Page 76 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg
I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe, watching Balor. “What are you thinking?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “I know that look. You know something I don’t.”
Balor’s lips press into a thin line before he speaks. “Vox let it slip that a dragoness gains power the stronger her nest is. She can’t wield our powers directly, but the bond strengthens her own.” His brow arches as he glances toward the bathroom door, where we hear a high-pitched squeal followed by splashing and the unmistakable sound of Mina’s purring growl. The sound sends a ripple of unease and something deeper through me.
“Okay,” I say, running my tongue over my teeth, “if that’s true, how many bonded mates does Mina have right now?”
Vaughn’s gaze shifts between us, his voice wry as he replies, “The only one here not bonded is Ziggy. Though from the sound of things, that might change soon.” He nods toward the bathroom, where the purring has turned into something more primal.
“Five,” Balor states matter-of-factly, his eyes fixed on the common room interior. “Five at this exact moment. Six probably sooner than later.”
“She’ll have eight when she’s done,” I mutter, the words tasting bitter as they leave my mouth. Drawing in a deep breath, I try to calm the nerves clawing at me. “Mina needs to put her nest in order once the ancients come into play. Either she’ll keep Abraxis as the leader or she’ll allow Klauth to take over the den.”
The weight of those words hangs between us, as heavy as the night itself. I drag a hand down my face, the rough scrape of stubble grounding me for a moment. The quiet doesn’t last long—Mina’s laughter echoes from the bathroom, light and sharp, like a spark catching fire.
We’re running out of time.
Morning comes entirely too early this morning, the pale light filtering through the heavy curtains casting long shadows across the room. I find Mina curled up beside me in bed, her presence a surprising contrast to the chill of the dawn air. The scent of blood is thick and metallic, lingering in the air like an unwelcome guest, making mynose wrinkle involuntarily. On her exposed shoulder glistens the telltale bite of Ziggy’s shift, the edges slightly swollen and the skin a deep crimson. Blinking against the dim light, I force myself to sit up, the cool sheets slipping off my limbs as I stare at the mark. My fingers trace the raised bumps, feeling the rough texture where her skin meets the bite.
Mina purrs softly in her sleep, a low, rhythmic sound that vibrates through the room. She opens her eyes to look at me, and I feel the weight of her gaze. My eyes drift over her bare form, noticing the claw marks from Callan’s gryphon on her ribs, their sharp scale liked edges contrasting against her smooth skin. The fang marks from Balor’s basilisk add a jagged pattern to her otherwise serene appearance. Multiple bites from Abraxis mar the flesh on Mina’s shoulder and the front of her throat, each one throbbing with a dull ache. My bite mark on the back of her neck tingles slightly under my touch, a reminder of our tangled fates. Vaughn’s gargoyle bite is visible on the opposite shoulder, symmetrical to Abraxis’s.
“We should start our day…” I say, my voice gravelly from the remnants of sleep as I stretch, feeling the stiffness in my back loosen. Sliding out of the bed, the cold floor tiles send a shiver up my spine.
“If we must,” Mina laments, her voice tinged with reluctance as she reaches for her pile of clothing on the chair by the door. The fabric rustles softly under her fingers. She freezes mid-movement, her eyes darkening and transforming into the fierce, predatory gaze of her dragon. “Abraxis is under attack.” The urgency in her voice cuts through the morning stillness. She hastily pulls on her clothes, the fabric brushing against her skin, and dashes out into the common room with swift, purposeful steps. “Abraxis is fighting…” Her eyes glow with an inner fire, scanning the room as if she can perceive threats invisible to the rest of us.
The oppressive intensity of her dragoness presence fills the space, making the air feel heavier as she flexes her hands, still lost in her trance. “What can we do?” Balor asks, his voice groggy as he steps out of his room clad in sleep shorts. The faint scent of his room—washed linens and a hint of incense—clings to him.
“Wake Vaughn up, get him to shift. Maybe wrapping her in his wings will help.” My words are brisk, knowing full well that Mina will be ravenously hungry once whatever is happening subsides. I rush to the kitchenette, the tiled floor cold under my bare feet, and start making sausages and bacon. The sizzling sound of meat hitting the hot pan fills the small space, the savory aroma mingling with the lingering scent of blood.
Vaughn emerges from his room, each step causing his form to morph until he’s fully in his gargoyle state. His claws scrape softly against the floor as his hands reach out, gripping Mina firmly and pulling her back against his broad chest. The sound of his wings unfurling is like the rustle of heavy fabric. His powerful wings wrap around the two of them, enveloping them in a protective embrace. It feels like an eternity before he finally opens his wings, releasing Mina with a controlled exhale.
Immediately, Mina meets me at the island countertop. The subtle clink of plates and utensils accompanies the tension in the air as I pass the plate of food to her. “It’s happening.” Her eyes, still reflecting her dragon’s intensity, scans each of us. “Vaughn, you need to take Klauth’s egg to the cliff face and rest his egg somewhere safe. He can’t hatch in here.”
She stands abruptly, the chair scraping back against the floor, and heads into her room. The soft thud of her footsteps fades as she works quickly, placing Klauth’s egg into a simple cloth bag. “Your time is almost upon us,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as shegazes down at the egg. It pulses faintly in her hand, the rhythmic thumping echoing in the quiet room. “My gargoyle mate is going to hide your egg on the cliff face close to where I know I’ll need you. When it’s time, come swiftly—it’s only a matter of moments difference between life and death for me.”
Reverently, she kisses the egg, her lips warm against the cool surface, and sighs deeply. “I’ll tug on the bond. Please hurry…” Her tone fractures my heart, the desperation clear in her voice. Klauth’s egg pulses brighter, the light intensifying as if struggling to break free. “It’s too soon. You need to save me at the right moment.” She kisses the egg again, the soft sound of contact lingering before she closes the bag and hands it to Vaughn. “Go.”
Vaughn dashes to the balcony, the sound of his movement echoing as he leaps into the air, taking flight toward where Mina indicated. She appears rattled, the way she nervously shuffles the sausages around the plate. The slight tremor in her hands betraying her calm facade. “Hours … we have hours left.” She looks at me, her eyes heavy with worry, and sighs, the sound filled with unspoken fears.
I can feel the turmoil swirling in her mind, the silent questions unspoken between us.Did she just send Vaughn away to have his amulet stolen? Is she the reason it gets stolen?Her eyes lower, avoiding mine, and I instinctively move closer to hug her, the softness of her body contrasting with the fierce energy she exudes. My questions aren’t going to help anything right now. So I simply hold her, the warmth of her presence a slight comfort amidst the chaos.
Sadly, the day can’t stop just because we know something is coming. The air is heavy as I make my way toward Ranathor Keep to teach my class, each step echoing like a drumbeat of inevitability. The shadows along the narrow pathways seem to slither and coil, playing tricks on my mind. My skin prickles, and the faint scent of damp stone and earth clings to the breeze, a reminder of how easily the campus can turn from home to hunting ground. Every corner feels like a potential ambush.
All we know is that somehow, I’m abducted. We don’t know exactly where or when, but it happens. My stomach churns at the thought. I pass the southern dorms, the chatter and laughter of students muffled behind thick wooden doors. It feels like I’ve walked into a trap. The sensation of eyes boring into me grows unbearable—piercing, dissecting, peeling away my every move. It crawls over my skin like invisible hands, clawing at my composure. My pulse quickens. For my sanity’s sake, I change direction, heading toward Velorian Hall and keeping the looming spires of the Arcanum Campus to my left.
But the oppressive weight doesn’t lift. The eerie sensation clings to me like a second shadow, tightening its grip. Against my better judgment, I glance over my shoulder.
Four ambush drakes are following me. My breath catches. Two have shifted, their scaled forms gleaming faintly in the dim light, while the other two remain in human guise, their steps too deliberate to be casual.
“Aww … lookie what we found. A nightmare without a herd…” The voice cuts through the air like a blade, mocking and cold. The female fire drake—Ardent, one of the brutes from Arista’s nest—steps forward with a predatory smirk, her words dripping venom. Her squad fans out behind her, their movements measured, their eyes alight with cruel intent.
“Mina is going to tear you apart the first chance she gets,” I bite out, forcing steel into my voice. The words feel hollow even as they leave my lips, but I cling to them like a lifeline. One of the drakes flinches, but the others don’t waver.
“She’ll either be dead or enslaved by the drow, made into a mindless war machine,” Ardent sneers, her laughter like the crackle of flames devouring dry wood.
“Didn’t Abaddon say the drow were going to turn her into a dracolich?” the male ambush dragon pipes up, his tone almost casual—until Ardent’s slap cuts him off mid-sentence.
“She’ll make a powerful puppet with the right lich master … But she has to die first.” Ardent says, her voice laced with twisted satisfaction. I barely register the words before something heavy strikes the back of my head. Pain explodes in a blinding burst of light, and the world tilts violently before plunging into darkness.
When I wake, my head pounds like a war drum, the dull ache spreading down my neck. My throat is dry, and the taste of iron lingers on my tongue. I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but the cold, damp air and the faint stench of mildew tell me all I need to know.
