Sanctuary with a Dragon (Moonhaven World #2)

Chapter 1

Everly

Ilooked out the window of my apartment. Anchorage, Alaska, in the spring. It was snowing. Because, of course, it was.

Or maybe it was just… my life.

Widespread joint and muscle pain, brain fog so thick it felt like the city of Seattle had taken up residence in my head, breathlessness from walking down the hall, constant nausea, and food intolerances that shrank my list of safe foods each year—I had become mostly vegan, not because I didn’t crave a hamburger now and then, but because my stomach couldn’t handle meat anymore—insomnia that made every night a battle, and lungs that struggled to keep up.

The list went on, and each year felt heavier than the last.

There had been days I thought I should march into a hospital and refuse to leave until they figured everything out.

But I didn’t have the energy to fight. I worked from home as a website designer, and even that was a struggle some days.

The sad truth was that people like me—those too sick to fight—often fell through society’s cracks.

We were told we were perfectly healthy, that our tests were normal, that it was all in our heads, or that it was just part of aging.

I snorted. Healthy. Sure. That’s why I could barely stand long enough to shower. Because I was perfectly healthy.

Most of us had been gaslit into doubting ourselves. And the worst part? We had started to believe it. If it was just aging, then why did I get lapped by ninety-year-olds on the local college running track?

I rubbed my temples, finally letting the doctor’s words sink in. At least there were diagnoses this time—fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome. But there was no cure for either. Angry tears pricked my eyes, and I rubbed them away, clenching my jaw. I felt so… helpless.

Friends had drifted away over the years. When you can’t leave your house easily, isolation sets in. Invitations dry up. People stop calling. You feel like a burden.

I missed people.

I missed being active. Things like barbecues, spontaneous road trips, hiking, swimming.

.. all the things I used to do, and now couldn't. I missed life itself.

I felt trapped in a holding pattern while the world zoomed by, leaving me in my empty apartment, staring out the window—hungry for interaction and connection.

I took a deep breath, and then another. I could do this. I was a survivor. I was strong. Even so, the loneliness still pressed in, heavier since Gran passed. I missed her sassy, adventurous spirit, her sage wisdom, and the way she always knew how to make even the darkest days feel lighter.

I looked down at the kids playing two stories below, bundled up within an inch of their lives, laughing and shrieking as they chased each other across the still-green grass, heedless of the snowflakes gusting around them.

I smiled.

Children were proof that purity and goodness still existed.

I chuckled when a boy shouted at another for pushing his sister down.

“You tell ’em,” I whispered.

The boy who had pushed the little girl helped her up, and then they were off again, the incident forgotten, their laughter ringing out once more. Forgiveness—just like that. The world could learn a lot from kids.

I leaned back into my window seat, wrapping my lap blanket tighter around me, my spearmint tea steaming gently in my hands. The warmth seeped into my fingers, and my stomach rumbled, reminding me I needed to eat soon. I didn’t have the energy to cook, so I’d probably order something again.

A wave of familiar weight and darkness washed over me, settling into my bones. I thought I’d shaken this off for good last time, but here it was again.

Depression.

I gritted my teeth. No matter how hard I tried to improve my life, I just couldn’t seem to gain any traction—and I tried so hard.

My work was the only area where I felt even somewhat successful, though that was only because I set my own hours.

My clients knew I was a bit slow, yet they remained loyal, and word of mouth kept my business growing, even if only slowly.

It didn’t matter; I made enough to cover my bills, and that was all I needed.

I’d even saved enough to take a break from new clients for a few months, giving myself time to heal.

I’d done my best to keep going, but tomorrow marked a milestone birthday, and the strange feeling that my life was about to change hadn’t left me.

At first, I thought it was just wishful thinking, but the feeling kept returning.

And I began to wonder: what if everything I’d endured—the struggles, the isolation, the pain—had been preparing me for something I couldn’t yet see?

The thought made my heart flutter with fragile, desperate hope.

I glanced down at the kids below, gathering their things as the snow picked up.

Their laughter faded as they went inside, and I caught my own reflection in the glass.

Medium brown hair, blue eyes, Roman nose, peaches-and-cream complexion—only my hair was tangled instead of the smooth and straight it normally was, my eyes were red from crying, and my face was all blotchy.

I forced a smile at my reflection, but it was truly pitiful.

Two stars.

Normally, I didn’t indulge in wallowing. But a milestone birthday felt like a good enough excuse to me.

The doorbell rang, startling me. I set my tea down and checked the peephole.

A courier?

Had I ordered something and forgotten about it?

I opened the door, blinking at the older, balding man holding a thin, crisp envelope.

“Package for Miss Winters.”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Sign here, please.”

I signed, thanked him, and shut the door, examining the return address. It was from a law firm I’d never heard of. The envelope was lightweight, and it bore a real wax seal. Frowning, I carried it to my kitchen table, setting it down beside my now-lukewarm tea.

Inside was a handwritten note—from Gran.

My breath caught with overwhelming emotion, and I quickly unfolded it.

Dearest Everly,

I can only imagine your surprise upon receiving a letter from your deceased grandmother. I'm sorry for the shock, my dear, but I have a few things I need to share with you. If this letter has reached you, it means I wasn't able to tell you in person.

Consider this my plan B.

I sniffled and laughed. Gran and her backup plans—she was famous for them.

If you're anything like the other women in the Winters family, you're probably feeling a bit lost right now.

You may feel alone after my passing.

I'm sorry, my dear.

I'm so sorry.

But for one thing, you're not alone. I'm in heaven, it's true, but I'm still watching out for you, my only granddaughter. You are precious to me, no matter which side of the veil I'm on. I'm on your side, Everly. And so is your grandfather. We love you dearly.

And secondly? Well, brace yourself, dear one. Your life is about to change—dramatically.

First, I need to share a bit of Winters family history with you.

Several centuries ago, one of our ancestors saved the child of a famous warlock of that time.

She leaped into a river heavy with floating chunks of ice and managed to get the little girl to shore before the river pulled her away again.

The warlock came running at the sound of his child's screams, and after the child tearfully explained what had happened, he rushed to save our ancestor.

He did rescue her, but her health was never the same.

Her name was Miranda Winters. She developed pneumonia from the frigid water, and on her deathbed—after the warlock had done all he could—he promised a blessing of magic upon all Winter female descendants.

The blessing, in essence, is this: Every female descendant who has not found happiness, fulfillment, and joy by the time they reach forty years of age will have the magic placed upon our matriarchal line activated.

And the magic never seems to work the same way twice.

My grandmother was transported to another time, fell in love, and returned to ours. My mother was transformed into a cat and taken in by a lonely man. When the spell broke, boy, was he surprised!

I laughed and put my hands to my cheeks. Oh, that must have been a shock. That poor man.

The magic didn’t affect me at forty because I found Henry shortly after my twenty-first birthday.

One day, for no apparent reason, I was fired from a job I had held for years.

The only work available at the time was with Henry Caruthers—my hated nemesis.

He came from a prominent family, rich as the day is long.

Their family owned nearly everything in town.

I swallowed my pride, applied to their logging company to keep their books, was hired…

and the rest is history. Despite our rocky start, Henry and I fell in love.

Everly, I don’t know how the magic will change your life, but it will.

The change might seem difficult at first, but take heart—nothing truly good comes easily.

We fight for what matters most, and you—my dearest—are a fighter.

You may not see it, but I have. Whenever life got tough, whenever you faced heartache, whenever setbacks came, you rallied.

You've done so much good, dearest.

And I'm proud of you.

I reached for a box of tissues to blow my nose, crying freely now, then took a sip of my now-tepid tea to soothe my aching throat and turned the page.

The magic will take effect tonight at midnight. I recommend you try to sleep. Waiting grimly won’t help—maybe take a sleep aid if you need it.

I'm sure you're shocked that magic exists.

You might even think I've gone senile. But there is a whole world that humans know nothing about out there.

I couldn't even begin to explain all of the beings that humans have made stories about, which actually exist. It's all true—well, most of it.

But human stories differ a bit from the reality.

Let me just put it this way—vampires, shifters, fairies, pixies? They all exist. So do dragons.

Excited yet? I know I was when I found out.

I stared at the letter, horrified. No, Gran! That's not exciting. That's terrifying!

I love you, Everly. Always and forever. I hope the magic treats you kindly and that you receive something special for your fortieth birthday. I wish you a beautiful, wonderful, fulfilling life. I'm excited to see you again someday.

Grandad and I will be waiting for you.

All my love, Gran

I set the pages of the letter down and covered my face with my hands, unable to suppress a chuckle. Gran had always had a taste for adventure, while the most adventurous thing I’d ever done was camp out in her backyard when I was nine.

I’d only lasted half the night.

I was not, by nature, adventurous.

A sudden urge to fold the letter and place it in a ziplock bag struck me. Baffled, I did just that—folded it, slipped it into the bag, and left it on the kitchen table before ordering from the local Thai restaurant.

As I sat at my table eating, my eyes kept drifting to the letter, reflecting on Gran’s words.

A buzz of emotions thrummed beneath my skin: excitement, terror, anticipation, dread.

I had been right.

Change was coming.

I just prayed it would be a positive change.

After dinner was cleared and the kitchen tidied, I changed into pajamas, brushed my teeth, took something to help me sleep, and slipped between the cool sheets, piling my triple-thick comforter over me as I snuggled in.

Despite the turmoil churning within me, I did my best to follow Gran’s advice and try to sleep.

It seemed I would need to be well-rested for whatever tomorrow might bring.