Page 10 of Thauglor
Until then, I have nothing but time and the echo of my breathing in this cursed shell.
Chapter Nine
I wakeup several times over who knows how long to voices again. I wonder how long I’ve slept. It feels like centuries since I last opened my eyes. The concept of time has become meaningless in this endless darkness. I haven’t had a coherent thought in what feels like ages. My mind drifts through fragments of memory like smoke through broken glass.
I ignited and hatched twice over the years as the world changed around me so many times. Both times I emerge, it's for males seeking vengeance—their rage calls to something dark and primal in the curse. Before I can venture too far, the figures capture me yet again. Their hands burn like ice against my scales as they drag me back to this prison. This sleep feels different, heavier. Who knows if I’ll ever wake up again? At this point, I really don’t know if I want to. Part of me would rather sink into the dreamless void than face another moment of this suffocating isolation.
I close my eyes again, dreaming of what may come. In my fantasies, she exists—the one the curse spoke of. A female born of rival bloodlines who might look beyond ancient hatred.Sometimes I imagine her with crystalline scales that catch starlight. Other times she appears with the deep blue hide of my enemies, her eyes holding understanding instead of contempt. But always, she remains just out of reach, a ghost born of desperate longing.
A female voice drifts into the darkness, cutting through my despair like a blade through silk. It is soft and melodic, like an angel whispering against cold stone. The sound makes my scales prickle with sudden awareness. My prison feels more cramped and oppressive than ever. The heavy walls of this egg press against my limbs and horns with renewed weight. The stale air burns my nostrils, thick with the taste of my own recycled breath and centuries of confinement.
Then I sense her presence like lightning striking my very soul. A powerful dragoness hovers nearby. Her essence hums through the shell—a deep thrum that echoes in my bones and makes my teeth ache. I feel her power coil around mine, seeping slowly through the cold barrier like warm honey. Her energy chases away the chill in my confinement, gentle yet insistent. The warmth spreads through my cramped limbs like life returning to frozen flesh. Tension builds inside me until it bursts forth in a low, resonant pitch that rattles my core. Her intent washes over me in waves: desire, strength, promise. Her song swells, filling the silence of my long imprisonment. Every fiber of my being vibrates in response like a tuning fork struck by the gods.
“My mate...” I hear my dragon’s voice for the first time in countless lifetimes. The words rasp from my throat, rough from disuse. This female, this unique female, is ours—whoever she is. My claws scrape the rough inner wall as I pound on the hardened barrier. The sound echoes in the hollow space, afrantic rhythm of my longing. The impacts send vibrations up my arms, but I don’t care about the pain.
My heart pounds with exhilaration and desperation, the rhythm so violent I taste copper in my mouth. I’m so tired of this suffocating darkness, of breathing the same stale air that reeks of despair. The figures forced me into this egg decades ago. They turned me into a weapon with no say in my fate. Now, hope flares like an inferno in my chest—an escape, a female who might set me free from this living tomb. My pulse roars in my ears as I cling to that fragile spark of possibility.
I project my longing into the silence, pushing every ounce of yearning through the shell. “I’m here,” I send out with every shred of desire that’s been building for centuries. “I am yours to command. You are my world; come and claim me! Take me away from this hell I’m trapped in.” I press my taloned hand against the icy shell. The cold burns against my palm like frozen metal. My jagged nails dig in, feeling every imperfection in the cursed surface. The chill of the shell sends shivers up my spine and makes my scales contract. I lower my horned head, willing the barrier to yield under her touch, praying to whatever gods might still listen.
Voices drift in again, muffled but distinct. I catch fragments—talk of my shell and a red egg igniting for her. The words hit me like physical blows. Klauth is here too? My pulse spikes at the thought, hammering against my ribs. He’s trapped in this nightmare with me, probably driven half-mad by grief for his lost progeny. Can she choose both of us? Please take us both. Please save us from this prison before we lose what’s left of our sanity.
I hear her thank Klauth for choosing her. The words slice through me like acid eating through stone. My heart sinks, anddepression crashes over me like a crushing wave. My mate—she was right there. So close I could almost taste her scent through the shell, yet so far away she might as well be on another world. My heart breaks at the thought that she’s leaving me behind. The pain feels physical, like claws tearing at my chest from the inside.
Then the words the figure spoke to me ring in my ears like a death knell: “History will say you went mad, lost to your dragon nature, and became a danger to all.” What female in her right mind would take the chance of both of us being the monsters they claim we are? Why would she risk herself for dragons cursed to be weapons, branded as mad beasts who lost themselves to bloodlust and rage?
The silence stretches on, thick and oppressive. Every second feels like another nail in my coffin. I press my face against the shell, breathing in the metallic scent of my desperation. The walls seem to close in tighter; the air grows thinner. Soon, she’ll be gone, and I’ll be alone again with nothing but the echo of what might have been. The curse will continue, and I’ll sleep for another century or more, dreaming of freedom that will never come.
Something happens outside my prison.I hear what sounds like a war waging beyond the shell. The distant roars and clashing sounds vibrate through the curved walls. Soon something metallic clicks against my shell with a sharp, ringing sound. My entire world tumbles and spins before everything goes blackagain. The motion makes my stomach lurch as I’m jostled like cargo.
Voices filter in later, muffled but distinct. They plot against a female called Mina. She apparently killed someone’s mate. Any female able to kill a male of another species is quite skilled, or the male was weak. Either way, two of these females hate her and have turned an entire nest against her. Their venomous words seep through the shell like poison.
“I’ll hide in the gauntlet with the black egg. When the bitch comes for it, I’ll kill her. She won’t get the chance to claim a second egg.” The female’s voice echoes off stone walls, and I feel a chill run down my spine like ice water through my veins. The malice in her tone makes my scales prickle with dread.
The female plots to kill my mate. Mina’s going to run the gauntlet. How backward has this timeline become? We would never allow our females to face such deadly trials. The gauntlets were meant for weak males to be culled, not for dragonesses to prove their worth. Klauth will be furious that his father’s vision has been twisted into this nightmare. The thought of my mate facing such danger alone makes my chest tight with panic.
For the first time in centuries, hope flickers in my chest like a candle’s flame in darkness. My mate—she exists. She’s real, not just a fevered dream born of desperation. The curse spoke of a female from rival bloodlines, and here she comes, seeking me out despite the danger. The possibility of freedom tastes sweeter than anything I’ve ever known.
I fall asleep again and partially awaken feeling we’ve changed locations. The acoustics sound different now—sharper, more enclosed. The sound of claws on stone echoes in the chamber we’re in, scraping and clicking with predatory patience. Wemust be in the gauntlet, and she’s waiting to kill my mate. But my mate killed her mate, so she’s not weak. The thought both terrifies and fills me with fierce pride.
A roar of pain is deafening, so loud it reverberates through my shell and into my bones. For a split second, I fear the sound. But then something charges across the room with thundering footsteps. Something breathes fire, and the chamber gets hotter. The heat warms my egg, and I can feel the raw energy of rage radiating through the air like waves. I hear the battle wage on outside, and I’m helpless inside this prison of mine. The sounds of combat fill me with desperate frustration—snarls, the wet impact of claws on flesh, the scrape of scales against stone.
I feel my mate out there through the faintest of tethers that connects us. The bond pulses with her heartbeat, letting me taste her fury and determination. Another roar of pain vibrates through the air, and my mate’s dragoness picks this exact moment to sing. Her voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.
Her voice resonates in my mind, a haunting melody of vengeance that makes my very soul ache with recognition. Vengeance against her father. Against this female who dared steal my egg. Her song speaks of Klauth, of the bond she shares with him. There’s a promise of freedom in her melody, a promise edged with wrath and ruin. The sound fills the hollow spaces in my chest I didn’t know existed.
Eventually, what sounded like a war goes silent. The sudden quiet feels ominous, heavy with the aftermath of violence. I hear movement outside near my egg—careful footsteps approaching. “Thank you for igniting for me again,” she whispers. Her voice is hoarse from battle, rough with exhaustion and emotion. “I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”
Without hesitation, she reaches out and picks up my egg. Its warmth hums against her palms—a strange vibration that courses over her skin like electricity. I’m safe within my mate’s grasp for the first time in ages. The moment my shell settles against her, the humming intensifies, washing over her like a soothing balm. I focus on healing my mate and taking away her pain. She is battered, bloody, and bruised. I can feel the agony she’s trying to hide, the way her muscles shake with fatigue. Through our bond, I pour what comfort I can offer.
Next, I hear my mate talking to others within her nest, telling them she has me. Her voice carries pride and possessiveness that makes my heart swell. The best part—she took the bitch’s head as a trophy. I’m so proud of my mate. The fierce satisfaction in her tone sends warmth flooding through me. She mentions she’s immune to toxins and poisons, and it makes me pause. There are only three species that can boast one or the other, not both. All three species—green, iron, and titanium—are enemies of black dragons. They are also enemies of red dragons as well. The irony tastes bitter, but the hope tastes sweeter.
I hear a male mention talking about what happened as a nest, and that makes the most sense. I can only assume it’s the dominant drake. His voice carries authority and concern. I feel the flight back to her nest, the rhythmic beat of wings creating a soothing vibration. I sense a descendant of mine has our mate. Good. Klauth and I are truly safe now. The knowledge that my bloodline lives and protects her fills me with fierce pride.
“I need to see Klauth,” I hear my mate say, and we move away from my descendant. Her voice carries urgency and affection. “Iris, I’m home. Thank you for guarding Klauth for me.” She left another dragoness in charge of watching Klauth? That is truly odd, but it speaks to the trust she inspires.
She moves me, and I feel the moment my shell touches Klauth’s. The contact is electric, familiar. I can feel his presence like a warm pulse against my consciousness. Through images, he catches me up on what’s been happening. Our mate is Mina, and according to my oldest friend, she’s a fierce dragoness who doesn’t leave him alone for long. The relief of knowing he’s safe and cared for makes my throat tight with emotion.
We listen to her recount the gauntlet, and we learn our mate is highly intelligent. Iron dragons are extremely smart, sometimes too much for their own good. Her tactical mind impresses me even through the shell. Someone asks what she intends to do with us, and tension fills the air.
