The Jasmine Dragon

in a land far, far away, the magic of the night bloomed, wild and free. The wind caressed the trees, the stars danced with the creatures below, and in the light of a silver moon, the wild goddess Jasmine first took form. With long, flowing hair of white and eyes as deep as the evergreen trees, she stepped out of the silver glow upon the valley. Her spirit was full of stars, her mind brimming with wonder. She entered existence as both a flower and woman.

By day, she rested in flower form, lulled to sleep by the golden rays of the sun. And as night fell upon the valley, so did her intoxicating aroma. Taking her woman form once more—bursting with the warmth of sweet daydreams—her fragrant magic filled the valley as she climbed every tree and scaled every surrounding mountain, glittering under the night sky. She bathed in moonlight, sending her essence down shimmering streams.

All were drawn to her radiance. Travelers from far and wide came to settle in the sweet-smelling valley. Yet her wild heart kept her far from town and village—forever hidden within the folds of the night.

Most had never laid eyes on the goddess, but stories of her hypnotic gaze and fleeting passions ran rampant throughout the land. She was delicate, yet powerful. Passive, yet forceful.

All had heard the tale of the lone traveler who stumbled upon Jasmine and Mother Nature as they tended to the flower witch, Alethea. Alethea had been broken by a wicked man and later found by Nature herself. In a humble request, Nature called upon Jasmine to share her floral magic—enough to grant the witch immortal life. Jasmine agreed, but under one condition: that she be allowed to hunt down the man who had caused such pain.

Mother Nature, without hesitation, encouraged the young goddess to do so.

Just after Jasmine had handed a small portion of her power to Nature, the traveler made the mistake of shifting their weight—snapping a branch under foot. Jasmine turned toward the tree where they hid and locked eyes with the unlucky witness. Her seductive green gaze became overwhelming, and free will vanished from the traveler. As an unwilling pawn, they were swept into the hunt that led to the wicked man’s demise.

No one knows what truly happened on that journey—only that the traveler was forbidden to speak of it, and that Jasmine gifted her puppet a love elixir thereafter. Though the potion was accepted with gratitude, the traveler was never seen near the valley again.

Women worshiped Jasmine.
Men feared her.
All saw the goddess as the queen of the valley.

Until, after many centuries of dancing through the night alone, Jasmine fell in love.

It happened suddenly, when a woman ran into her arms one summer’s day and, to Jasmine’s surprise and mild discomfort, never left her side. The woman carried a fire within her—steady and pure—and Jasmine’s delicate, flowered soul felt more alive than she had ever dreamed possible.

Soon after that first encounter, Jasmine welcomed her presence and treated her with the highest regard. The gentle touch of a woman was a welcome feeling after so many long nights.Their love was grand and bright. Romance filled the valley, and Jasmine’s fragrance had never been stronger.

But one day, the woman’s fire turned wild as she begged Jasmine for immortality.

When Jasmine refused, the woman—mad with jealousy of the goddess’s power and drunk with lust for eternity—set fire to many pines of the forest.

Jasmine returned the act in kind by seducing the woman into the rushing river.

The goddess had never understood human pain, and had never thought twice about ridding the realm of the wicked. But as she watched her beloved trees turn to ash, and the woman thrash against the rocks, a darkness crept inside her—tunneling deeper and deeper.

The night, which had once felt enchanted and vast, became lonely and cold.

Decades passed and rumors spread:
Warning that if you got too close to the goddess, lust and yearning would consume you—breeding chaos into your spirit.

And while the land grew more populated, the wild moon goddess began to fade. With each passing moon, her aroma weakened.

Once a queen, now a feared local legend.

The trees she once climbed seemed impossibly tall. The mountains, too far.

Night after night, she lay by the river, staring at the rocks.

Alethea would visit Jasmine from time to time. The witch had become not only her dear immortal sister but one of the most renowned healers in all the land.

Jasmine loved to sit in stillness, watching Alethea mix potions and brew her teas. The witch’s hands moved as gently as a mother’s, and without fail, Alethea always knew how to warm the goddess’s cold heart.

Though the witch’s ever-knowing spirit would hold the goddess before vanishing into the night. Jasmine broke a little more each time Alethea parted.

One evening, before departing, Alethea cupped Jasmine’s face with steady hands and looked her directly in the eyes—something no other dared to do. Jasmine wished more would.

“You are more than passion and fragrance, Jasmine,” Alethea said softly. “You are uplifting, and your essence is more healing than you know.”

Jasmine closed her eyes, shying away from the violet gaze and words that pierced her heart.

“How am I supposed to know what to do?” she whispered as her moonlit hand reached up to meet the witch’s, “The dark is becoming a maddening place to thrive…”

Alethea pulled her into a warm embrace and pressed a kiss to Jasmine’s forehead.

“Sometimes to solve your own problems, it is best to help someone else with theirs. Before I return in ten days’ time, please help me by gathering some green leaves from atop the shining mountain of Pleonexia.”

And with that, Jasmine felt Alethea’s warmth fade into the night.

When she opened her eyes, she was staring into the dark, cold forest…alone once more.

She set out just hours later, deciding she wouldn’t be missed in the valley anyway. She headed west, caught in a trance of her own making. Visions of fire and the sound of snapping bones filled her soul—until she arrived at the edge of Pleonexia.

She only realized how far she had wandered from her beloved valley when the sun rose over the treetops. Yet this sunlight felt different. Her essence had not faded as it usually did during the day.

Jasmine found it strange, but didn’t mind.

Looking around the unfamiliar forest, she begrudgingly climbed the nearest pine… only to have her breath stolen as she reached the top and gazed across the land—brimming with wild, colorful magic.

She had heard stories of this place—how it was once ruled by dragons of greed.
War and division infected the land for centuries... until a thief of green sparked a quiet rebellion.

Now, ancient magic resided here. Magic that had shifted the climate, forcing the dragons to seek a new kingdom to taunt. That power radiated from every tree and leaf, and there were more spirits roaming here than Jasmine had ever seen.

She lay across a pine branch, gazing up at the sky, relishing the scent of needles all around her. It was a rare moment—to feel the sun while in woman form.

She thought fondly of the day Alethea had told her that story. Jasmine had been beside the river in woman form for days, silent and still, when Alethea had scooched her legs beneath Jasmine’s head and gently stroked her hair. Jasmine had drifted into sleep just moments after Alethea finished speaking—and for the first time in ages, she had slept through the day as scattered petals.

Jasmine’s heart fluttered at the memory of such unconditional love. Alethea never ceased to offer it. From climbing trees together to simply holding her in the dirt, Alethea was kind because she chose to be—because she wanted to offer something gentle to the world.

The floral witch would always be worthy of the gift of immortality.

Jasmine breathed in deeply, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she realized: her fragrance had been slowly growing stronger the longer she relaxed into the trees.

Though it was late summer, whatever enchantment protected this place had softened the sun—giving it the feel of early spring. The air was crisp, the green vibrant and new. With every breath, solace streamed through her core.

She made her way through the trees, and when she spotted the mountain Alethea had spoken of, her eyes went wild. She had never seen a mountain like this—where the sun seemed to shine its brightest, and vivid patches of green wove between winding streams along the rocky face.

Upon reaching the base of the mountain, Jasmine turned to flowers almost instantly, resting there with newfound enthusiasm for climbing the glittering peaks by moonlight.

As night fell over the land, so did Jasmine—rolling through the dirt as if she had never touched the earth before. She felt every blade of grass beneath her feet as she danced her way up the mountain, singing with the breeze, splashing in the streams.

She felt alive once more—an all-encompassing sense of renewal blooming within her. A rediscovery of self.

She, too, needed to taste her own sweet and healing essence.
And she silently cursed the witch for always knowing that.

She reached the summit by dawn, where the green leaves shimmered with morning dew. The mountaintop felt alive and warm, humming with quiet magic.

She turned to take in the glorious view from the peak, and released everything she had been holding for so long.

Tears streamed down her face, and a mad, radiant smile broke across her lips as she screamed—sending all the darkness she carried into the wind.

She was alive.
And she would thrive.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted him—a man with a red dragon twisting around his form.

Small dragons sometimes chose to merge with a willing human, becoming one so that both might thrive in different ways. The man gained the ability to wield fire, while the dragon could aspire to more than a well-guarded hoard and survive in colder climates. These bonds were typically formed with travelers or healers, those who could care for dragons that might not otherwise endure.

Eventually, the dragon would disappear fully into the human’s body.
This meant the bond had only just been made.

Jasmine turned to face the man, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks and standing as tall as she could.

Man and goddess gazed into each other’s eyes.

To her surprise, he did not run in fear. He did not mock her, nor did he try to comfort her.
He simply let her feel, and did not flinch beneath her gaze.

After a stunned moment, Jasmine silently commanded him to speak.
He did not obey.

A few long seconds passed in silence—an odd, almost enchanted tension between them.

Then, with a smirk, he said, “I’m speaking with you because I want to… not because you told me to.”

Jasmine was too stunned—and a little embarrassed—to respond.

“My name is Roe,” he continued, his voice soft, beautifully kind. “And this is Shaw,” he added, nodding toward the dragon now twisting rapidly into his abdomen.

“Shaw and I have struck a deal—to keep us both safe. And I would very much appreciate it if we could keep this between us.”

Still dumbfounded, Jasmine finally found her words.

“Yes, of course,” she said with a nod, her brow furrowed and her eyes still swollen from tears.

“And you’re Jasmine. Legend of your radiance and invigorating essence precedes you, goddess,” he said, offering a sincere bow of his head.

Again dumbfounded—and now a bit ashamed for not having introduced herself—she let out a nervous laugh and finally said,

“Please, no… I am more flower than goddess. A goddess has songs written in her name. I prefer the river’s company over most of my immortal kin. To many, I’m little more than a myth.”

Roe simply nodded with a smile.

The flutter in her stomach at the sight made her feel slightly dizzy… yet it was, somehow, the most enjoyable sensation she had felt in ages.

He closed his eyes and rested a strong hand over his stomach, where the lower half of Shaw had just disappeared.

Then, glancing kindly into her evergreen eyes, he gestured toward something she hadn’t noticed before—an ornate tea set nestled between them.

With a gentle voice, he said,

“Would you join me for tea? My leaves have a reputation for bringing clarity to those unsure of their way.”

“Yes,” she replied—too quickly. “If I may also add my flowers to the pot.”

Roe tilted his chin to the sky and laughed—a sound that would no doubt dance through her daydreams and she felt the heat rush to her face as Roe responded,

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The goddess couldn’t help but watch as he moved and his warm breath of flame ignited the wood. Fire blooming to life beneath his touch. Everything else faded away as his warmth reached into her soul, gently caressing her delicate heart.

She slowly moved to sit on the earth, willingly hypnotized by his spirit—so fierce and yet so gentle. Roe’s fire was pure.

She wanted to remember every detail of this moment: the way his strong hands softened as they stroked her white petals and his green leaves. The way his breath grew fuller, more alive, as Shaw settled fully into his spirit.

They both watched in silence as glowing flowers and dizzy leaves swirled together in the beautiful pot.

A sweet aroma rose as the golden liquid poured into the cup, luminous and fragrant.

Roe moved to where Jasmine sat, pressing the cup into her glittering hands.

“For you, flower,” he said softly.

Jasmine looked down into the cup.
The tea was perfect, her magic unburdened by his flame.
Green leaf and moon flower: strong yet soft.

The scent filled her spirit, and as she looked back into Roe’s fiery gaze, his body now just a breath away, her smile turned feral.

Her passion was once again—ignited.

the brew was named The Jasmine Dragon.

A sacred concoction brewed for those in need of uplifting enchantment.
Laced with passion, fragrance, and grounding earth magic, it ignites your fire once more, banishing the meddling dark.

In the light of the moon, we are reminded:

For every delicate flower, there is the perfect flame.
And it is never too late for release… and new beginnings.

Until the next story unfolds,

Yours in tea & tale,

Lauren of Faerie Good

P.S. Did you catch all of the ‘Avatar The Last Airbender’ easter eggs ? (;