To Cook for the Dragon
The moon hung low and full over Hanoi as Jamela, Hank, and Kavin made their way to Tran Quoc Pagoda. The ancient Buddhist temple, perched on a small island in West Lake, was hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight, its towering red brick pagoda reaching towards the starry sky.
"Well, this is appropriately atmospheric," Hank muttered, eyeing the mist rolling off the lake. "Anyone else feel like we're walking into a culinary horror movie?"
Kavin chuckled, his perfect hair somehow still immaculate despite the humidity. "Come now, Hank. Where's your sense of adventure?"
As they approached the pagoda, the air seemed to shimmer, and suddenly, the dragon from Hoan Kiem Lake materialized before them, its scales gleaming in the moonlight.
"Ah, you've arrived," the dragon rumbled, its voice like distant thunder. "Are you prepared for your trial of culinary prowess?"
Jamela stepped forward, her chin lifted in determination. "We are. What exactly do we need to do?"