Chapter One: Leap of Fate
The sun burned high over Queensland, casting a golden glare on the coastal town of Redwater Beach. The crowd gathered at the open-air festival was large, noisy, and eager, their eyes turned skyward where the afternoon sky shimmered a deep, endless blue. Children clutched melting popsicles, couples leaned into each other on picnic rugs, and aging veterans in RSL hats squinted through binoculars. A voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
“Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves! Straight from California—Australia’s own adopted daredevil—put your hands together for the sky queen herself... Mia Redding!”
Above the clouds, Mia knelt inside the cramped rear hatch of a humming twin-prop Cessna. She adjusted her goggles and glanced down past her boots at the carpet of green and turquoise below—flat sugarcane fields giving way to coral reefs. The altitude gauge ticked past 12,000 feet. She grinned.
“You sure about this?” asked Layla Palmer, her teammate and spotter, clinging to the frame with one hand.
“Always am,” Mia replied. “And besides, you packed the chute. If I die, it’s on you.”
Layla gave her a wink. “Well then, you’d better not miss your mark.”
Mia gave a thumbs-up, positioned herself at the edge, and leapt into the sky.
The wind howled past her ears like a banshee. Freefalling at terminal velocity, she arched her back and spun—spiraling once, twice—before straightening out and slicing through the wind like a javelin. She was a crimson streak in a wall of blue.
Below, the crowd erupted as Mia deployed her chute in a flourish of red and gold silk, slowing her descent just in time to curve into a sharp S-turn above the event stage. She floated down with precision, the air catching the parachute like a breath, and landed softly on a bright orange “X” painted on the grass.
A beat of silence—then roaring applause.
She stood, waved, and removed her helmet. Her sun-kissed blonde hair tumbled out as if by choreography. Flashes popped. Reporters pushed forward. Children squealed her name.
Behind her, Layla landed with slightly less flair, then trotted over to slap her shoulder.
“Another bullseye,” she said.
“Don’t act surprised,” Mia grinned. “I only miss when I want to.”
As the emcee began ushering them toward a tented podium for autographs, a man in a linen blazer and aviator sunglasses cut through the crowd with casual arrogance. He had the tan of a sailor, the posture of a soldier, and the calm grin of someone used to being obeyed.
“You’re Mia Redding?” he asked.
“Depends,” she said, unsnapping her harness. “Who’s asking?”
“Name’s Jesse Butler. Australian Defence Intelligence. Mind if we talk?”
Layla arched an eyebrow. “She’s got a signing line a mile long.”
“I’ll make it quick,” Jesse said. “It’s about a job.”
Mia scoffed. “Skydiving gigs don’t usually come from military spooks.”
“This one’s different,” he said, removing a leather case from under his arm. Inside was a worn photo of a dragon-shaped statue, no bigger than a melon. It was carved from green stone, its eyes flecked with ruby. The photo was stamped CLASSIFIED.
“You ever heard of the Fire Dragon?” he asked.
Mia looked at the photo, then up at Jesse’s serious eyes. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow.
“No,” she said slowly. “But I have a feeling you’re about to change that."
