Page 6 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
Another door looms before me, but it’s not alone. Above the frame, an opening gapes like a silent warning. I stay perched, hands and feet braced against the rough stone walls, keeping my body suspended off the ground. My gaze flicks to the hole above the door.
Through it, I see her. The female ambush drake, her sleek black form pacing, her movements predatory and fluid.
Son of a bitch. My chest tightens as my eyes land on the dark gleam cradled beneath her claws on a pillow. She’s smart enough not to touch it.The black egg.She brought it with her. Dread curls like smoke in my lungs, suffocating for a moment. This was already bad, but now? It’s about to get a hell of a lot worse.
I exhale quietly, forcing the tension out of my muscles. Climbing down the wall, I reach the door, fingers steady as I test the knob. I ease it open just enough to let a sliver of light spill into the hallway. The drake’s snarl echoes a moment later, and she charges, her claws scraping against the stone floor as she lunges toward the sound. Perfect.
Silent as a shadow, I climb back through the hole above the door, pressing my body close to the wall. From my perch, I watch her prowl beneath me. Her movements are sharp, her attention fixed on the hallway. My heart pounds in rhythm with the adrenaline coursing through me. No traps that I can see. Just her.
When her back finally turns, I drop to the ground, my landing soft but deliberate.
The moment my boots hit the floor, she whirls, her jaws snapping at the air where I was a second ago. I don’t hesitate. My hand flies to my side, and in one smooth motion, I pull my knife free and throw. It spins once before sinking into her shoulder with a sickening thunk.
Her roar of pain is deafening, and for a split second, I savor the sound. But then she charges, her yellow eyes blazing with fury, her massive frame bearing down on me like a nightmare come to life.
She breathes fire, and I barely roll out of the way in time. The heat sears my armor, and I can feel the raw energy of her rage. Part of the gauntlet is now ablaze, her fire spilling out of the room and into the hallway beyond. The difficulty setting was deadly before, but now it’s as if someone cranked it up to Hell-on-earth mode.
Partial shifting only. That’s the rule here, and it means I can’t use my breath weapon. She knows it too—counted on it. I grit my teeth as she lunges, another torrent of fire ripping toward me. I leap, hitting the ground in a roll, and as I come up, I hurl another knife at her opposite shoulder. My aim is steady, my intent clear: sever a tendon, hit a nerve, make one of her legs useless.
The blade strikes, but not deeply enough. Her roar of pain vibrates through the air, and my dragoness picks this exact moment to sing.What in Bahamut’s name does she think she’s doing?This is not the time.
The ambush drake snarls and lunges again, fire igniting the room in waves. I leap, throwing two more knives mid-air. One hits its mark, embedding deep in her rear leg. She collapses slightly, that limb going limp. Her movements falter, her lunge broken.
Blood pools on the floor now, slick and treacherous for both of us. I adjust my footing carefully, not trusting the slippery surface. Then I see it—a pulsing glow out of the corner of my eye.The black egg. It’s responding to the song.My dragoness’s song.
Her voice resonates in my mind, a haunting melody of vengeance. Vengeance against my father. Against this female who dared steal his egg. Her song speaks of Klauth, of the bond we share with him. There’s a promise of freedom in her melody, a promise edged with wrath and ruin.
The egg glows brighter, and I feel a cold certainty settle in my chest. If I live through this, I’ll have not one, but two cursed eggs bound to me. The weight of that reality presses against my thoughts, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. Not now. Not with fire, blood, and death circling me like a storm.
She lunges at me, a feral snarl ripping through the air. I wait, steadying myself, calculating her movement, but this time my timing is off—just slightly, but enough. Her teeth sink into my upper thigh, and a scream tears from my throat, sharp and raw. Pain explodes through me, but I don’t hesitate. I drive my short sword through the top of her skull with a brutal, decisive force. Her body goes limp instantly, collapsing at my feet.
Gritting my teeth, I carefully pry her canines from my thigh. Blood pours out, dark and hot, and I curse under my breath.I’m so lucky she didn’t snap the bone.Reaching up, I strip the tape from my horns and press it firmly to the wound, staunching the bleeding as best I can. One gift from my mother is quick healing—a blessing or a curse, depending on the situation. I close my eyes and focus, willing the process to work as fast as it usually does.
When the bleeding finally slows, I force myself to my feet, pain stabbing through me with every movement. My gaze falls on the cursed egg, still faintly glowing, almost pulsing with life. “Thank you for igniting for me again,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”
Without hesitation, I reach out and pick up the egg. Its warmth hums against my palms, a strange vibration that courses over my skin. Carefully, I tuck it into the small leather pouch sewn into the lower back of my armor. The moment it settles, the humming intensifies, washing over me like a soothing balm. The pain in my leg lessens, just slightly, but enough to make me wonder if the egg is helping me heal faster.
Glancing around, I take in the scene—flames licking at the gauntlet, the charred remains of the beast at my feet.There’s no turning back now. The only way out is forward. The gauntlet is burning, the air thick with smoke and ash. If I stay, I’ll die here.
I press a hand to the pouch, feeling the egg’s steady hum beneath the leather, and take a shaky breath.
I have to finish the gauntlet.
CHAPTER 4
Callan
WatchingMina dive into the gauntlet again is the worst feeling in the world. My stomach twists as I stand on the sidelines, powerless to do anything but wait. This trial is far worse than the first one she ran here—though even now, it doesn’t compare to the horrors her father made her endure during training. That thought doesn’t help. It just makes the ache sharper.
“So, we’re just going to sit here and wait for her to come out?” Vaughn growls, dragging his fingers roughly through his hair, his frustration palpable.
“Not exactly,” Ziggy mutters, dropping down beside us with a practiced ease. He pulls out a medallion hanging from a chain around his neck—a small, polished black dragon scale. Abraxis’s scale. Of course. “I’ve been ordered to go in and pull her out if she needs it. If the general decides she can’t handle it.”
Smoke curls out of the gauntlet, and the sharp scent of burning wood hits my nose. Then something worse—flesh. My chest tightens, panicclawing at the edges of my control. Without thinking, I break into a run toward the structure, Vaughn, and Ziggy on my heels, but Lysander steps into our path, his hands raised to stop us.
“There’s an ambush drake in there,” he says calmly, like that’s supposed to reassure us. “It’s her part of the gauntlet. The fire is controlled.”
A scream shreds the air, piercing and raw, and I freeze. My breath catches, my entire body strung tight as a bowstring. My fists clench, and I whirl on Ziggy. “What the hell is Abraxis waiting for? Go get her!”
