Page 35 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy, Year 3)

Mina

I think that in the last twenty-four hours; I have been in each of my mates’ beds at least twice.

I stand by the window of the spare bedroom, watching as the sun sinks slowly below the horizon, painting the sky in deep hues of crimson and violet.

Tonight is that one day—every three years—when diplomatic immunity is lifted.

A soft laugh escapes my lips as I run my fingers over the smooth, cool surface of the special leathers Vox made for me.

The black leather drinks in the fading light, its texture as silent and unforgiving as a corpse.

I remind myself that four fire drakes, plus Arista, have caused me enough trouble already. They will hunt me as fiercely as I plan to hunt them.

“Are you ready?” Vaughn and Callan stand at the door, their voices low and expectant.

“Almost. I still have a few things to grab.” I reply as I leave the spare room and step into what used to be my room.

The familiar scent of aged wood and leather mingles with the cool evening air as I root around in the steamer chest at the foot of the bed.

It’s a massive weapons cache I’ve built up over time, not to mention the spoils from my raids on hidden caches around the campus.

I load my leathers with ten throwing knives, along with my dual short swords, a gift from Ziggy.

While rummaging, I find my handheld drow crossbow and secure the bolts into the forearm bracer designed for it.

“Can I help you?” Abraxis enters the space, holding up the tape I use on my horns. His tone is calm yet probing.

“Sure, start at the tips, then wind down to the base,” I instruct, closing the trunk and settling onto its worn surface.

The leather creaks softly beneath me as Abraxis carefully wraps the tape around my horns.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a miniature map of the campus, its creased edges a testament to many nights spent studying it.

“Remember, you cannot shift fully—partial is allowed,” Callan reminds me while flipping through the rule book.

His voice carries a weight of authority as he recites, “The containment area is the campus; no one is allowed to leave. Anyone caught outside is automatically thrown into the dungeon to be sentenced at a later date.” He looks up, and I nod in understanding.

“Gotcha. I’m going to go get into position.

” I slip the hood over my horns and tie my mask securely into place.

Approaching the mirror, I retrieve a small pot of black paint and carefully coat the skin above the mask, the bristles of the brush whispering over my skin.

Balor steps in then, spraying me with a scent-neutralizing mist that carries a crisp, almost clinical odor.

“You know we can’t help her during the purge,” Callan interjects, his tone laced with caution.

“The purge hasn’t started yet. The sun is still up,” Leander says from the doorway, his silhouette framed by the last light of day .

“So technically, I could ask Ziggy to drop me somewhere as long as the sun is up?” I arch a brow, glancing at Callan, who is a stickler for the rules.

“Technically, yes…” He arches his brow over his empty eye socket as he scrutinizes me.

“Excellent! Ziggy, we’re burning daylight—let’s go!” With that, he grabs hold of me, and we phase onto the roof of the Aurelian Conservatory.

“Why here?” Ziggy whispers, his voice soft and full of curiosity, as I nudge him into the shadows.

“I can see both the Northern and Southern Dorms from here. It will be easy to spot them moving about,” I explain, pulling down my mask momentarily to kiss him.

I press him against the wall, my black leather concealing him in the dim light.

A soft purr escapes his lips as his hand finds the small of my back, drawing me flush against him.

We break apart slowly, our eyes lingering on one another. I kiss him once more before spraying myself with a small bottle of scent neutralizer. “I love you,” I whisper, the words almost lost in the rustle of night.

“I love you more,” he replies with a wink before vanishing from sight.

I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the lingering warmth of his affection—a happiness that always seems to cling to Ziggy.

When I open my eyes again, a steely, predatory focus takes over.

I pull my mask back up, secure my hood in place, and slide on my black gloves.

Keeping to the shadows, I find the best possible vantage point to watch the campus, every sense alive to the night’s sounds and scents.

All I need now is for the sun to set completely and for the games to begin.

The last light fades over the mountains, and the bells toll, signaling the beginning of the purge.

Students burst from the dorms, their hurried footsteps echoing along cold stones as they scatter in search of hiding places.

Some have already started to hunt—faces twisted in feral determination.

They kill anyone who dares come too close.

I watch my guys and several others leave Malivore, heading toward the teachers’ housing to wait out the purge.

The only ones I don’t see emerging are the fire drakes.

I creep along the roof of the Aurelian Conservatory, my boots barely whispering against the cool slate.

I make sure no one else has dared to follow the brilliant idea I had.

My eyes shift over to my dragons as I take in the scene below.

The frantic shuffling of students, the ragged breaths mingling with the chill night air, and the scent of fear and smoke that hangs heavy in the darkness.

It feels like an eternity before the first fire drake slinks out from the northern dorms. Serra steps into the gloom and immediately slashes at the first student who crosses her path, her blade catching the meager light.

I reach back into the pouch at my lower back and extract some fresh poison I harvested today.

Monkshood, otherwise known as wolf’s bane—contains aconitine, a potent neurotoxin and cardiotoxin.

I dip the tip of an arrow into it, then load it into my mini crossbow.

When Serra pauses, I take my shot. The arrow finds its mark in her abdomen.

I watch, impassive, as she crumples to the ground clutching the deadly shaft.

Her agonized cries reverberate through the night, drawing Graham to her side.

I quickly dip another arrow in the monkshood tincture and fire again—this time nailing him squarely in the ass.

The muted thud against his flesh is confirmation of my precise aim.

I keep low, shifting positions to maintain a perfect line of sight, and then scale a small tower.

My back presses against the cold stone as I watch, every sense attuned to the unfolding chaos.

Serra dies quickly, the combined effect of the neurotoxin and cardiotoxin halting her heart with ruthless efficiency.

Graham, having been hit in the muscle of his ass, will endure a slower, more agonizing end.

Soon, Cillia emerges, her steps tentative in the chill night as she investigates alongside Demi, who follows not far behind.

They find their nest mates lying dead outside the northern dorms. Their mistake was looking low, on the ground, instead of up, where the actual threat lingers.

Across the dorm, I see Arista leave, heading south toward Malivore. Vaughn, technically is not a student this year after losing his amulet, has taken refuge with the guys at the teachers’ housing, waiting for the madness to subside.

A question pulses in my mind. Do I hunt Arista, who is alone at the moment, or pick off these two fools from up here? I decide—I’m going after Arista. After all, I’d like the second half of my year to be easier than the first.

I sprint to the back of the building, my heart thundering in my ears as I press my body against the cool, rough stone.

I dig my talons into the weathered surface and scale the wall with a steady, determined grace.

Once on the ground, I crouch low, every sense alert.

I listen to the distant echoes of footsteps.

The rustle of leaves in the chill night air, and the soft hum of the city beyond.

I make my way to the tree line, running along its edge while staying within the boundaries of shadow and light.

The crisp scent of damp earth mingles with the faint odor of burning wood, a reminder of last night’s bonfire.

I crouch low once more, watching the chaotic scene unfolding around me before I sprint toward the Malivore building.

My gut churns with unease. I know Arista is headed for my suite.

Whether she’s hunting me or one of my guys, it spells trouble.

Using my talons again, I scale the stone face of the Malivore building.

My fingertips grazing the cold, rough surface as I ascend.

I perch on the roof for a moment, the cool night air nipping at my skin, and listen intently.

Seconds pass as I soak in every sound — murmurs of conversation, even the soft scuffle of my breath—before I continue along the roof until I am directly over my balcony.

Inside, I hear movement. I hang upside down at the glass door, my eyes straining in the dim light, and watch as she moves inside my suite.

The sound of her deliberate steps sends shivers down my spine.

The moment she heads down the hall toward the back rooms, I drop silently and ease the door open.

I slip into the suite, slide the door shut behind me.

Quietly, I hit the breaker just inside the pantry in the kitchen, plunging the apartment into darkness.

I count my heartbeats in the silence before she returns to the main living space.

A flicker of movement draws my attention—a small ball of fire dancing over her hand, casting eerie shadows that stretch like claws across the walls.

With every step she takes, I move in tandem, silently positioning myself for the kill.

I toss an empty can into the living room; its clatter distracts her just long enough.

When she turns, illuminated by the pulsating glow of the flame, I step forward.

Her face pales under the fiery light as I raise a single finger to pull down my mask. “You stole something from my mate … I want it back,” I murmur, my voice low and dripping with menace. I study her panicked eyes as they dart around the room.

Without warning, her hand dives into her pocket, and she slaps an amulet onto the nearest table. “There. I’ll leave now,” she stammers, attempting to push past me. I block her path, my nails shifting into deadly talons as I slide my hand up her throat .

“That’s not what I want,” I purr, stepping behind her as the door to my suite swings open and Demi enters with Cillia.

“What do you want?” she whispers, motioning for her nest mates to halt.

My talons press against her soft throat, and I feel her pulse pounding like a frantic drum beneath my fingers.

“The time I lost with my mate, back,” I reply.

In a swift, brutal motion, I pull back hard and fast, nearly severing her head from her shoulders.

Blood erupts, splattering in a macabre arc as she crumples to the floor.

Before Demi and Cillia can react, I hurl my knives with precision. They sink deep into the sockets of their eyes with a sickening, wet thud. Their bodies collapse just inside the door, and I arch a brow, a bitter smile curling my lips as I survey the carnage.

‘Mate, are you okay?’ Klauth’s voice echoes in my mind, and I allow myself a small, triumphant smile.

‘Yes, tell Vaughn I have his amulet. We’re not living here any longer—the stains will never come out of the carpets,’ I remark, my gaze lingering on the blood-soaked floor.

‘ The stains?’ Klauth’s tone is teasing, and I can’t help but laugh.

‘Yeah … I killed Arista in the kitchen. Demi and Cillia ended up with blades in their eyes in the living room. Now I need to drag the bodies out into the hallway,’ I explain calmly, starting with Cillia’s limp form.

‘Three out of five—not bad, mate,’ Klauth’s pride resonates in his words.

‘Serra and Graham are dead outside the northern dorms. Five for five,’ I add as I move Demi next in to the hallway. I pause, scanning the corridor for any sign of pursuit, before returning to drag Arista’s body out last.

‘I shall tell the others. I can’t send Ziggy to you—it’s against the rules. You still need to come and record your kills,’ Klauth’s voice drones, almost bored in my mind .

‘Will do. See you soon,’ I reply. I step back into the apartment and scatter baking soda over the blood on the tile, watching as it soaks in and helps blot the crimson stains. On the carpet, I pour peroxide, silently praying it won’t leave a permanent mark.

Before leaving, I slip out into my poison garden, the scent of decaying vegetation and toxic blooms thick in the air.

I retrieve Thauglor’s egg with careful precision, nestling it into the single leather carrier I carry.

Then I return to the kitchen, grab Vaughn’s amulet, and slip it into my pocket before locking up and departing the suite.

I claim my trophy and walk down the hall, heading to exit Malivore and meet up with my mates.

I leave my talons exposed as I navigate the dim hallways of Malivore.

When one student charges at me, I simply raise my empty hand, and they falter, eyes widening before they turn and run back the way they came.

The journey, which feels like it should have taken days, consumes the better half of the night.

I recall my mother’s words with a dark chuckle.

Time flies when you’re having fun. Tonight, I have five fewer enemies to worry about.

Now, with only two remaining, I wonder how I’ll handle them when the time comes.