Page 9 of Klauth
I force myself to listen—hoping, fearing, longing. There is nothing. No new footsteps. No voices. Not even a whisper. My muscles tremble as I cling to the last remnants of sanity. The curse is a double-edged blade. It keeps me alive while chaining me in eternal darkness. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by my racing heartbeat.
Exhaustion soon overtakes me. My anger simmers for a while, but the fear of never escaping eats at it like acid. How many times must I drift into fitful sleep, only to awaken in this claustrophobic prison? My eyelids grow heavy as the oppressive shadows blur my world.
I do not know. Numbness creeps over me, pulling me into a black void of sleep. My thoughts spiral into nightmares of endless captivity. I wonder if I will ever see light—or feel the warmth of another being—again. The taste of despair is bitter on my tongue.
I surrender to the darkness. It is the only mercy left to me.
I wake to voices again.I wonder how long I have slept. It feels like centuries since I last opened my eyes. I haven’t had a coherent thought in ages. A female voice drifts into the dark chamber. It is soft and melodic, like an angel whispering against cold stone. My prison is cramped and oppressive. The heavy walls of this egg press against my limbs and horns. The stale air burns my nostrils.
Then I sense her presence. A dragoness. Her essence hums through the shell—a deep thrum that echoes in my bones. I feel her power coil around mine, seeping slowly through the cold barrier. Her energy warms the chill in my confinement, gentle yet insistent. Tension builds inside me until it bursts forth in a low, resonant pitch that rattles my core. Her intent washes over me: desire, strength, promise. Her song swells, filling the silence of my long imprisonment. Every fiber of my being vibrates in response.
“Mate…”I hear my dragon’s voice for the first time in countless lifetimes. This female is ours—whoever she is. My claws scrape the rough inner wall as I pound on the hardened barrier. The sound echoes in the hollow space, a frantic rhythm of my longing.
My heart pounds with exhilaration and desperation. I am so tired of this suffocating darkness. The mages forced me into this egg. They turned me into a weapon with no say in my fate. Now, hope flares like lightning in my chest—an escape, a mate who might set me free.My pulse roars in my ears as I cling to that fragile spark.
I project my longing into the silence. ‘I accept you,’I send out with every shred of desire.‘I am yours to command. My queen, come and claim me!’I press my taloned hand against the icy shell. My jagged nails dig in, feeling every imperfection. The chill of the shell sends shivers up my spine. I lower my horned head, willing the barrier to yield under her touch.
Voices drift in again. I catch fragments—talk of my shell and a black egg igniting for her.Thauglor is here too?My pulse spikes at the thought. He is trapped in this nightmare with me.Can she choose both of us? Please, take us both.
Then her voice sounds—close, warm, almost tender. “Thank you for choosing me,” she whispers. Relief floods me.She chose me.I rumble a deep, contented purr—a vibration that travels through the shell. I imagine it reaching her, carrying my gratitude and endless relief.
A male voice cautions her, I have never chosen anyone. He is right. No one has ever stirred me from this cold, unyielding prison. No one but her. His words remind me of my endless solitude.
My breath trembles as I focus on the faint warmth of her hand pressed against the shell. The memory of torment and captivity tightens my chest. For the first time in this claustrophobic darkness, I am not alone. She reached out, and I reached back. With each passing moment, my fear ebbs away. Hope replaces it, fragile but persistent. I cling to that hope, even as the walls press in, counting every heartbeat until she finally shatters this prison and calls me hers.
Chapter Eight
I achewith an icy dread that seeps into every scale still forming beneath this shell. The egg I’m trapped in—this prison the mages built—feels suffocating, like the thick air can barely slip into my lungs. I can’t see my surroundings, but I sense movement outside; I hear my mate’s voice, low and urgent, rising in sharp conflict with a male’s. I can’t make out every word, but the tension in her tone prickles across my skin even within this barrier.
She presses me close to her body, and I cling to the sound of her heartbeat. It’s my only tether to the world beyond this cramped darkness. One steady thump after another. I count them, noticing how my shallow breaths fall into rhythm with hers. Each inhale is a relief, each exhale a reminder that I’m still conscious—still alive in this confinement.
When she shows me to another presence—a male who seems to recognize me—my heart stutters. I flinch at his words: “Klauth never chooses anyone.” I want to roar and deny that, but my voice is swallowed by the egg. My mate answers him, excitement threading her tone as she describes how I ignited for her. Howmy fire will burn so bright the stars will dim in comparison. Despite my fear, her faith in me brings a surge of warmth. I long to break free and see this remarkable female who speaks of me with such reverence.
Suddenly, the egg jolts, and a crackling sensation shoots through me. Lightning. It thrums in the air, traveling along the shell as if drawn to my mate’s rage. Iron dragons have mastery over lightning, but they were once sworn enemies of my kind. The realization knots my stomach. Is she part of that lineage? It’s part of the conditions of breaking the curse…
She keeps me clutched tight while talking about her plan to build a nest in Malivore. Even through my disorientation, I catch fragments of her strategy. She’s pulling together a diverse group—someone adept at escaping, another skilled in poisons, and yet another who can detect lies. The cunning of her choices sends a strange mix of pride and unease through my chest. I hate she has to plot so hard. Females should be cherished, not forced into treacherous scheming just to survive.
Her voice drops, trembling, when she mentions the demons her father planted in her mind. He taught her to be dangerous, a weapon. Fury churns inside me, a blazing heat that radiates off of my scales. No father should do that to a daughter. The very thought of him makes me vow to tear his head from his shoulders, to mount it on a pike for daring to twist her into someone she wasn’t meant to be.
She speaks to a reluctant mate—he must be a fool not to see her worth. My chest constricts again, reminded of my plight. I worry he’ll push her away, and I can feel how that possibility weighs on her. Fear is sharp in her voice now, making my breath hitch. She’s anxious, and it tugs at me like a physical tether.
Sometime later, a new male says something about the reluctant one not joining her yet. Anger coils in my gut. I’ve decided I already dislike this absent mate, though I’ve never laid eyes on him. His hesitation puts her in distress, and that’s enough to earn my scorn.
The walls of this egg remain unyielding. I drag in a stifled breath, heart pounding with both anger and desperation. What if the mages have crafted a perfect prison? What if I can’t escape to stand by her side? The darkness around me presses in, and I dig my claws against the shell in vain, longing to break free. Until then, I wait—each moment feeling like a century—haunted by the fear that I might forever remain just a voice in the dark.
Everywhere my mate goes,I seem to go with her. I hear the others call her by a name. Mina … Her mate, that is another dragon from what I can sense, also treasures her, so he’s not bad.
She talks to what sounds like a gentle male. The way she says my name and calls me mighty makes my scales puff up in pride. I send my affections through the shell, hoping it’s doing something she can feel. Perhaps the start of the tether of the mate bond can happen while I’m trapped. I feel her relax. Apparently, she feels me. This alone gives me hope.
I remain confined in this shell, a prisoner of mage-crafted barriers, yet I’m content as long as I can sense her presence. Her voice filters through the dense layers of my prison, muffled but comforting. She speaks to me constantly, describing her day andupdating me on every whisper of activity around us. There’s a gentle vibration on the surface of my egg when she lays her palm against it. In these moments, it feels as if we’re truly connected—my mind stirring with every soft brush of her fingertips.
She mentions the Shadowcarve gauntlet she must run today, and a ripple of tension courses through me. I can’t see her, but I imagine her determined expression. My chest—whatever semblance of a body I have left—tightens with worry. A soft laugh escapes her lips, and the smooth shell reverberates with that gentle sound. She introduces me to her fairy dragon familiar, promising the little creature will guard me. Though the notion of relying on another for protection grates on my pride, I begrudgingly accept. At least she isn’t leaving me unshielded. As soon as her hand slips away, exhaustion floods me, and I drift into sleep.
Time blurs. Later, I stir when her touch returns, instantly recognizable by the warmth that seeps through the shell. Excitement crackles in our bond. She won the gauntlet, and there’s a surprise for me. Another pulse of energy sparks against my prison—the distinctive presence of another egg. Thauglor. I sense his consciousness swirl around mine, familiar and reassuring, like a long-lost brother. We share wordless greetings; I let him know everything I’ve learned about our mate since my awakening. I can feel his anticipation matching mine, a low rumble of satisfaction echoing in his thoughts. My Mina is his, too, and together we vow to protect her.
Her voice breaks through the shell again, animated as she recounts the trials she faced in the gauntlet. She battled an ambush drake—a female who’d stolen Thauglor’s egg. Pride flares within me when she boasts of bringing back its head asa trophy, proof of her victory and devotion. I sense her fierce spirit, and it sends a pulse of warmth through my shell.
One male in her nest—his voice is distant, more echo than clarity—questions her plans for Thauglor and me. Mina responds without hesitation, declaring that she’s keeping both of us. A primal satisfaction surges through me. Two black dragons and a red in her nest will provide an unbreakable defense.
