Page 7 of Klauth (Dragonis Academy, Year 2.5 #3)

Chapter Seven

I circle high above the Blue dragon nest. My wings slice through the frosty night air.

I watch Thauglor spew acid onto everything below.

The cold wind bites at my scales. A stench of rotting eggs and burning metal drifts upward.

Buildings and creatures disintegrate under the corrosive spray.

My stomach churns. Yet something about this attack feels off—a subtle dread lingers.

Thauglor roars. The sound rattles my bones and sends shivers along my scales.

It signals me to strike. I fold my wings and dive.

The wind shrieks past my ears. My chest tightens with adrenaline.

I unleash my fire. The surrounding air ignites and scorches the ground as I pull up.

Then a torrent of magic slams into me. It feels like a thousand electrified ropes lashing around my body.

They twist, burn, and bind me in a searing grip.

Below, the mages shout in unison. Their voices echo, vibrating the night.

Sparks of brilliant gold and violet energy whip across the sky like scattered embers.

Desperate, I hurl my breath weapon. I sense their shields falter under the intense heat.

When their power wavers, I tear free. My heart hammers against my ribs.

Thauglor and I bolt away. We skim along the rugged coastline.

The salt wind stings my nostrils, and I taste brine on my tongue.

Staying close to the water cloaks us in darkness.

Waves rise like towering walls. They slap our chests and force us to fight for balance.

My wings ache with every beat. Cold sea spray blinds me with its sting.

The dim glow of sunrise creeps over the horizon.

My compound emerges from the darkness. Anxiety clenches my gut.

I stay silent, not wanting to attract attention.

Near the half-finished construction site and the central tower, nothing stirs.

The oppressive stillness claws at my mind.

I circle once, scanning the area. I motion for Thauglor to return to his nest. If something waits for me, I will face it alone.

I refuse to drag my friend into my doom.

I angle toward the upper level of my dwelling.

I prepare to shift back to human form for a silent landing—but my body does not cooperate.

Terror floods me. My muscles burn as I fight a transformation that will not happen.

Thauglor’s distant roar confirms he, too, is trapped in his dragon form. Panic gnaws at me. We are being hunted.

I brace to take flight again. The courtyard arches fill with hooded figures in dark robes.

They are mages. Their eyes glimmer with triumphant malice.

They chant in a harsh, grating language that sounds like stones grinding together.

My limbs seize. Every tendon screams as unseen forces bind me.

Thick ribbons of shimmering energy coil around my legs, wings, and neck.

A tightening ring cinches my jaws, forcing them shut.

I thrash wildly. My heart pounds as if it might burst. The more I struggle, the tighter the bands become.

My lungs heave. Every desperate breath burns, and fear spikes through my veins like ice.

“Silly dragon, thinking you’re stronger than us…” The lead mage steps forward. Moonlight glints off his silver blade as he slices a scale from my leg. A searing pain shoots through me. My roar is choked by the band over my maw. I taste copper as he holds the bloody scale like a trophy.

“I bind you, Klauth, to a prison of my choosing,” he intones. His voice reverberates with cold power. Sparks of violet crackle along his fingertips. “Never to kiss the sky again. I curse you, Klauth, to be trapped in an egg until Underverse comes.” I feel despair wash over me.

I watch in horror as the torn scale multiplies and warps.

Each shard twists into a jagged piece spinning in midair.

They knit together, forming a small dragon’s egg that pulses with an eerie glow.

“I curse you, Klauth, to remain a prisoner of your own desires,” the mage continues.

His eyes reflect an unholy light. “Your freedom is denied until a rare female from rival dens comes for you. Your pride will be your undoing. A mate like that will never be born.” His words cut deeper than any blade.

Bile rises in my throat. My fear twists into crushing dread.

The air tightens around me, crushing my lungs.

Each breath is a struggle. My body feels like it is unraveling—bones compress, muscles shrink, and every fiber cramps in agony.

My vision blurs. Swirling fragments of glowing scales dance around me in a macabre whirl. They glow with a sickly light.

I try to roar, but it comes out strangled. The mage’s laughter fills my ears. “I hope you enjoyed your last flight,” he sneers. “History will say you went mad, lost to your dragon, and became a danger to all. No one will ever claim your egg, even if it ignites for them.” His words echo in my ears.

The spinning shards converge, closing in until all I see is their blinding brilliance.

A final circle of light vanishes with a soft click.

I am plunged into total darkness. The restraints melt away, and I can move again—but there is nowhere to go.

My talons scrape the smooth interior. The sound is a sickening screech that sets my teeth on edge.

My mind reels with claustrophobic terror. The egg’s walls vibrate with each ragged breath. They mock me in this tight, unforgiving prison. I cling to a faint hope that the mage’s death might break this curse. But how long do humans live? A century, perhaps? That thought offers little comfort.

Resignation weighs on me like a tombstone. There is no escape. I do not know how long I will remain sealed away from the world. My heart thuds dully, fear crawling beneath my scales, while exhaustion seeps into every fiber of me.

I close my eyes. There is nothing else to do. Sleep beckons, luring me from this crushing reality. In the darkness, I drift, clinging to the hope that someday the curse will break and I will feel the sky beneath my wings once more.

I wonder how long I’ve been trapped here.

Days? Weeks? Months? Maybe centuries. Darkness surrounds me.

I hear only faint, muffled echoes of voices beyond my prison wall.

Their sound is distant yet haunting. The oppressive dark clings to my skin like damp cloth, and a chill runs through me at the thought of those unseen figures—so close, yet impossibly far.

I cannot tell whether to hate their presence or cling to it for a shred of hope.

“Welcome to the cursed egg chamber,” a voice declares. It reverberates off the hard shell around me like distant thunder. By whatever vile curse binds me, I hear it as if the speaker stands right beside me. I feel the vibrations ripple through my confines.

A female voice then instructs, “Call to the eggs. If one ignites, it is yours to take until it hatches or falls dormant.” Her tone is practiced and commanding. It churns my gut with a bitter resentment that I can almost taste.

Again and again, they come. Their words blend into a low, droning hum—some chanting, some praying, some babbling nonsense. Each new set of footsteps makes my heart lurch. I cannot see them. I cannot fight or flee. I can only endure. Anger festers in me like an open, raw wound.

Then someone announces they are picking me up.

I tense. Every sense sharpens to a razor’s edge.

I feel a sudden tug through the shell—a surge of vitality that makes my chest constrict with desperate hunger.

I draw it in. Did I just consume that fool’s life force?

Horror and relief twist in my gut. At least this curse lets me survive in this abhorrent prison.

The room falls silent. A door slams, its sound echoing through the oppressive stillness.

Time drags on. Each second feels like an eternity.

My own breath thunders in the suffocating space.

Loneliness crushes me. My chest aches, and panic threatens to tear me apart.

I long to scream, but only ragged silence escapes me.

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.