Behind the Secret of the Naga's Fire

It was dusk when the first fireball burst from the Mekong. A glowing pink orb hovered over the chocolaty waters for a split second then accelerated noiselessly skyward, winking out some 100 meters above. Minutes later, another soared from the roiling river. Then some way downstream, a string of four burst into a bruised sky that was looking angrier by the moment. Each tiny eruption was greeted with a jubilant roar, like a kickboxing crowd hailing a series of withering knee strikes. The lights looked a bit like exploding flares, though there was no hiss or smoke, no sparkling arc back...

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