Page 54 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
I shift into my gryphon form, my feathers ruffling as the change completes, and settles on the rough, uneven ground. The grittytexture of dirt and stone presses against my talons as I wait for Vaughn to help adjust Mina under my wing.
When she’s finally tucked against my side, Vaughn, and Ziggy return, the crunch of their boots against stone accompanied by the aroma of freshly cooked food. Ziggy carries a tray, steam curling from bowls of porridge and fresh bread, but my attention locks onto the basin of fish. The rich, salty scent of them makes my beak twitch.
“I’m going to toss the fish to you, Callan,” Ziggy says, gripping one by its slippery tail.
I dip my beak in response, the smooth curve glinting faintly in the dim torchlight. He tosses the fish with a flick of his wrist, and I catch it midair. The fish’s cool, slimy texture slides easily down my throat as I crunch it with two quick bites, savoring the burst of flavor. Carefully, I motion with a wing for the basin to be set before me.
“I think Callan wants to feed himself,” Vaughn says, pushing the basin toward me with a scrape that echoes in the chamber.
“Probably for the best. My aim isn’t always solid,” Ziggy admits, glancing uneasily down the tunnel. His eerie green eyes glimmer in the low light as he gestures to the cramped space around us. “I hate this. It doesn’t feel safe enough.”
The feathers on the back of my neck bristle at his words, a cold prickle running down my spine as I instinctively scan the chamber. Vaughn places a steadying hand on Ziggy’s shoulder, his fingers tightening in reassurance.
“We have two dragons in the main chamber ready to torch anything that gets too close. Plus, you can get us out of here before anything can happen,” Vaughn says, his tone calm but firm.
Ziggy exhales sharply, his chest rising and falling as he tries to relax. “You’re right,” he mutters, though his restless gaze keeps darting toward the shadowy hallway. He looks down at the sandwich in his hand, picking at the crust absentmindedly, as though the answer to all his worries might be hidden within. “Two more days,” he murmurs.
“I just hope we don’t get attacked at the end this time,” Vaughn says, his voice heavy with frustration.
I snap my head toward him, fixing him with a sharp glare from my good eye. The amber gleam of it catches in the torchlight, and Vaughn raises a hand in mock surrender.
“Not getting attacked would be ideal,” Ziggy says, breaking the tension as he steps closer. He brushes his fingers against my wing, the contact light but insistent, drawing my attention. “Callan, lift your wing for a second. Vaughn, her arm needs adjusting—and her leg too, so she doesn’t bruise.”
I shift carefully, lifting my wing with a faint rustle of feathers. Vaughn crouches beside Mina, his hands sure and steady as he makes the adjustments.
Once she’s positioned safely, I press the smooth, curved top of my beak to her forehead, a soft whistling sound escaping me—a soothing sound only gryphons use for their own. The faint floral scent of her hair mingles with the musty earthiness of the chamber.
Lowering my wing, I settle around her and the eggs, curling protectively as I feel the steady warmth of her body beneath me. Sixty more hours. Just sixty more hours, and this will be over for the year. Then, of course, comes the next challenge: the attack and Klauth hatching to save Mina.
No pressure, right? Said no gryphon ever.
CHAPTER 33
Mina
A deep,rhythmic purring fills my ears, the sound rolling through me like a gentle tide. It’s soothing, familiar, like curling up with my mother’s winged tressym, Remi. His soft, feathered wings and mischievous meows always comforted me, a solace after long, chaotic days. Sweet Remi—always flitting off on wild adventures, returning as though he hadn’t just left us worrying. I can almost feel the brush of his feathers against my skin as I burrow deeper into the warmth surrounding me.
The chamber smells faintly of oil and smoke from the lanterns hanging on the walls. Their soft glow casting shifting shadows that dance across the stone. It’s cozy and intimate, the kind of place where I should feel safe. My fingers instinctively stroke the dense, soft fur beneath them, and a quiet sigh escapes my lips as I rub my cheek against the warm mass.
But Remi isn’t this big.
I freeze. My pulse quickens as my thoughts catch up with my senses. One eye slowly opens, then the other. Jet-black fur fills my vision, itssleek surface gleaming faintly in the flickering lantern light. The rich, musky scent that clings to it is entirely different from the faint lavender oil my mother used to brush into Remi’s coat.
“Hey, Zig…” I mumble, my voice groggy as I piece things together. My limbs are heavy with sleep, and the warmth radiating from him tempts me to close my eyes again. I yawn, snuggling closer despite the growing unease curling in my chest.
“Mina?” Vox’s gravelly voice comes from behind me, sharp enough to cut through my haze of sleep.
I roll over, wincing as the shift pulls at stiff muscles. Vox crouches nearby, his shadow cast long and uneven on the chamber wall.
“Yeah?” My voice cracks, another yawn slipping out as I fight to wake fully.
“Abraxis and Callan were called to the front lines again for another skirmish.” Vox leans closer, his fingers brushing my hair back to expose the faint scales near my neck. His touch is cool against my overheated skin, and the contact sends a faint shiver down my spine.
“It’s over,” he says quietly, though his tense shoulders betray his attempt at calm. “You gave us one hell of a scare.”
Ziggy’s tentacles, silken and strong, curl around me, lifting me gently into a seated position. The motion is seamless, but my head swims as I rise.
“Why? What happened?” I murmur, blinking as my gaze drifts around the chamber. The warm light of the lanterns flickers across faces and bodies, illuminating fresh scars crisscrossing Vox’s arms and Balor’s chest and arm.
