what's listed on our menu board," she recited, just as Tomas had instructed.

The man—Xaihuang, according to the business card he suddenly produced—leaned on his cane and studied her with keen interest. "Of course, of course. How foolish of me." His fingers drummed against the carved handle of his cane, a rhythmic tapping that somehow reminded Casey of coins dropping. "Perhaps instead you could tell me about your... writing projects? I understand you're working on something quite ambitious. Dragons, is it?"

Casey's hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the counter. "How does everyone suddenly know about my book?"

Xaihuang's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp. "Word travels quickly in certain circles, my dear. Especially when someone writes with such... authenticity about subjects they shouldn't understand." He paused, tilting his head. "Tell me, where do your ideas come from? Your descriptions of elemental magic are remarkably accurate for fiction."

"I just... I have a good imagination," Casey stammered, though even as she said it, she wondered if that was true. Lately, the scenes in her novel felt less like imagination and more like half-remembered dreams.

"Imagination," Xaihuang repeated thoughtfully. "Yes, that's what they all say at first." He tapped his cane once more against the floor, and Casey could have sworn she heard something metallic chime inside it. "Well, enjoy your shift, Miss Ember-Brooks. Though I suspect your quiet life is about to become much more... interesting."

He turned and walked away without ordering anything, leaving Casey alone with the scent of something like old copper and the growing certainty that her world was about to change forever.

The rest of her shift crawled by in a haze of nervous energy and mounting questions. Every customer seemed to be watching her. Every reflection in the metallic burger boxes seemed to shift when she wasn't looking directly at them. And through it all, the fountain's dual streams called to her with an insistence she couldn't explain.

At 3:58 PM, Casey clocked out with shaking hands.

Her phone buzzed with a news item:

New Crypto just released called DragonCoin now taking the world by storm only been out for less then an hour and people can’t get enough of it.

Casey stared at her phone, a chill running down her spine. DragonCoin? Today of all days? She clicked the notification, scanning the article with growing unease.

"...revolutionary blockchain technology utilizing a unique dual-verification system... founder remains anonymous... unprecedented adoption rate... distinctive logo features interlocking geometric patterns reminiscent of ancient currency..."

The accompanying image made her breath catch—the DragonCoin logo was nearly identical to the patterns from her dreams, the same designs etched into those spinning golden discs that had haunted her sleep for months.

"This is insane," she whispered, pocketing her phone with trembling fingers.

The food court had filled with the late afternoon crowd, shoppers and office workers mingling in the artificial ecosystem of commerce and consumption. Casey wove between tables, her uniform still smelling of fryer oil as she approached the Dual-Flow Fountain.

Marcus Chen was already waiting, standing perfectly still amidst the chaos of movement. He didn't turn as she approached, yet somehow she knew he was aware of her presence.

"You came," he said, eyes fixed on the intertwining streams of water. "I wasn't certain you would."

"Well, when strangers start knowing things about my dreams and my writing that I've never told anyone, curiosity tends to win out over common sense." Casey crossed her arms, trying to project confidence she didn't feel. "So, what is this? Some elaborate prank? Are you with the cryptocurrency people?"

Marcus finally turned, those dark-gold eyes studying her face. "No prank, Ms. Ember-Brooks. And I'm not with the DragonCoin developers, though their timing is... concerning."

"Concerning how? And you still haven't explained how you know about my dreams."

"The dreams found you because of what you are," he said simply. "As for DragonCoin—" He gestured toward the fountain. "Notice how these waters never truly mix? Cold and hot, flowing together yet separate? That's the balance we've maintained for centuries. But now—"

"We? Who's 'we'?" Casey interrupted.

A slight smile touched Marcus's lips. "You already know. You've been writing about us."

Casey felt light-headed suddenly, the noise of the food court receding as pieces began clicking into place. "Dragons," she whispered. "You're saying dragons are real."

"As real as you are." Marcus glanced at his wrist, at what Casey now realized wasn't a watch but some kind of sleek device embedded in his scales. "And I believe we're about to have company."

The tapping came first—that distinctive rhythm of Xaihuang's cane against the polished floor. Casey turned to see the older man approaching, his expression pleasant but his eyes calculating.

"Mr. Chen," Xaihuang nodded coolly. "I see you've made your move. Rather direct, isn't it? The Council might not approve."

"The Council hasn't approved of much lately,” Marcus stated flatly, “especially when one of the dormant bloodlines starts randomly writing about our kind to true for human consumption even if they believe it to be fiction, the crypto DragonCoin drop something is going on, I just hope that our physical dragon coins don’t start loosing their power to conceal our true nature from the everyday person.”

Xaihuang's laugh was soft but sharp, like metal scraping stone. "Ah yes, the great Marcus Chen, ever the traditionalist despite his modern affectations." He turned to Casey, his bronze eyes glittering. "Has he told you what you are yet, my dear? Or is he still playing the mysterious protector?"

Casey looked between them, her heart hammering. "What I am? I'm a fast food worker who writes fantasy novels in her spare time. That's it."

"Is it?" Xaihuang leaned on his cane, and Casey heard that metallic chiming again from within the carved handle. "Tell me, when did the dreams start? The golden coins, the fire that doesn't burn, the sense that you're missing something vital?"