Page 5 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
Mina
Callan wasn’t exaggeratingwhen he said this year’s gauntlet is bigger. The massive structure looms ahead of us, its towering form shaped like a sprawling X. I squint at the sharp angles and shadowed recesses, trying to make sense of it. “How does it work?”
As we approach, Callan gestures to a heavy door at the base. “You go in there and take the lift to the top floor. At the top, you’ll have four directions to choose from.” He exhales deeply, his jaw tightening. “Then you fight your way down to one of the exits.” He points to the visible bases of the two descending arms of the X.
“There’s a catch,” Vaughn mutters, eyes narrowing as he watches a student disappear through the entry. His tension pulls at the tether between us, faint but unmistakable.
“Several,” Callan confirms flatly. “Live dangers, spells, and traps. Plus, moving floors and walls.” He rattles off the list of hazards like he’s reciting from a manual, no emotion in his voice.
Anipe sits at the registration table, scrawling names onto her ledger and handing out draw tickets. Her icy gaze flicks up when I approach. I let a polite smile touch my lips. “Willamina Havock.”
Her quill pauses mid-stroke, and she does a double take before nodding slowly. “It’s unusual for a female to forgo her family name.” Her tone is neutral, but her words twist something bitter inside me.
“Neither is it prudent to carry the name of an abusive male.” My voice hardens, and I suppress the urge to snarl. Just saying the word “father” in my mind sets my blood boiling. “His name dies with him.”
Anipe’s lips twitch, perhaps an attempt at understanding, but she says nothing more. “As last year’s winner, you can enter whenever you’re ready.” She hands me a golden ticket, the weight of it familiar in my palm. Without another word, I turn and walk away, leaving Callan and Vaughn to sort themselves out. I need time to study this monstrosity.
As I make my way toward the gauntlet, Leander sidles up beside me. His easy grin and relaxed gait are a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in my chest. “Weighing your options?” he asks, bumping his shoulder lightly against mine.
“Something like that,” I reply, scanning the mechanical behemoth. A series of clicks and whirrs echoes through the air, the sound of shifting parts within. “Where’s Abraxis?” I can feel him—his tether pulling faintly, strong and deliberate—somewhere inside the labyrinth.
“Wing three,” Leander answers smoothly. “He’s one of the obstacles on that path. If you take it.” His grin widens like he knows he’s letting slip something critical.
I stop, turning to face him. “Good to know.” The edge in my tone isn’t lost on him. His grin falters just slightly, but I’m already moving again.
Climbing up onto one of the low walls overlooking the gauntlet, I perch myself like a hawk surveying prey. My eyes trace the lines of the structure, and I tune out the distant buzz of students and spectators. The whirring and clacking inside the gauntlet draws my focus. I close my eyes, my breath steadying, and try to summon a vision—anything that might give me an edge.
This isn’t just about winning. It’s survival. And I don’t plan to lose. Several visions flash through my mind like a reel of chaotic memories, each one sharper than the last. One loops over and over, etching itself into my thoughts—the female ambush drake from my earlier vision, her scales glinting with a dull menace. She’s in the first wing of the gauntlet. The same ambush drake that stole the black dragon egg. If I can defeat her—or kill her—the path to reclaiming the egg will be far less treacherous. Everyone knows a female guarding an egg fights with unmatched fury. But she’s not on her nest, which means that searing, protective rage isn’t clouding her instincts. That gives me an edge.
I leap down from the wall, holding up my golden ticket so Lysander can see I’m next. His voice falters mid-announcement as his eyes meet mine. He nods, but his hesitation is palpable. “Are you sure?” Callan’s voice cuts through the air as he runs up, blocking my path.
Without answering, I pull him into a tight hug, pressing my lips to his in a brief but fervent kiss. As I draw back, I cup one hand over my mouth, shielding my words from prying eyes and ears. “The female that stole the egg is in the first wing,” I whisper. “I’m going to kill her before she hunts me down instead.”
I smile, a hint of feral determination curling my lips, and wink at him. Before he can argue, I turn and stride toward the door, each step a vow. The heavy door groans as I push it open, the shadows beyond swallowing me whole.
Today will not be a good day to die…
The dim light in the lift flickers as it groans upward, casting erratic shadows that make the enclosed space feel smaller. The damp air clings to my skin, sending a cold, crawling sensation down my spine. I focus inward, shifting the delicate scales beneath my armor to cover my vital organs, wrapping them like a second skin around my throat and neck. The lift halts with a jarring clang, and when the doors scrape open, Balor is standing there, his arms crossed, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of me.
“You’re earlier than we expected,” he says, voice low and threaded with concern.
“I’m going hunting,” I reply, tugging my hood back and adjusting the mask over my face until it fits just right.
“Same as last time,” he warns, the only caution he’s permitted to give me. His hand gestures toward the numbered doors lining the corridor. “Which path are you choosing?”
I don’t hesitate. Without a word, I stride to the first door, shove it open, and drop into the black void beyond. The air shifts as I descend, my vision shifting seamlessly into my dragon’s sight. The pit is oppressive, shadows swallowing the edges of the space, but theglowing aura of danger ahead sharpens my focus. Scanning the room, I note missing floor panels and steel bars crisscrossing at varying heights and distances. The bars glimmer faintly, warning me of heat or current.
Drawing a leather strap from my belt, I snap it against one of the bars. It hisses and blackens instantly. Heated and electrified. Good. That means they’re not making this easy.
Crouching, I study the floorboards. Some edges are slightly raised, others just a fraction darker—traps for the unwary. I step carefully, testing each foothold, weaving a path across the hallway. When I reach the other side, I pause, heart pounding.
Too easy.
A flicker of movement to my left triggers my instincts. I duck just as a blade whistles through the air where my head had been. The attack is too close to be random. My lips curl into a grin beneath my mask.
This is going to be fun.
The walls are smooth, but that’s no challenge for me. Flexing my talons, I dig into the surface, climbing with practiced ease. My feet and hands find purchase on opposite sides of the corridor as I press my body against the walls, spider-walking high above the ground. The corridor stretches ahead, littered with traps below, but none of them touch me here. I move sideways, quiet and calculating, every muscle coiled for the next strike.
