Page 10 of Klauth
The world rocks slightly as she scoops us up. I feel the echo of her heartbeat, steady and strong, through the shell walls. It lulls me into a deep sense of safety. She clutches both eggs protectively against her body, and my purr resonates, thrumming like distant thunder. My mate claims us before her nest, and she doesn’t realize the significance of her words. But I do. Thauglor does.
This is the start of our mate bonds—tendrils of connection weaving tighter with every breath, every heartbeat, every hushed word she shares through this confining shell. And soon, I will be free to claim her entirely.
I pressmy palms against the slick, curved surface of this egg prison, feeling the faint thrumming from the world outside. It’s cramped here, the shell fitting me like a second skin, dense and suffocating. Sounds arrive muffled but discernible—voices distorted, like echoes in a deep cavern. I focus on Mina’s voice: sharp and resonant with defiance, sending a pleasant shiver along my scales.
Whoever this headmaster is, I am not impressed. I’d gladly add his skull to a nice little display in Mina’s honor. My lips curl into a silent snarl at the thought. She stands her ground, letting out a low, threatening growl that makes my entire shell tremble. My female is fearless, and the pride that floods me is nearly overwhelming. She has claimed us, and she refuses to entertain any contradiction.
Abraxis, her dragon mate—yes, I recall his name now—warns the Headmaster not to push her. I sense the volatile energy between them; the Headmaster’s arrogance could very well lead to his own scorching. The mere fantasy of his charred remains makes me rumble with amusement, though no one can hear me inside this egg.
Abraxis talks of ancient rites, and he’s correct. We ignite; it’s how she claims us. Yet they prevented her from taking Thauglor that first time, which only adds to my disdain for the Headmaster. I catch the arrival of another male in the nest, his voice smooth, diplomatic. He tries to calm the situation—why would he do that? Torch your enemies and sort the bodies later. Then I realize: he’s a basilisk, like the Headmaster. My mate was clever to bring one into the nest.
Mina shifts away from Abraxis, and I feel a ripple through the bond—sharp worry, like a knife twisting in my gut. She mentions she’s immune to the basilisk’s gaze and venom. Only a green dragon could boast such an immunity; they are yet another faction at odds with Thauglor and me. Could she be the one the prophecy speaks of? The one to finally set us free?
Moments later, exhaustion tugs at me. I sense when Mina drifts off to sleep, still clutching our eggs. She is unbelievably good to us. Perhaps Bahamut favors us at last. Her mate gently wakes her, and I hear her introduce him to Thauglor as she oncedid for me. I can only hope Thauglor will be just as tolerant of this young male as I have been; he isn’t a bad drake, just inexperienced. But he adores our female, and for now, that’s enough.
He touches my egg, and I pick up his rumbling concern. Mina is being stubborn about eating. My fury flares so fiercely that the shell feels hot against my forehead.‘You must eat, my mate! You need your strength!’I shout into the void, knowing Thauglor’s thunderous insistence joins mine.
At last, she relents, the bond humming with her decision. A wave of relief washes over me, and I listen to the faint scrape of dishes, the soft murmurs of conversation. They talk about the next gauntlet for Shadowcarve while she finally takes nourishment. She delegates a task to the black dragon—cleaning her trophy. Perfect. My mate is not only fierce; she’s cunning. A slow grin curves across my lips. Even bound within this egg, I can sense the brilliant future she’s forging for us.
Chapter Nine
The daysbleed into each other, their passing marked only by the subtle shifts in my mate’s mood and the low hum of her heartbeat echoing through our bond. Darkness is all I know now—this egg prison that seals me away. The shell walls press in on me with a constant, clammy pressure, the curved surface cool and unyielding against my scaled skin. Sometimes I swear I can feel my breath echoing back, like a faint wind trapped in a bottle.
I sense her—Mina—bustling about, attending classes that rouse her mind and spirit. She carries both of our eggs with her, whispering, telling us about a world we can no longer see. Apparently, she’s added another mate to her growing nest—a gargoyle this time. A wise choice. Gargoyles are nearly indestructible, vital protectors. When she’s ready to lay her clutch, his strength will guard our offspring.
Through the bond, I catch fragments of her day, like disjointed images in a haze. Pride warms my chest when I learn the academy for war and politics—my father’s dream and mine—still thrives after all this time. The realization sends a prickle of fierce satisfaction through me. I imagine the ancient stone walls,the clang of steel in the training grounds, the electric charge of cunning minds strategizing. My vision—our vision—lives on.
I listen to my mate during her art of war class. Her tone is decisive, each word brimming with confidence as she relays her plan to the gargoyle. Then a strange noise reverberates through her surroundings, crackling in a way I can’t identify. My heart lurches at the change in her breathing, but it remains calm. There’s a brief wave of pleasurable energy, a ripple of confusion—her voice quiet and perplexed. “That’s a glitch,” she murmurs, and then a soft laugh follows. She’s solved whatever it was. Relief settles over me like a calming breeze.
Their discussion shifts to the basilisk, and I feel the faint tug of recognition in my chest. It’s distant but unmistakable. I know the creature well—know what it can do, the danger it poses. He’s masking himself from her. Perhaps he has his reasons for concealing his true nature; it isn’t my place to reveal him unless the nest is threatened.
When Mina admits her dragoness wants to bring a prey animal into the bond, my thoughts sharpen. A new potential mate? The idea kindles an unexpected curiosity. What manner of creature would tempt her so strongly that her dragoness seeks to claim it? The puzzle intrigues me more than I care to admit.
Eventually, Mina’s mood shifts. She goes silent, tension gripping her as though she’s holding her breath. I sense a quiet fear, the dread of harming this male who matters to her. A pang of jealousy flares inside me, but it’s dulled by the confinement of this shell. If he is valuable to her, I must accept it—for the good of our nest.
The eggs wall feel colder than before, or perhaps I’m imagining it. My senses are trapped, limited to the ebb and flow of Mina’sbond. Still, her steady heartbeat remains my anchor, reminding me I’m not truly alone. I just hope, when I finally emerge, I find her safe and our nest intact.
Mina tellsus about the nest she hatched in. An unknown enemy destroyed it, but she isn’t sad—she’s furious she wasn’t the one to crush it herself. I sense her malice through our bond, a simmering heat that coils in my chest. Her father deserves no less than being mounted on a pike for her to strike at will.
I shift slightly inside this egg prison, the slick interior walls pressing against me. The faint glow of our bond is the only warmth I know, pulsing like a heartbeat in the otherwise dark void. I can feel the moment Mina slips the carrier off her shoulders. She hands us—my egg and Thauglor’s egg—to another presence. It’s the gryphon. His energy crackles differently, more airy and vibrant than hers.
Mina’s voice resonates through the bond, cool and commanding.‘I need you to watch over Klauth and Thauglor. Keep their eggs safe like you would keep me safe.’She instructs him, then speaks to someone else, telling them to get us far from the battle.
When she shifts, a surge of ancient power ripples along my egg’s shell. It’s like a tremor in the air, causing the egg walls to hum against me. My mate is so much more than she seems. The knowledge comforts me, even as her next act—sending us away—pulls me into slumber. Darkness closes in, muffling my awareness.
Suddenly, a flood of horrifying visions tears through the bond. I jolt as my senses ignite with my mate’s memories, memories she’s kept buried. They surge like a raging river, too swift and too cold. I see flashes of torment—hands that hurt her, voices that belittled her, the terror in her eyes. Rage thrums in my blood. I want to raze every kingdom in existence so she will never feel worthless again.
Then I witness her death. My breath—or what passes for breath here—catches. My heart, my core, twists. Her fairy dragon familiar resurrects her, stitching her soul back into her body. Moments later, she summons us. She holds me up, introducing me to figures I can’t fully see—faces blurred, voices muffled. She does the same with Thauglor, cradling our eggs protectively. I sense her warmth, her heartbeat, a steady rhythm of reassurance. Then she hides us beneath the vast canopy of another dragon’s wings, leathery and alive with heat.
More images crowd my mind. I realize she’s a seer—a veil walker. Dying only strengthened that gift. Each vision is as vivid as if I’m gazing through her own eyes while she paints them in living color. One in particular stands out: I watch myself, fully formed, rending her father’s body in my talons. The satisfaction in my chest is almost tangible, a fierce drumbeat of triumph. Thauglor and another dragon—her other mate—stand high in the mountains, guarding her nest. And in the distance, a Nightmare, and a gargoyle—one she calls “prey animal”—are bound to her as well.
Sleep tugs at me again, but before I succumb, I reflect on how valuable our mate truly is. A dragoness with the power to walk the veil, to foresee futures in such startling clarity … Let these whelps understand her worth. I let the darkness claim me, drifting into the depths of this egg prison. My last thought isa silent promise to keep her safe—and to relish the moment I finally break free to wreak havoc on those who dared to hurt her.
Mina has been gone mostof the day. Though I am confined within this egg prison, I still sense her excitement through our bond whenever she speaks. The subtle hum of her voice resonates against my shell, making the cramped interior feel a little less oppressive. She tells us it’s her birthday, and her nest mates are taking her out to celebrate. I can almost picture her bright eyes and flushed cheeks as she recounts every new sensation and taste—exotic foods, bustling markets, temples filled with incense that cling to her clothing, and, most intriguingly, the healing springs she discovered still exist.
I remember those springs well. The memory of their mineral-rich air and the gentle steam that once curled around my scales drifts through my mind. After countless battles, I would fly to those waters, my wings aching and singed, and sink into their warmth. It was solace in a world forever on the brink of war.
Apparently, the one Mina calls Ziggy is a displacer beast. The thought piques my curiosity. His species often commands a measure of respect, and perhaps fear; he would make a fine addition to her nest if she decides he’s worthy.
