Page 3 of Guardian of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy #2)

Mina

Callan wasn’t exaggerating when he said this year’s gauntlet is bigger. The massive structure looms ahead of us, its towering form shaped like a sprawling X. I squint at the sharp angles and shadowed recesses, trying to make sense of it. “How does it work?”

As we approach, Callan gestures to a heavy door at the base.

“You go in there and take the lift to the top floor. At the top, you’ll have four directions to choose from.

” He exhales deeply, his jaw tightening.

“Then you fight your way down to one of the exits.” He points to the visible bases of the two descending arms of the X.

“There’s a catch,” Vaughn mutters, eyes narrowing as he watches a student disappear through the entry. His tension pulls at the tether between us, faint but unmistakable.

“Several,” Callan confirms flatly. “Live dangers, spells, and traps. Plus, moving floors and walls.” He rattles off the list of hazards like he’s reciting from a manual, no emotion in his voice .

Anipe sits at the registration table, scrawling names onto her ledger and handing out draw tickets. Her icy gaze flicks up when I approach. I let a polite smile touch my lips. “Willamina Havock.”

Her quill pauses mid-stroke, and she does a double take before nodding slowly. “It’s unusual for a female to forgo her family name.” Her tone is neutral, but her words twist something bitter inside me.

“Neither is it prudent to carry the name of an abusive male.” My voice hardens, and I suppress the urge to snarl. Just saying the word “father” in my mind sets my blood boiling. “His name dies with him.”

Anipe’s lips twitch, perhaps an attempt at understanding, but she says nothing more.

“As last year’s winner, you can enter whenever you’re ready.

” She hands me a golden ticket, the weight of it familiar in my palm.

Without another word, I turn and walk away, leaving Callan and Vaughn to sort themselves out. I need time to study this monstrosity.

As I make my way toward the gauntlet, Leander sidles up beside me. His easy grin and relaxed gait are a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in my chest. “Weighing your options?” he asks, bumping his shoulder lightly against mine.

“Something like that,” I reply, scanning the mechanical behemoth. A series of clicks and whirrs echoes through the air, the sound of shifting parts within. “Where’s Abraxis?” I can feel him—his tether pulling faintly, strong and deliberate—somewhere inside the labyrinth.

“Wing three,” Leander answers smoothly. “He’s one of the obstacles on that path. If you take it.” His grin widens like he knows he’s letting slip something critical .

I stop, turning to face him. “Good to know.” The edge in my tone isn’t lost on him. His grin falters just slightly, but I’m already moving again.

Climbing up onto one of the low walls overlooking the gauntlet, I perch myself like a hawk surveying prey.

My eyes trace the lines of the structure, and I tune out the distant buzz of students and spectators.

The whirring and clacking inside the gauntlet draws my focus.

I close my eyes, my breath steadying, and try to summon a vision—anything that might give me an edge.

This isn’t just about winning. It’s survival.

And I don’t plan to lose. Several visions flash through my mind like a reel of chaotic memories, each one sharper than the last. One loops over and over, etching itself into my thoughts—the female ambush drake from my earlier vision, her scales glinting with a dull menace.

She’s in the first wing of the gauntlet.

The same ambush drake that stole the black dragon egg.

If I can defeat her—or kill her—the path to reclaiming the egg will be far less treacherous.

Everyone knows a female guarding an egg fights with unmatched fury.

But she’s not on her nest, which means that searing, protective rage isn’t clouding her instincts. That gives me an edge.

I leap down from the wall, holding up my golden ticket so Lysander can see I’m next. His voice falters mid-announcement as his eyes meet mine. He nods, but his hesitation is palpable. “Are you sure?” Callan’s voice cuts through the air as he runs up, blocking my path.

Without answering, I pull him into a tight hug, pressing my lips to his in a brief but fervent kiss.

As I draw back, I cup one hand over my mouth, shielding my words from prying eyes and ears.

“The female that stole the egg is in the first wing,” I whisper.

“I’m going to kill her before she hunts me down instead. ”

I smile, a hint of feral determination curling my lips, and wink at him. Before he can argue, I turn and stride toward the door, each step a vow. The heavy door groans as I push it open, the shadows beyond swallowing me whole.

Today will not be a good day to die…

The dim light in the lift flickers as it groans upward, casting erratic shadows that make the enclosed space feel smaller.

The damp air clings to my skin, sending a cold, crawling sensation down my spine.

I focus inward, shifting the delicate scales beneath my armor to cover my vital organs, wrapping them like a second skin around my throat and neck.

The lift halts with a jarring clang, and when the doors scrape open, Balor is standing there, his arms crossed, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of me.

“You’re earlier than we expected,” he says, voice low and threaded with concern.

“I’m going hunting,” I reply, tugging my hood back and adjusting the mask over my face until it fits just right.

“Same as last time,” he warns, the only caution he’s permitted to give me. His hand gestures toward the numbered doors lining the corridor. “Which path are you choosing?”

I don’t hesitate. Without a word, I stride to the first door, shove it open, and drop into the black void beyond.

The air shifts as I descend, my vision shifting seamlessly into my dragon’s sight.

The pit is oppressive, shadows swallowing the edges of the space, but the glowing aura of danger ahead sharpens my focus.

Scanning the room, I note missing floor panels and steel bars crisscrossing at varying heights and distances.

The bars glimmer faintly, warning me of heat or current.

Drawing a leather strap from my belt, I snap it against one of the bars. It hisses and blackens instantly. Heated and electrified. Good. That means they’re not making this easy.

Crouching, I study the floorboards. Some edges are slightly raised, others just a fraction darker—traps for the unwary. I step carefully, testing each foothold, weaving a path across the hallway. When I reach the other side, I pause, heart pounding.

Too easy.

A flicker of movement to my left triggers my instincts. I duck just as a blade whistles through the air where my head had been. The attack is too close to be random. My lips curl into a grin beneath my mask.

This is going to be fun.

The walls are smooth, but that’s no challenge for me.

Flexing my talons, I dig into the surface, climbing with practiced ease.

My feet and hands find purchase on opposite sides of the corridor as I press my body against the walls, spider-walking high above the ground.

The corridor stretches ahead, littered with traps below, but none of them touch me here.

I move sideways, quiet and calculating, every muscle coiled for the next strike.

Another door looms before me, but it’s not alone. Above the frame, an opening gapes like a silent warning. I stay perched, hands and feet braced against the rough stone walls, keeping my body suspended off the ground. My gaze flicks to the hole above the door .

Through it, I see her. The female ambush drake, her sleek black form pacing, her movements predatory and fluid.

Son of a bitch. My chest tightens as my eyes land on the dark gleam cradled beneath her claws on a pillow.

She’s smart enough not to touch it. The black egg.

She brought it with her. Dread curls like smoke in my lungs, suffocating for a moment.

This was already bad, but now? It’s about to get a hell of a lot worse.

I exhale quietly, forcing the tension out of my muscles.

Climbing down the wall, I reach the door, fingers steady as I test the knob.

I ease it open just enough to let a sliver of light spill into the hallway.

The drake’s snarl echoes a moment later, and she charges, her claws scraping against the stone floor as she lunges toward the sound. Perfect.

Silent as a shadow, I climb back through the hole above the door, pressing my body close to the wall.

From my perch, I watch her prowl beneath me.

Her movements are sharp, her attention fixed on the hallway.

My heart pounds in rhythm with the adrenaline coursing through me. No traps that I can see. Just her.

When her back finally turns, I drop to the ground, my landing soft but deliberate.

The moment my boots hit the floor, she whirls, her jaws snapping at the air where I was a second ago. I don’t hesitate. My hand flies to my side, and in one smooth motion, I pull my knife free and throw. It spins once before sinking into her shoulder with a sickening thunk.

Her roar of pain is deafening, and for a split second, I savor the sound. But then she charges, her yellow eyes blazing with fury, her massive frame bearing down on me like a nightmare come to life .

She breathes fire, and I barely roll out of the way in time.

The heat sears my armor, and I can feel the raw energy of her rage.

Part of the gauntlet is now ablaze, her fire spilling out of the room and into the hallway beyond.

The difficulty setting was deadly before, but now it’s as if someone cranked it up to Hell-on-earth mode.

Partial shifting only. That’s the rule here, and it means I can’t use my breath weapon.

She knows it too—counted on it. I grit my teeth as she lunges, another torrent of fire ripping toward me.

I leap, hitting the ground in a roll, and as I come up, I hurl another knife at her opposite shoulder.

My aim is steady, my intent clear: sever a tendon, hit a nerve, make one of her legs useless.

The blade strikes, but not deeply enough. Her roar of pain vibrates through the air, and my dragoness picks this exact moment to s ing. What in Bahamut’s name does she think she’s doing? This is not the time.

The ambush drake snarls and lunges again, fire igniting the room in waves. I leap, throwing two more knives mid-air. One hits its mark, embedding deep in her rear leg. She collapses slightly, that limb going limp. Her movements falter, her lunge broken.

Blood pools on the floor now, slick and treacherous for both of us. I adjust my footing carefully, not trusting the slippery surface. Then I see it—a pulsing glow out of the corner of my eye. The black egg . It’s responding to the song. My dragoness’s song.

Her voice resonates in my mind, a haunting melody of vengeance. Vengeance against my father. Against this female who dared steal his egg. Her song speaks of Klauth, of the bond we share with him. There’s a promise of freedom in her melody, a promise edged with wrath and ruin .

The egg glows brighter, and I feel a cold certainty settle in my chest. If I live through this, I’ll have not one, but two cursed eggs bound to me.

The weight of that reality presses against my thoughts, but I don’t have time to dwell on it.

Not now. Not with fire, blood, and death circling me like a storm.

She lunges at me, a feral snarl ripping through the air.

I wait, steadying myself, calculating her movement, but this time my timing is off—just slightly, but enough.

Her teeth sink into my upper thigh, and a scream tears from my throat, sharp and raw.

Pain explodes through me, but I don’t hesitate.

I drive my short sword through the top of her skull with a brutal, decisive force.

Her body goes limp instantly, collapsing at my feet.

Gritting my teeth, I carefully pry her canines from my thigh.

Blood pours out, dark and hot, and I curse under my breath.

I’m so lucky she didn’t snap the bone. Reaching up, I strip the tape from my horns and press it firmly to the wound, staunching the bleeding as best I can.

One gift from my mother is quick healing—a blessing or a curse, depending on the situation.

I close my eyes and focus, willing the process to work as fast as it usually does.

When the bleeding finally slows, I force myself to my feet, pain stabbing through me with every movement. My gaze falls on the cursed egg, still faintly glowing, almost pulsing with life. “Thank you for igniting for me again,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”

Without hesitation, I reach out and pick up the egg.

Its warmth hums against my palms, a strange vibration that courses over my skin.

Carefully, I tuck it into the small leather pouch sewn into the lower back of my armor.

The moment it settles, the humming intensifies, washing over me like a soothing balm.

The pain in my leg lessens, just slightly, but enough to make me wonder if the egg is helping me heal faster .

Glancing around, I take in the scene—flames licking at the gauntlet, the charred remains of the beast at my feet. There’s no turning back now . The only way out is forward. The gauntlet is burning, the air thick with smoke and ash. If I stay, I’ll die here.

I press a hand to the pouch, feeling the egg’s steady hum beneath the leather, and take a shaky breath.

I have to finish the gauntlet.