Page 23 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy, Year 3)

Leander

I inhale the thick, briny air blowing in from the Sea of Whispers, the salt tang clinging to my lips and the back of my throat.

Despite the darkness of the hour, the moonlight glitters across the water, illuminating our path along the damp sand.

It’s been five days since Abraxis went to the temple of Bahamut to declare our nest, and I haven’t been able to shake the lingering sense of dread.

The thought of stepping into a dragon god’s temple is enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

We leave Malivore’s torch lit perimeter and walk along the shoreline toward the bridge that leads to the temple.

Each of us moves in tense silence, our footsteps muffled by the cool, packed sand.

Wind ruffles my hair, carrying the distant crash of waves and the faint scent of kelp washed up on the shore.

It’s comforting in one sense, but also eerie.

With the moonless sky above and the hush of night wrapped around us, I feel like we’re walking into some ancient, forgotten ritual.

As we pass the instructors’ housing—an imposing three-level structure with windows shimmering faintly from within—Mina looks at each of us, puzzled. The ocean breeze tousles her hair, and I catch the slight furrow of her brow by the pale glow of the floating orbs that line the path.

“I don’t think any of you lived in there. Or am I wrong?” Mina motions toward the night-dark house perched on the shore.

“You’re correct,” I reply, my voice low. “We either stayed in our rooms at Shadowcarve, or when new students arrived, we used to babysit in the northern dorms. Young dragons are temperamental.” My words echo in the stillness as we near the footbridge to the temple.

“I’m glad to see the old bridge has been maintained all these years,” Klauth remarks. He runs his hand over the weathered stones, and I hear the soft scrape of his palm against the coarse surface.

“It had to be partially rebuilt about ten years ago after a horrible storm,” Abraxis points out, showing the newer section where the stones are much lighter than the original masonry.

I can almost imagine the fierce winds and pounding surf that must have torn through here, the chaos that left part of this bridge in ruins.

We cross under an ancient arch that leads us onto the bridge proper.

It’s several hours after sunset, and we have everyone in the nest with us.

Vaughn stands slightly apart, gazing warily at the structure stretching out over the dark water.

I sense the ripple of unease in the group; non-dragon shifters aren’t usually allowed in the temple.

There’s a collective tension in the air—like a coil wound too tight.

We ascend the gleaming white marble steps, which reflect the faint starlight and cast strange shapes along the ground.

The chill of the stone seeps through my shoes, and a shiver traces up my spine.

Finally, we reach a broad landing marked by ornate golden doors.

Abraxis knocks three times, each rap echoing in the silence.

I catch the faint smell of incense drifting from within, a sweet, smoky scent that mixes oddly with the brine in the air .

“Why do I feel like we’re about to be put on trial?” I whisper, my voice hushed, as though something in this sacred place demands quiet. My shift moves uneasily under my skin, muscles tightening in response to the unknown.

“Because we are,” Klauth answers. His voice sounds heavier here, absorbed by the thick marble walls. “Mina will be separated from us once we prove our bloodlines. While she’s separated, she’ll be asked to summon a mate at their request. As long as she can do that, most of the bond is proven.”

“Most of the bond?” My brow furrows, and I look between the three dragons. My heart thuds in my chest, sending adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Beyond who I am, they will ask to test my connection to Mina.” Abraxis’s gaze flickers to her, and she nods in confirmation. There’s a heaviness in their shared glance, like some unspoken fear.

“What else?” My stomach churns, the tension drawing tighter.

“They will ask who the dragoness set as the dominant drake.” Mina pales, stepping back into Ziggy’s arms. The subtle scent of her anxiety—something faintly electric—reaches my heightened senses. “You cannot escape the process,” Klauth continues. “If you do, they will not validate the bonds.”

I study Mina’s face, noticing the flicker of indecision before she speaks.

“Abraxis and I talked about it.” She sighs and drops her gaze.

“We’re still working on our issues, and if they test us, we’ll fail.

So Klauth will be named the dominant drake in the nest.” She bites her bottom lip so hard I see a bead of blood bloom there, and the metallic tang wafts faintly through the air.

“I know that was a tough decision, Mina. I am proud of you for doing it logically,” Callan says, his reassuring smile a brief balm on her nerves .

I watch Mina’s reaction. She’s clearly torn about disappointing both Abraxis and Klauth.

Before any of us can say more, the golden doors swing open with a creak that seems to reverberate through the night.

A priestess in long white robes stands before us, torchlight glinting off the polished marble corridor behind her.

“Follow me, please,” she whispers, then turns and strides inside. The echo of her shoes on marble clicks like a metronome, punctuating each step deeper into the temple.

Mina clings to Ziggy’s side, her tongue flicking out to taste the blood on her lip.

Five sets of footsteps echo through the corridor, though Mina, Balor, and Ziggy move so silently that only the faint rustle of cloth betrays their presence.

The priestess glances over her shoulder, ensuring we’re all still following, then leads us into a grand chamber.

Solid onyx pillars rise on either side, holding up a ceiling lost in shadows.

Torches set in ornate sconces cast flickering orange light across black marble walls.

Each pillar is engraved with intricate carvings of ancient dragons, their snaking forms frozen in stone.

The carvings shimmer with faint flecks of gold, and I catch the distinct smell of old incense mingled with a hint of burned wax.

I notice the depiction of the Goddess Tiamat, her dragon form eerily similar to Mina’s.

Klauth, walking beside me, also stops, glancing back at our mate, his features set in a mask of concern and curiosity.

Nine priestesses stand on a set of stairs leading up to the massive statue of Bahamut, their white robes stark against the darkness.

“The dragoness needs to step forward,” the elder priestess says, her voice echoing around the cavernous space. She takes a measured step down from the line, the other priestesses parting to let her through.

Mina moves without hesitation, raising her chin defiantly.

Klauth follows, gently removing the shawl that had covered her shoulders.

The summer dress she chose reveals the shimmering scales across her skin—ridges of pearlescent color that catch the torchlight.

They trail from her shoulders up into her hairline, an unmistakable sign of the strength of her dragoness.

If needed, they can pull down the back of the sundress to show how far the scales extend.

The elder priestess circles Mina like an art collector examining a masterpiece, her gaze lingering on each patch of scales.

I hear the faint rustle of her robes against the polished floor, and the air feels heavy with impending judgment.

The cut of Mina’s dress also exposes the mate bites each of us has left on her, the small crescent scars shining faintly under the shifting light.

A hush falls over us as we wait for the priestess to speak again.

My pulse thrums, and the cool air of the temple seems to press in on all sides.

Though I can barely breathe, I force myself to remain still, my gaze locked on Mina.

Every sense is heightened—every sound, every flicker of light—and all I can think is that the next few moments may define our fates forever.

The polished marble floors reflect dancing torchlight, casting flickering shapes across the ancient stone walls. I catch a faint hum of distant chanting—priestesses praying, perhaps—though the hush in this chamber is almost tangible, as if the space itself is waiting for a verdict.

“Who is the dominant drake?” the elder priestess asks, her voice echoing in the stillness. The timbre of her words resonates against my chest, sending a slight quiver through me.

“Klauth,” Mina says without hesitation.

“Klauth is imprisoned, never to take to the skies again,” the priestess asserts confidently, her tone reverberating in the silence.

“Yet I stand before you,” Klauth says calmly as he moves beside Mina and raises her left hand. The soft rasp of their clothes brushing together makes my pulse spike. “My mate wears the signet ring of my family as proof of who I am. ”

The priestess takes Mina’s hand. I hear the faint clink of her ornate bracelets as she lifts Mina’s fingers toward her gaze.

She snaps her own fingers, and the sudden sound makes me jolt.

A scribe steps out of a dark corridor—his footsteps tapping lightly on the stone floor—carrying an immense tome bound in cracked leather.

The pages rustle as the priestess flips through them, the dry whisper blending with the quiet flicker of torches.

She brings Mina’s hand closer to the book.

“The ring is the signet ring of King Klauth Ragnar, the high king of the Marzana Empire.” I watch torchlight dance across the polished gold of the ring.

The priestess and her companion lower themselves to one knee, the metallic echo of jewelry touching stone sending a sudden chill through me.

My heart pounds in my chest at the implications.

Klauth has exposed himself so the nest can be verified—taking a significant risk by doing this now.

The tension in the air is thick enough that I can almost taste it, a metallic tang against the back of my tongue.

The priestesses all bow to Klauth and now Mina as well.

“Please rise. Let us finish what we have come here to do.” Klauth extends his hand to the elder priestess. The material of his dress jacket rustles softly when she accepts, and he helps her to stand.

“My future queen, what is the name of the drake that sired you?” the elder priestess asks, turning to Mina. I sense Mina’s hesitation before I see it. There’s a subtle stiffening in her posture, and I notice the small scales shifting at the back of her neck, a sign of her discomfort.

“Abaddon Bladesong of the Risedale nest,” Mina says, her voice clipped and tense.

“And the female that bore your egg?” The elder priestess tilts her head, and the scribe’s quill scratches faintly against parchment as he readies to transcribe her response .

“Layla Laraunt of what was the Tyr nest. She was the last female born of the iron dragons there,” Mina answers quietly, her weight shifting nervously. A waft of the musty air moves past us, carrying the subdued scent of old ink and parchment.

“Yes, it was sad what happened to that nest,” the priestess says under her breath, as if recalling a distant tragedy. She steps away from Mina and moves to Abraxis. Her robes sweep the floor with a soft, dragging sound that sets my teeth on edge. “Who is the drake that sired you?”

“Vox Havock of the Blackhaven nest. The female that bore me is Cerce Aslaug of the Freyja nest. She is a bronze dragon–red dragon mix,” Abraxis replies, bowing slightly. The torchlight catches the proud tilt of his jaw, illuminating the faint gleam of his obsidian wings and horns.

I notice the priestess doesn’t question Klauth’s lineage—no one dares to doubt the legitimacy of a legendary line so long thought dead. A hushed reverence hangs in the air at the mere mention of his ancestry.

“Very good. I will take the female with me. My priestesses will take each male and separate you from each other. They will gather all the needed information, and then you wait for Mina to summon you to prove the bond.” The elder priestess gestures for Mina to step forward, but Mina remains rooted in place, her gaze locked on Klauth.

I can almost feel her trepidation rolling off her like a wave of heat.

“Go with her, my treasure. You will be safe.” The minute he speaks, she nods, a subtle relaxation in her stance, and then moves to follow the priestess. Her footsteps are soft but resonate in the hush as she departs, the tension in the room easing just a fraction.

Klauth steps closer to us, his voice a low rumble. “They were testing if her claim of me being the dominant drake was true. Thankfully, she waited for me to tell her it was safe to follow them.”

A wave of apprehension twists my stomach.

I know everything from here on will be a test of our nest’s strength.

The priestesses approach, dividing us with purposeful steps.

Each of us looks at Klauth, waiting for his nod of approval.

When it’s my turn, I bow to him—heart still pounding from the surging adrenaline—then follow the priestess down a dimly lit corridor leading to places unknown.

The scents of damp stone and ancient parchment accompany me, along with the echo of my own uneasy footsteps.