Page 48 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
I watch, a mix of longing and apprehension knotting in my stomach, as Mina smiles and murmurs, “Okay, my love, see you soon.” In the blink of an eye, she and Ziggy vanish into the ether, leaving behind a bittersweet echo of their presence and the fading aroma of her perfume that lingers in the stillness of the room.
CHAPTER 26
Mina
We arrive backat my home perched above the Risedale compound, and I let out a long, weary sigh as a cool draft mingles with the faint, musky aroma of old wood and fresh markings. Ziggy tilts my face upward with gentle insistence, his warm eyes searching mine. “What happened?” he asks softly.
“It’s not what happened. It’s what will happen,” I reply, my voice low and heavy with foreboding. I take in the dim interior of my new sanctuary. Over the last week, I have scent-marked every corridor and passage of my lair—except for the living room and kitchen—with a potent, bristling aroma that warns any dragon of my dominion. The sharp, musky odor hangs in the air like an unspoken threat, a constant reminder that I am the dominant dragoness in these parts. Even Cerce—Abraxis’s mother—now recoils at the mere hint of my anger.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Ziggy asks, smiling as he pulls me toward my favorite hammock chair, which swings gently by the crackling fireplace. The soft fabric whispers against my skin as Isettle into its comforting embrace, and the warm glow of the fire paints dancing shadows on the walls.
“We need to wait for the others,” I murmur, sliding into the hammock and arranging my pillows just so. I carefully lift Thauglor’s egg, its warm, smooth surface pulsing beneath my fingertips, and set it beside me.
“It’s that bad?” Ziggy inquires, climbing into the hammock and wrapping his muscular arms around my waist. I feel the steady thump of his heart pressed against me—a reassuring, rhythmic counterpoint to the tension coiling in my stomach.
“Lysander will try to kill me,” I confess, fixing my gaze on the flickering flames. The fire’s heat, mixed with the acrid tang of smoke, makes my throat tighten as I imagine his lethal intentions.
“How? His stone gaze and venom won’t work on you,” Ziggy reasons, gently rolling me so I can rest my head on his chest. His voice is soft and steady, though a trace of disbelief lingers beneath it.
“He’s going to constrict around me,” I say, closing my eyes to better hear the steady beat of his heart. In the background, the creak of footsteps and indistinct murmurs signal that the others have arrived in the living room.
“So what didn’t you want to say in front of the others?” Leander asks from the arm of the couch, his tone laced with both curiosity and concern.
I sit up and swivel the hammock to face everyone. With deliberate care, I rest Thauglor’s egg on my lap, feeling its erratic warmth pulse through my fingers. “Lysander is going to try to kill me by constricting around me while I’m still human,” I declare, my words trembling with apprehension.
“He knows his venom and stone gaze don’t work,” Balor remarks as he accepts a drink from Callan. The soft clink of glass punctuatinghis sentence, accompanied by the faint, spicy scent of the liquor.
“Exactly why he’s going to constrict around me,” I add, my eyes fixed on the egg’s insistent pulsations, like distant drumbeats heralding impending doom.
“Why don’t you shift and destroy him as your dragon?” Klauth suggests, placing a drink before me with a muted thud.
I trace the egg’s smooth surface with a fingertip before replying, “I’m not sure. The vision is part of a waking dream—it never finishes for whatever reason.” I sigh and take a tentative sip of the tart juice in my hand, its sharp flavor a brief distraction from the dark dread churning inside me.
Balor shifts his weight from foot to foot, the soft tap of his boots betraying his unease. “We need to find a spot where I can shift, so that I can coil around you, Mina, and help you figure out what to do,” he says, his voice edged with anxiety.
“I don’t like the idea that you can’t shift,” Abraxis interjects, glancing sharply at Klauth. “Is there anything that can block our shifting?”
Klauth paces, his boots scraping quietly against the worn floor. “Several herbs can slow down the ability to shift,” he muses. “I’m not sure if there’s anything to completely stop it—unless he has someone with a knack for dark magic working for him.”
My blood runs cold. I leap from the hammock, clutching Thauglor’s egg as if it were a lifeline. “Isobel…” I whisper urgently, locking eyes with Abraxis as a startling thought rockets through me. “What if she’s working with Lysander? Both have openly defied some of the dragon accords in the past.” My voice trembles, and I watch Klauth come to an abrupt halt in his pacing.
“Let’s move the furniture around—get it all against the walls,” Klauth commands, shoving chairs and tables with determined force.The creak and scrape of wood fills the room as he speaks. “You’re about the same size as Lysander’s basilisk, right, Balor?”
“I’m bigger,” Balor replies, arching his brow in a silent acknowledgment as if connecting dangerous dots in a grim puzzle.
“Then you’re immune to another basilisk’s stone gaze?” Klauth asks, as he and Abraxis work together to drag the couch to the wall. The soft rustle of fabric and low thuds of shifting furniture underscore the urgency in his tone.
“Stone gaze and toxin,” Balor states firmly, glancing at me before returning his steady gaze to Klauth. “I’m going to be the only one able to get close to him.”
“Thauglor is going to hatch to save me,” I declare, looking down at the egg resting in my arms. “But I’m afraid he’ll get turned to stone trying to rescue me.” I shift my gaze to Balor, who stands in the center of the room, his body tense with anticipation. Reluctantly, I hand Thauglor’s egg to Klauth. Its warm pulses, a silent reminder of the uncertain future, and step into the center of the living room.
“How does it happen?” Callan asks as he circles us, his footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floor.
I close my eyes and let the vision replay in my mind, each detail etched with painful clarity. “He comes up behind me and coils around me quickly, then turns his head to stare at me—trying to turn me to stone.” My voice is barely a whisper, and as I speak, Balor mimics the lethal motion, his coils outlining the crushing embrace with unnerving precision.
“What else happens?” Ziggy prompts, and I force the vision to replay in slow motion. “I hear Thauglor’s dragon roar in the distance…” The deep, resonant bellow vibrates in my mind, as real as the heat from the fire. “Lysander tightens his grip around me again, making it harder to breathe.” I feel my chest constrict as if the imagined coils are closing in on me. “Then something distracts him from behind—a flash of black scale—and that’s when I wake up.” The memory shatters like fragile glass, leaving my heart pounding in my ears.
As I open my eyes, I lock gazes with the blood-red, serpentine eyes of Balor’s basilisk, their predatory glimmer sending a chill straight to my core.
