Page 89 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg
“They hatch tonight?” Mina’s bottom lip trembles as she looks up at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I can see the war waging in her eyes—go see her sister’s progeny or remain here and ignore the event entirely.
“Basilisks can sense when eggs are going to hatch down to the hour. It’s a gift of ours.” I shrug, watching the range of emotions Mina cycles through—fear, longing, anger, hope—each one clear as day to my enhanced senses.
“Can we go? I mean, will they allow me in their den? Nest? Clutch? Pit? Whatever it’s called?” She presses the bridge of her nose to the underside of my jaw, and I’m done for. The gentle pressure of her skin against mine sends electricity racing down my spine. I’d knit a sweater out of Lysander’s intestines if she asked me to.
“We can, and your other mates are already aware. Ziggy can drop us close, and we can traverse the last bit alone.” I offer and give her a gentle squeeze. I can feel the minute she reaches for Ziggy’s bond and gives it a caress. Sometimes it’s unnerving how in tune to Mina I am—how I can sense the subtle shifts in her energy when she connects with the others.
Ziggy phases into existence before us and almost tumbles off the branch, his form solidifying from mist to matter in an instant. I reach out and grab him before he can fall, my reflexes lightning-quick. “Whoa, that was close. Good catch, Balor,” Ziggy smiles as he looks between us, his green eyes assessing our tangled position.
“I’d like to go see my sister,” Mina’s voice sounds so small, and it makes Ziggy and me pause. Seeing her sister’s clutch may do good for both of us. Hopefully, they are fully shifted into either completely—not caught between worlds like the hybrid monsters that still haunt Mina’s nightmares.
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The territory of my kind is a shadow of what it once was. The Shadow Mount looms before us, jagged and imposing against the night sky. Its obsidian peaks catch the moonlight, creating an eerie silver outline that both beckons and warns. The entrance to our subterranean world gapes like a wound in the mountainside—as dangerous as it is beautiful. The wind carries the scent of ancient stone and primal danger, stirring memories of a time when basilisks ruled these lands unchallenged.
Ziggy phases us within three hundred yards of the entrance, the air crackling with electricity as we materialize on solid ground. The sudden shift from nothingness to existence makes my stomach lurch, though I’m accustomed to his particular method of travel.
“I don’t dare go any closer,” he mutters, stepping side to side uneasily. His normally confident posture is tense, shoulders hunched as if expecting an attack. The scent of his fear—sharp and acrid—drifts between us.
“It’s okay. Mina and I have it from here.” I rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder and offer him a smile that I hope conveys more confidence than I feel. “Mina can fly us home later.” The leather of my gloves creaks as I squeeze his shoulder gently.
Ziggy hugs and kisses Mina goodbye, his movements hurried and anxious before he disappears before my eyes, leaving behind only the faint scent of his musk.
Mina and I stand in our black fighting leathers, the material clinging to our bodies like a second skin. The supple leather moves with us, designed for both protection and effortless movement. Her hood rests atop her head, her mask hanging loosely against her throat. I can feel the unease radiating from her—a tangible thing that makes the air between us heavy and thick. I lean in and kiss her cheek, my lips brushing against skin as soft as silk yet cool to the touch.
“Come on, let’s go meet the little ones when they get here.” I take her hand, feeling her slender fingers intertwine with mine, and start walking toward the entrance. The jagged opening yawns before us, appearing like it has teeth with the way the stalactites and stalagmites hang—mineral fangs ready to snap shut on unwary travelers. The damp, mineral-rich air carries the unmistakable scent of my kind—earth, stone, and something venomous that burns the nostrils.
With every step closer, her hand tightens on mine until I feel her talons threatening to emerge. I know it’s not fear that drives her reaction, but apprehension. The leather of our gloves creaks with the pressure of her grip. She hasn’t seen her sister in almost two years, and now she’s invited into her pit. This singular moment can make or break what’s left of their relationship. The weight of it hangs in the air between us, unspoken but understood.
I help Mina past the opening, my boots crunching on loose pebbles. The temperature drops immediately, the cool subterranean air raising goosebumps on the exposed skin of my neck. I see her eyes glow golden in the darkness as she stares down the tunnel, adjusting to the dim light faster than any human could.
“It smells dangerous,” she whispers, her voice echoing softly against the stone walls. She tilts her head again, breathing in deeply, her nostrils flaring. “There’s a couple hundred basilisks down there.” Her voice is steady as she assesses what we’re about to walk into, but I can hear the slight acceleration of her heartbeat.
“That’s correct. There are two dozen different pits with smaller pits attached to them.” I pause for a moment, trying to explain how our group’s work. My fingers trace idle patterns on the back of her hand as I search for the right words. “So there’s a dominant female in a pit. Her daughters create pits off their mother’s main living space. Sons are driven off to find their own female.” I bite my bottom lip, theslight pain focusing my thoughts as I watch to see if my explanation makes sense to her.
“So it’s similar to a flight. A dominant female assumes the largest nest, then others branch off of hers. Kind of like having Cora in the lower level.” She tilts her head, looking at me with those intelligent eyes that miss nothing.
“Exactly like that.” I pull Mina against my side, feeling the warmth of her body through our leather armor. The scent of her—honey, lavender, and something uniquely dragonic—mixes with the earthy smell of the cavern as we step into the main chamber where all the pits connect. Mina pauses, taking it all in. I watch as she scans the interior, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of hundreds of holes in the walls at varying heights. The cavern itself is massive, the ceiling disappearing into the darkness above us. Distant sounds of movement and hushed conversations echo throughout the space, creating an eerie symphony of basilisk life.
“In strength order,” I motion to the holes, my voice low and respectful in this sacred space. “We keep the youngest or weakest of our kind up high.” The logic is brutal but effective—the stronger you are, the closer to the ground your pit is.
Mina stares at the wall again, her gaze calculating. “Where’s yours?” Her eyes transform into dragonic slits as she looks at me, the golden irises glowing brighter.
“Second from the bottom. There’s only one pit below mine.” Pride colors my voice despite my attempt at humility. I walk Mina over to what would be my space. There're dozens of offerings in the entryway—gleaming gems, polished bones, and other treasures carefully arranged on stone pedestals. The items catch the dim light of the phosphorescent fungi that grows along the walls, creating a subtle display of wealth and desire.
Mina looks at me puzzled, her head tilting in that endearing way that betrays her curiosity. “Offerings from single females trying to get me to choose them.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, especially with Mina beside me.
Mina’s eyes take on a dangerous edge, the gold darkening to amber before her talons extend with a softsnicksound. She climbs into the opening, the movement fluid and predatory. I watch as the scales rise and cover her throat, emerald with silver edges that catch the light as she pulls off her hood. The scrape of scale on stone sounds like nails on a chalkboard, sending shivers down my spine. Mina is marking my space as hers, claiming territory in the most primitive and undeniable way.
She leaps down with graceful precision, landing beside me without a sound. Immediately, she rubs the scales on her throat against my armor, scent marking me. The rasp of her scales against my leather creates a friction that generates both sound and heat. It’s interesting to see Mina possessive of me—I kind of like it. The display makes something primal and possessive unfurl in my chest, a pleased rumble escaping my throat.
When she’s done, she puts her hair back up in her hood and just stares at me, her eyes challenging me to object. I can smell her scent now mixed with mine—a declaration to any basilisk with a functioning nose that I am claimed.
“We need to climb up to your sister’s pit.” I point to the one halfway up the wall, and Mina nods and motions for me to lead the way. The damp stone glistens in the dim light, making the climb look more treacherous than it actually is.
Instead of shifting, I climb up the wall slow and steady until I reach the pit entrance. My fingers find natural handholds in the rock, muscles straining pleasantly with each upward pull. The sound of Mina’s talons sinking into the stone as she climbs makes the hairs onthe back of my neck stand on edge—a primal response to a predator at my back, even if that predator is my mate.
“Amara, Zeb, I brought Mina with me,” I call into the pit, my voice reverberating against the stone walls. The air here smells different—like a mixture of basilisk and dragon, with underlying notes of nesting materials and fresh water.
