Page 1 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
CHAPTER 1
Mina
The guys have decidedI should test out of the regular academy courses for my safety. A “brilliant idea,” they called it. The only problem? The second-year instructors have to agree. Most of them were fine with it—except Kai and Finlay, which means I’m stuck with science and royal protocol. Not surprising, really. I’d refused to give up my art class, though. It’s the one place I can breathe, the only time I can relax and just enjoy something without the weight of everything pressing down on me.
“Mina, perfect score on both the math and literature tests, so you’re free of those,” Callan announces, placing the returned graded tests on the table in front of me. He looks proud, like it’s his victory, too.
Abraxis strides in right after, dropping a stack of sealed envelopes onto the table. “You passed politics, but Finlay and Kai still refuse to let you test out. Lysander and I went to talk to them ourselves.” He exhales sharply, frustrationclear as he steps aside.
The door opens again, and the headmaster walks into our new, larger suite at Malivore. His presence is commanding, as always.
“I’ve created a class specifically for you,” Lysander says, leaning against the back of the couch. “It’s structured to let us study and research the cursed eggs without drawing suspicion.”
I glance at him, tilting my head. “How does that work with the rest of the schedule?”
“We needed to fill the morning hours,” Callan explains, coming closer, “so that Abraxis and I can teach our first- and fourth-year classes without overlapping with you. This way, everything fits.”
“What about Vaughn?” My eyes flick to my third mate, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet. He’s leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over the room like he’s piecing together a puzzle.
“I don’t want to test out of the classes,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. His tone is gentle, but there’s a weight to his words. “I actually need them. I’ll be in my uncle’s art class with you, and I’ll take Art of War with Callan.”
His honesty makes me smile faintly. Vaughn’s always been different, steady in a way the others aren’t. While they’re plotting and maneuvering, he grounds us, the one thread that keeps everything from unraveling. I glance at the others, each of them a mix of pride, frustration, and determination, and for a brief moment, the chaos doesn’t feel so overwhelming.
“When’s the gauntlet?” I ask, the words cutting through the hum of tension in the room. The second-year gauntlet is infamous—brutal, unrelenting, designed to cull the weak from the academy. Harder than the first year’s trial. It doesn’t just test us—it breaksus.
“Tomorrow,” Abraxis answers, his gaze drifting past me to the balcony over my left shoulder. His jaw tightens, and I know that look in his eyes too well. He’s already plotting, probably fantasizing about whisking me away from campus to some place he deems safe. Someplace far from the dangers that are closing in around us.
“Is shifting allowed?” I ask, turning to Lysander. My voice is steady, but I’m already bracing for his response.
“Partial is always allowed for this gauntlet,” he replies calmly, his tone steady.
I manage a small smile in his direction before letting my gaze slide to Callan. “When’s your gauntlet?” I ask him, watching as a flicker of discomfort crosses his face. His shoulders stiffen, and I can almost feel the weight of his dread.
“Wait, I have to run the gauntlet again for Shadowcarve?” Vaughn’s voice cuts in as he steps closer to us, his expression sharp with surprise.
“The day after the first,” Callan says, his voice calm but clipped. “And yes, you have to run it again. Partial shifting allowed. It’s why we told you to wait until this year to do it.”
“Great,” Vaughn mutters before collapsing onto the couch, throwing an arm over his face like it’s the only way to block out the impending nightmare.
I smirk faintly, leaning back against the wall. “The gauntlets here are way easier than the one my father made me run. You all got to see it.” A soft laugh escapes my lips as I adjust the egg carrier on my chest. The soft hum of Klauth’s egg settling something in me.
The silence that follows my words feels heavy. My father’s gauntlet wasn’t just a test; it was a death sentence with a pulse. If Hell had ablueprint, it was his creation, designed to break even the strongest. Compared to that, this academy’s trials might as well be a leisurely stroll through a garden.
“That’s a terrifying thought,” Abraxis murmurs, his voice low, laced with something close to awe. He steps forward, closing the distance between us, and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. For a moment, the world feels quiet, though the storm still looms just beyond.
I melt into Abraxis’s hold, letting his warmth seep into me as I close my eyes. His scent fills my senses—smoke, earth, and something uniquely him. Slowly, I press the bridge of my nose against the underside of his jaw, seeking solace in his presence. Without a word, he wraps me in his wings, cocooning me from the world. He always knows when the weight of everything is about to crush me.
“Early bedtime for Vaughn and Mina,” Abraxis rumbles, his deep voice vibrating through his chest. “They need to be well-rested for the gauntlet tomorrow.”
“They need to eat good tonight too,” Balor chimes in. His voice pulls my attention, and I peek out from between Abraxis’s wings.
“Are you cooking, B?” I arch a brow at him, letting a small pout play on my lips.
He leans casually against the counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sure, what do you want?”
I pretend to think for a moment before sighing, settling back against Abraxis’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding me. “Ribs? Or chicken? Or both—whichever is easier for you.”
“I’ll surprise you,” Balor says, and I hear him rummage in the kitchen. The clink of pans and soft thud of cabinets opening fills the space, a soothing rhythm of its own.
