Page 37 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
He thrashes in my grip, tearing his flesh with every move, warm blood running between my talons and dripping into the darkness below. My talons are far sharper than most dragons, a gift from my mom. The metallic scent of his blood fills the surrounding air, almost intoxicating in its significance.
He bites and strikes at my throat, his teeth scraping against my heavily armored scales with a sound like steel on stone, barely scratching the surface. I strike him with the spikes on my tail, each impact sending a jolt up my spine as I tear away hunks of flesh. Blood and scales rain down on the courtyard of my nest site, a gruesome precipitation marking my vengeance. My flight watches me fight my creator, their eyes gleaming in the darkness below like dozens of stars.
It’s exhausting keeping the two of us airborne, my wing muscles burning with the effort, but it’s safer than letting him near my home. The cold air rushes past us, making my eyes water and my nostrils sting. He roars, the sound desperate and guttural, trying to call the other green dragons to him.
What he didn’t count on was Klauth and Thauglor waiting for him to do it. The minute the other green dragons try to rescue Abaddon, their wings creating a chaotic symphony of beats and whooshes, mymates shift and go on the attack. Roars and screams fill the air, a terrible chorus of battle. I see the moment Ziggy grabs Abraxis and puts him on hatchling duty, their silhouettes distinct against the starlit sky.
Now that Abraxis is safe, I look down into the eyes of the male I once called father. His gaze is still defiant, but I can see the first flickers of fear there, the realization of his mortality finally dawning. The abuse, pain, torture, and my death flash before my eyes. Each memory is a shard of glass cutting through my mind. I feel the lightning build up in my chest. It’s a growing pressure behind my breastbone, then creeps up my throat, making the scales there tingle and rise. The taste of ozone fills my mouth, metallic and sharp.
Quickly, I strike, biting where his neck meets his body, my teeth sinking through scale and flesh with sickening ease. I let loose the biggest lightning strike I can muster; the energy ripping through me like a tidal wave. I light up the sky as the current moves over my scales, illuminating the darkness in harsh blue-white light. The lightning flows out of my mouth and into his body. His scales glow briefly from within, his skeleton visible for one macabre moment before the darkness claims him.
The scent of burnt flesh and ozone fills my nostrils as I draw in a deep breath to strike his corpse again as it falls free from my talons, tumbling through the darkness to the earth below. The surrounding air is charged, making my scales prickle and stand on end. In this moment, suspended between heaven and earth, I feel nothing.
I circle back through the ash-laden air to watch Klauth and Thauglor take out the last of the green dragons that swarmed my nest. The dawn light breaks over the horizon, painting the battlefield in hues of crimson and gold that glint off scattered scales and pooling blood. Each body that falls sends a name bursting into my head in a last goodbye, a whispered death knell that only I can hear. They followed a madman to the very end. But like most dragons, when you are partof a flight, your allegiance is to the dominant dragon of the flight. Sadly for them, my mother was collared. If she was free, she would have been stronger than all of them—a truth that tastes both bitter and sweet on my tongue.
I circle the crash site where my father’s body fell, the downdraft from my wings stirring up dust and the acrid scent of charred flesh. Landing close by, my claws sinking into the soft earth with a satisfying crunch, I remain in my dragon form, staring at the corpse. The broken body lies twisted and smoking, scales blackened and curled at the edges. For now, I don’t feel anything—no triumph, no grief, no relief—just a hollow emptiness where my fear once lived. I defended my territory and my babies within my home.
What’s left of the man before me isn’t the man I remember from before the training began. Not the man who used to read me stories, his voice soft and melodic against my ear. Not the man who used to tuck me in at night and sneak me cookies, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon clinging to his fingers. Something happened around my fifth birthday, and he changed. He became the boogeyman, the thing that went bump in the night. My creator and destroyer all in one vicious package.
I stare into his unseeing eyes, once brilliant gold now clouded and dull as tarnished coins. I’m not sure why I do, but I do. Perhaps seeking some answer that death has stolen, or confirmation that the monster can no longer reach me. The morning breeze carries the metallic tang of blood and ozone across my tongue, mingling with the earthy scent of the mountains.
Behind me, I feel when Klauth and Thauglor land, the ground trembling beneath their weight. The air grows thick with their presence, their unique scents—ancient fire and mountain stone—enveloping me like a protective cloak. The lightning builds in me once more, a tingling pressure that starts in my core and spreads through my limbs, making my scales rise and crackle with energy. My mouth fillswith the sharp, metallic taste of ozone as I strike the corpse again. The brilliant flash illuminates the clearing, casting harsh shadows across the rocky terrain. I keep striking until there’s just his skull and ash left behind, each blast sending shockwaves through my body and scorching the ground black. I chose a different path than my original vision where Klauth killed him. This way, I know he can’t haunt me anymore. The certainty of it settles in my bones like a physical weight lifted.
The smell of charred bone and singed hair fills my nostrils as I draw in a deep, shuddering breath. The last spark of lightning fades from my jaws, leaving behind a tingling sensation on my tongue. I am finally free, and my mother’s death avenged. The knowledge spreads through me like warm honey, sweet and soothing, as the first true rays of sunlight break fully over the mountain peaks, bathing me in golden light.
Today the nightmares end.
CHAPTER 25
Callan
We areall hunkered down in the secret cavern with the babies, taking them swimming. The air is thick with humidity, clinging to my skin like a second layer, while the mineral scent of the limestone fills my nostrils with each breath. The feeder stream for the hot springs cuts through this cavern. Its gentle gurgling is a constant background to the babies’ excited squeals. Steam rises from the water’s surface in lazy curls, creating a misty haze that softens the harsh edges of the rock walls. Ziggy and Abraxis manifest in here with us, their sudden appearance sending a ripple of cooler air across my damp skin. One look at Abraxis’s face—jaw clenched, nostrils flared—tells me he’s pissed.
“Take me back, Ziggy. Mina needs me.” He screams as he grabs Ziggy by the shoulders, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. The veins in his neck stand out like ropes beneath his skin, pulsing with each rapid heartbeat.
“No can do. Mina wanted you here with the babies. Besides, she has the ancients with her. She’s fine.” Ziggy says so confidently it’s amazing. His voice echoes slightly against the stone walls, resonantand assured. He shifts as he walks to the stream, his bones cracking and popping with the change. He plays with the babies, sending tiny waves rippling across the water’s surface with each movement.
“I swear he’s almost as bad as the hatchlings,” I laugh a little, the sound tight in my throat, as I offer Abraxis a beer from the cooler. The can is cold and slick against my palm, condensation already beading on the aluminum surface in the humid air.
He takes it and pops the top off before chugging half of it, the sharp hiss of carbonation followed by the heavy scent of hops and malt. A thin trickle of golden liquid escapes from the corner of his mouth, trailing down his chin. “Abaddon brought his flight with him.” His eyes lock on his daughter jumping off a rock with her wings out into Balor’s open arms. The flutter of her tiny wings sends droplets of water scattering like diamonds in the dim light.
“Where’s Abaddon?” I look at Ziggy as he picks up his kittens using his tentacles, their fur sleek and shining with moisture, their tiny bodies squirming against his hold.
“In Mina’s talons. Last I saw, she was flying up into the clouds with him. I saw a flash, and then we were here.” Abraxis rests his hand over Mina’s scale, the surface of it warm and pulsing like a heartbeat beneath his fingers. The worry etched into his face carves deep lines around his mouth and between his brows.
“What’s wrong?” Subconsciously, I move my shirt to look at mine. It’s as bright and vibrant as the day Mina gave it to me, the color shifting subtly with my breathing, a comforting weight against my chest.
Abraxis draws in a deep breath, his chest expanding noticeably. The scent of his anxiety—sharp and acrid—mingles with the earthy dampness of the cavern. “According to Thauglor, if Mina dies, the scale dies with her.” He presses his hand against the scale and closes hiseyes, his lashes dark smudges against his cheeks. “She’s tired, but okay.”
“That’s good news, right?” I smile, looking at him, trying to get him to focus on the positive. The stretch of my lips feels forced, my facial muscles tight with the effort.
“I just don’t want her to regret what I think she might do.” He kills off his drink and sits the empty down next to the makeshift garbage can we made out of a box. The hollow aluminum thunk echoes briefly in the cavern.
“Ah, I catch your drift.” I stare at the babies, watching them play, splashing in and out of the water. Their happy noises bounce off the cavern walls, creating a symphony of joy that feels at odds with the tension hanging heavy in the air.
“If she does...” He draws his thumb across his throat, the gesture slow and deliberate, his nail leaving a faint white line on his skin. “Him, she’s going to feel guilty later. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but she will.” Abraxis’s bottom lip quivers a little, a brief betrayal of emotion before he masters it. “She should’ve let me do it.” He says, looking up at me. His eyes shifted to his dragon’s—vertical pupils cutting through irises that glow with an inner fire in the dim light.
“She needs to know it’s truly over, Brax.” Balor says as he cradles Lily to his chest, her tiny form nestled against him, her scales gleaming like polished obsidian. “Someone else doing it for her wouldn’t be the same. We talked about it the other night.” He gazes down at the hatchling in his arms. There’s a softness there I’ve never witnessed before, a tenderness that transforms his usually hard features.
