Page 59 of Trial of the Cursed Egg

“Was that...?” He trails off, and I nod, feeling the pulse of his fear, raw and exposed.

The Arcanum Campus feels heavier now, like the world’s holding its breath, waiting for something to snap. It’s not just the weight of the egg strapped securely to my chest—I feel every curious gaze, each whisper behind my back, all of them seeing the bigger target painted on me. Abraxis walks close, like he can shield me from it all, but Iknow better. We head to the lecture hall, taking seats in the far back, where I don’t have to worry about anyone getting too close to Klauth’s egg.

Isobel’s voice cuts through the murmurs as she addresses the class. “Today, we have a special lecture. How many here have found their mates this year?”

I rise reluctantly, along with one other female dragon and a few from other species. Isobel’s gaze sweeps over us, lingering on Abraxis and me in the back. Her tone softens with respect. “General, you grace us with your presence.”

Abraxis inclines his head, flashing my mark on his neck for all to see. “Where my young mate goes, I follow.” I catch the surprised stares as I tilt my head, exposing my neck and shoulder where his teeth marks scatter across my skin. Abraxis loves his marks; I think he considers my right shoulder his territory.

Isobel nods approvingly. “As it should be, General.” She refocuses on the class, her eyes flicking between the female dragon up front and me. “Starting in the fourth quarter, we will separate females with mates from the general class. Nest construction and egg chamber placement will be the priority for you then.”

Nest construction. I try to stifle the shiver that slips down my spine at the thought.

The idea sends a chill through me as we settle back into our seats. Thinking about choosing a nesting site right now feels impossible, even repulsive. I close my eyes, but suddenly a vision overtakes me. Pressing my forehead against Abraxis’s shoulder, I hide the glow in my eyes as scenes unfold.

I see the mountains of my father’s former territory. The peak of Iz is where my sight settles, and I watch our three dragons tearing through the mountain. Rocks tumble, crashing down and burying what was once my childhood home. Then the vision speeds up, revealing a fortress nestled between the towering peaks of Jurel and Starlet. Its location is so remote, accessible only to those who can fly, with a near-vertical ascent on both sides that makes approach impossible otherwise.

For protection, the walls are forged from dragon glass—a material impervious to fire and nearly all weapons. I know it’s Abraxis and Klauth’s combined fire that created this unbreakable glass for the structure’s defenses.

The vision fades, and I draw a deep breath, steadying myself as the world around me settles back in focus. “What did you see?” Abraxis whispers, his voice close, his words threading into my awareness.

Without a word, I reach for my sketchpad, quickly drawing out small fragments of what I saw. Abraxis studies the sketches before ripping the page from my book, folding it carefully, and tucking it into his pocket. Meanwhile, Isobel drones on, her voice grating as she talks about the eggs and the dangers they hold.

“Willamina has the red dragon egg,” she announces, making me tense and grip Abraxis’s hand. “A drake so vicious it took fifteen mages to bind him to his prison. If he hatches, there will be hell on earth. He swore his revenge upon awakening.”

Against my chest, Klauth’s egg hums, resonating with Isobel’s words. I lean close, whispering, “Shh … We’ll help you once you’re free,” and the egg’s vibration softens at my voice.

Isobel, noticing my shift in focus, thankfully changes the subject, discussing the hybrid dragon strains bred to preventinbreeding. She goes back to the whiteboard, listing the known bloodline combinations. The hour feels like four by the time it finally ends. At least I’ll be back at Shadowcarve soon, where I can breathe safely again.

Walking through the academy gates feels like a return to something familiar—almost like coming home. This place has been a second home to me this year. Abraxis walks beside me, leading me to the door of my apartment. Once I’m safely inside, he leaves to teach his class, disappearing down the corridor.

Today’s Art of War class is combined with the second-year Spy craft students. I pull on my black armor, wrapping my horns with practiced ease before pulling the hood to rest on top of my head. My black gloves slip into my pocket, and I carefully place Klauth’s egg between the pillows on my spare bed. Iris, with her ever-watchful eyes, climbs onto the bed beside it, settling protectively near the egg. It’s safer to leave it here—I do not know what Ziggy has planned for today’s class, and I’d rather not take chances.

Stepping into the courtyard, a sense of calm settles over me. High above, perched on a narrow beam, Ziggy stares down at us with a calculating look. “Today, we’re working on balance and agility,” he announces. “Ms. Havock will join us for the last quarter of the year. She’s our two-time gauntlet winner, so don’t let her size fool you.”

“I’m more worried about the general coming and taking our heads,” a boy in the front mutters, earning a laugh from me. He turns, his eyes widening as he sees my long, green, and silver hair, recognition flickering in his gaze.

“I am Abaddon Bladesong’s heir,” I say smoothly, flicking my hands down and letting silver talons and scales slide over my skin, covering my hands in a protective layer.

Out of the shadows steps Balor, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks at me. “Get the ring from the peak, Mina,” he challenges, nodding toward the gauntlet. The structure looms high above, easily forty feet tall, and the ring he speaks of gleams at the very top. Perfect.

“Do I pass for the year if I do?” I arch a brow, looking at Balor, then over at Ziggy.

“I tell you what. Anyone that passes it first try passes for the year and doesn’t have to come to class.” Ziggy offers, and I see Callan standing with Abraxis on the balcony overlooking the courtyard.

I raise my hands, showing Ziggy my talons. “What’s allowed?”

“Let’s make it harder. No shifting of any kind.” He gets a wicked look in his eyes.

Ziggy’s challenge sends a thrill through me, especially with the stakes raised this high. “No shifting?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as I retract my talons and slip on my gloves, feeling the soft leather hug my fingers. “This’ll be interesting.”

His wicked grin widens. “I want to see what raw talent my students have.” He motions for the first group to start, and I watch, studying every movement, each failure, as one by one, they plummet, caught by the safety net below. The gauntlet’s brutal. It’s not meant for the faint-hearted, that much is clear.

When he calls my group, I take a deep breath, letting my intent sharpen into focus. The route unfolds in my mind—a clear, mental blueprint of each handhold and foothold, every bar, and beam. But as I approach, I hear the clack of metal; the gauntlet shifting. Myvision adjusts, recalculating as pieces twist and slot into new places, adding to the challenge. Of course, it wouldn’t stay predictable.

The starter pistol cracks, and I lunge forward, adrenaline coursing through me. Rebel and Lemon, the familiars of my mate and the headmaster, circle the tower above, their wings beating steadily, watching. I grip the metal rungs and start my climb, feeling every vibration in the steel. Suddenly, the section I’m on jolts, spinning violently. I hold on, gritting my teeth, and slip slightly, my gloves squealing against the metal. Without thinking, I leap, grabbing onto the spinning bar overhead. It swings me around fast, but I hold tight, muscles straining.

Then I spot a ring on a chain dangling just above me. Timing my reach with the spin, I grab it, but as I do, the chain releases, and I’m falling. I twist mid-air, slamming my arm over a protruding beam. Pain slices through my ribs—I might have cracked one, but I haul myself up, gasping through the hurt. Three-quarters up. Not much farther.

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