Page 38 of Queen of the Cursed Egg
We stand in silence as we watch the kittens wrestling with Ziggy in and out of the water, their bodies sleek blurs of movement, sending sprays of droplets that catch the light like tiny prisms. Belle, the mostly green kitten, vanishes with a subtle ripple in the air, then reappears behind her father, water streaming off her fur in rivulets. “Oh shit, the kitten can phase.” I point at Belle, shocked at what she can do so young, my voice echoing a bit too loudly in the cavern.
Ziggy shifts back to his human form, his body contorting briefly before settling, water running off his now-smooth skin instead of fur. He smiles, looking at his daughter, pride evident in the softening around his eyes. “We usually start phasing around a month to a month and a half old.” Azalea sneezes, and the familiar sizzle of acid hitting stone echoes in the chamber, the sound like water on a hot skillet but sharper, more dangerous. The acrid smell of dissolving limestone fills the air, making my nostrils burn and my eyes water.
“Um, we have a situation.” I motion to the acid eating the limestone, watching as it bubbles and smokes, small tendrils of vapor rising from the point of impact. The rock hisses and pops as it dissolves, leaving a shallow, pitted depression.
“Oh shit, what do we do?” Ziggy says as he looks from one daughter to the other, his eyes wide with panic, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead. The one that looks more dragon can phase, and the one that looks more like a displacer beast has a breath weapon.
“Um, shift back and explain to the kittens about how dangerous what they can do is?” My eyes dart around the interior of the cavern. I take in the narrow passages that could lead who knows where, the shadowy corners where a small kitten could easily hide. My heart rate picks up, its beat a drum against my ribs. “Or we can wait for Mina and hope we don’t have a missing kitten or someone’s skin burned off.” Ziggy shifts back almost immediately, his form blurring momentarily before solidifying into his beast's shape. He lays down, his massive body curled protectively around his offspring. I can only guess speaking to his kittens. His eyes are intense, focused entirely on the little ones before him. I can only hope he can get them to understand.
It feelslike days later when Mina finally summons Ziggy to bring the family back. The air in the cavern has grown stale, the once-pleasant mineral scent now cloying and heavy in my lungs. Two by two, he transports us back into the main part of the house. The shift in the environment jarring—from damp cave air to the warm, wood-scented comfort of our home. Ziggy, his children, and I are the last to return to the house. My stomach tightens with anticipation as we materialize, the momentary disorientation making my head spin.
The first thing I notice is Mina, sitting on the furs, her posture slightly hunched, betraying her exhaustion despite her attempt to appear normal. Her skin is paler than usual, with dark shadows beneath her eyes like bruises. Lily sits in front of her, the little dragoness’s scales gleaming like polished obsidian under the soft amber lighting. It looks like they’re in deep conversation, their eyes locked in silent communication. Mina makes a rumbling noise, the sound vibrating through the room like distant thunder, and then Lily imitates it and shoots a small spark of lightning out of her mouth. The brief flash illuminates their faces, casting sharp, momentary shadows on the stone walls. The air fills with the sharp, metallic scent of ozone. Mina nods and smiles before kissing her daughter on her forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment.
“Welcome back, guys.” She looks up and smiles at all of us. The smile stretches her lips but doesn’t quite meet her eyes—those remain distant, haunted pools of memory. But it’s better than I expected, considering what she likely had to do.
I sit Azalea on the ground, her tiny body warm and squirming against my hands. She and her twin scamper over to Mina and pounce on her, their little claws making soft scratching sounds against the furs. Mina laughs, the sound lighter than her expression,and nuzzles her kittens, purring to them. The vibration of her purr is audible across the room, a soothing, rumbling bass note. Her eyes move from baby to baby, then they glow brightly, a flare of golden light that makes me squint. One by one, the babies shift, the air around them shimmering with heat. The sound of tiny bones and cartilage realigning fills the momentary silence—not painful, they’re too young for that—but distinct, like twigs snapping underwater. Then chubby little toddlers sit on the floor, their skin flushed from the change.
Lily has black hair like her father, with several tendrils of silver like her mom, the strands catching the light as she moves. Belle’s hair is almost exactly like Mina’s except it has some black mixed in, a midnight cascade with streaks of moon glow. Azalea has mostly black hair like Ziggy with green mixed in, the emerald strands vibrant against the darkness.
Abraxis picks up his daughter, his hands gentle but trembling slightly, and points to the scales along her shoulders and down her back. They catch the light, iridescent patterns against her soft skin. “Lily is like Mina,” he says just as the ancients walk in, their presence immediately filling the room with a primal energy that raises the fine hairs on my arms.
“They have a powerful mother. And your bloodline is noteworthy as well, Abraxis.” Klauth says, smiling as he moves closer to look at Lily’s scales. His massive frame casts a shadow over them, but his approach is measured, careful not to startle.
“My daughters have scales too. What does that mean for them?” Ziggy says as he points at the twins’ backs. There aren’t as many scales as Lily has, but they are there, tiny flecks of armor catching the light.
“It means they have a powerful mother and her father's bloodline is worthy.” Mina says, smiling and looking at her three children. Thepride in her voice is evident, warm and rich, but there’s an undercurrent of worry that makes my chest tighten.
I know where her mind just went. I can see it in the subtle hardening of her jawline, the way her pupils dilate slightly. She’s looking at the potential that her daughters will be sought after for breeding stock because of their scales.
“Mina?” I try to get her attention, my voice soft but insistent. She forces a smile, the corners of her mouth tight.
“I know you know where I went just now. It’s an honest concern.” Her eyes lower for a moment, lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks.
“What’s an honest concern?” Thauglor scoots in close to her before anyone else has time to. The leather of his clothing creaks with the movement, and his scent—ancient stone and smoke—washes over us.
“My daughters bear scales like I do. They will be looked at as breeding stock because of their bloodline.” Mina lowers her head after speaking and sighs, the sound heavy with dread. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees with her words. “They need to train. Not as brutal as I was trained, but they need to be able to protect themselves.” Her eyes move from Thauglor to Abraxis, then they finally stop on Klauth, pleading for understanding.
“All children born of this nest will train to protect themselves.” He says resolutely, his deep voice resonating in my chest like a physical touch.
“Good.” Mina says as she looks at her daughters, the maternal ferocity in her gaze almost tangible. “None of my children will be defenseless.” Vaughn walks in with the bag Mina had off to the side, the fabric rustling softly, and hands it to her. She roots through it, thecontents shifting with muted thuds and crinkling plastic, picking out diapers and little jumpers with feet. She dresses each of the toddlers, her fingers deft and gentle, and smiles at them. The soft cotton of the clothing whispers against their skin as she adjusts the fits.
One thing I’ve learned over the last almost four years: When Mina is quiet, I know she’s processing whatever is plaguing her. The silence hangs heavy, punctuated only by the occasional coo or gurgle from the babies. Whatever happened with her father, I know, will surface eventually. “School starts up in two weeks,” I remind everyone, trying to break the tension that’s thick enough to taste—metallic and sharp on the back of my tongue.
“I’ve already been thinking about that.” Mina says as she looks from me to Ziggy, her gaze unfocused for a moment before sharpening. “Ziggy is going to be a stay-at-home dad. Balor is going to take over his classes for the rest of the year.” Mina looks down and sighs, her breath a soft whisper of resignation. “We just have possibly the council and definitely the mages left to deal with.” Her eyes drift to the ancients, seeking reassurance that isn’t fully there.
“We have a meeting with the heads of all the dens coming up later this week.” Klauth mentions and then looks at Thauglor, a silent communication passing between them that prickles my skin with unease.
“There’s a male in one of the nests close to here preparing to hit wyrm status. We believe if it’s the mages, they will strike there. It’s why we’re calling the summit.” Thauglor says as his eyes focus on the hatchlings, his gaze a mixture of tenderness and calculation that’s unsettling to witness.
“What if it is the mages?” Mina asks, and you can see the fear in her eyes looking between Klauth and Thauglor. Her voice wavers slightly, betraying the stress her body tries to hide.
“That’s where you and Ziggy come in. He’ll phase you in, and you can electrocute them.” Klauth says calmly, as if discussing nothing more consequential than the weather. The casualness with which he discusses lethal force sends a chill down my spine.
“When does he hit wyrm status?” I pull up the calendar app on my phone, the blue light from the screen harsh in the warm-toned room, casting an unnatural glow on my hands.
“Towards the end of the school year. We’ll get an exact date when we meet for the summit.” Thauglor answers, his voice measured but tense.
“Do you need me with you?” Mina asks as she tucks her daughters into the surrounding furs, the soft material rustling as she arranges it just so. Her maternal instincts are at war with her warrior nature—I can see it in the conflicted expression that flits across her face.
