I grew up in a world where dragon riders were revered for not only their bravery and looks, but also for their intelligence. Children would spend days on end studying just in the hopes that they would get accepted to the Rider School, and those who did get accepted left their homes like kings, followed with respect and well wishes. It had been years since a dragon rider had been accepted in the Rider School from my town, which was understandable since we boasted a population of only 100 kids in the acceptable age range. Every year we were visited by the Counselor, the man who decided who would be accepted, and every year at that time our town lit up. Festivities lasted the Counselor's whole stay, with competitions to test children's intelligence, stamina, strength, and looks set up to look like games. Every year my brothers and I would be disappointed by our results, until my 15th year, when everything changed.... If you are reading this on a site other than Wattpad I did not consent for my work to be shown on that page and you are at risk for malware.

"Is this safe?" She whispered. He pulled her against him tightly. "I'll never let you go." He dipped his head to capture her lips, a few more beats of his powerful wings and they rose above the treetops. They turned slowly in the moonlight. Alasdair's world had been shrunk down into a small globe of silence. His only solace from the near madness the loneliness was driving him towards was to sleep and to dream. Isabelle had no idea what she held in her hands when she took an old battered book home with her. Placed in each other's path by hopeful hands they both wake to find a love neither were expecting to experience. Born of different worlds, destined for each other, driven by love, when the fate that put them together threatens to tear them apart he will find a way to exist in her world.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.