Page 6 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy, Year 3)

‘ Tears of joy. I will bring you a fang from my kill.’ Determination sharpens my senses. My dragoness roars in approval inside me, that raw power sizzling through my bloodstream.

I push my body as close as I can to a partial shift without breaking any rules.

My bones vibrate under the strain, scales pricking at the tops of my forearms. Cupping my right hand, I let sparks of lightning jump between the tips of my talons.

The faint crackle hums in my ears; the surrounding air thickens with the sharp tang of ozone, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

Lightning arcs wildly as I widen the space between my talons.

With a snap and a hiss, I reach out and set the webs on fire. The acrid smell of burning silk and tiny fibers hits my nostrils. Wisps of smoke coil upward, stinging my eyes.

I watch the fire race across the sticky strands, spreading through the entire room with a hungry crackle.

High-pitched shrieks slice the silence, echoing from somewhere on the far side of the room and the adjoining hallway.

My pulse pounds in my ears. As the flames clear near the opening, I strike again, unleashing another spark to burn any remaining webbing.

Cautiously, I climb out onto the floor, drawing the two short swords from my back.

My scales fuse across my hands and forearms, creating rough gauntlets that shift and clack softly with my every movement.

Dust motes swirl in the smoky air. Silent as a wraith, I prowl forward, my eyes shifting to my dragon’s vision—everything in sharper focus, the corners of the room bathed in faintly pulsating shadows.

Six of those spiders are in here somewhere. The air seems thicker with their presence, each breath tinged with a mix of stale cobwebs and fear-sweat. I have two options: slip away unseen or wipe them out. A third option floats in my mind—kill only what I need to—more practical, less risky.

A tapping sound echoes around me, nails or legs scratching across the stone.

My heart beats like a war drum. The glint of a cluster of eyes draws my attention.

Without hesitation, I tuck one sword under my arm and pull a throwing knife.

The cool metal in my fingers steadies me as I take aim.

I let the blade fly, catching a spider dead in its glistening eye.

A shriek reverberates, followed by the heavy thud of its body hitting the floor.

The smell of spider ichor, a mix of brine and decaying leaves, wafts over as it spasms once, then goes still.

Its carcass lies in a corner thick with soot-stained webbing.

I crouch beside it, blackened blades at the ready.

Another spider scuttles into view, tapping its shorter front legs.

Perhaps they rely on vibrations more than sight.

My heart hammers as I draw another throwing knife and send it straight into the creature’s jaw.

No scream this time—only a fleshy thunk and a final twitch.

I’m sorry, but I need these. I whisper inwardly, feeling a pang of guilt as I use my short sword to hack free both fangs of the spider I’m crouched behind.

Its exoskeleton cracks under the blade, and the damp sound makes my stomach churn.

I slip the fangs into the pouch on the lower back of my leathers, ignoring the dark fluid that seeps across my hands.

‘ How are you, mate? Abraxis is losing his mind out here,’ Klauth says calmly, his words a soothing counterpoint to the brutal scene around me.

‘ Two spiders down, four to go. I’m going to sneak out.’ I feel a swell of pride through the bond, warming me like a gentle ember in the cold.

‘ Solid plan, mate. I’ll let the hatchling know, so he settles down.’ Klauth’s voice carries a hint of teasing, and I almost choke on a laugh. If I didn’t need to be silent, I’d be giggling at Abraxis’s expense.

‘ That makes me a hatchling, too. This is my twenty-third summer coming up.’ My mind’s voice is a near whisper, as if the spiders could sense the tremor of sound.

‘ Wait, why can I only talk to you like this?’ A flicker of curiosity darts through me. I can’t communicate with Abraxis in this way.

‘ Great wyrm status grants us gifts. In time, you will have access to more because you’re my mate and Thauglor’s.’ Klauth’s tone puffs up with that faintly arrogant warmth I’m starting to associate with older dragons. I roll my eyes, uncertain if I find it charming or irritating. Possibly both.

I press my back against the rough-hewn wall, inhaling slowly as I weigh my next step.

The taste of adrenaline lingers, coppery and bitter on my tongue.

Smoke curls in the corners, and the echo of distant tapping keeps my nerves on edge.

I have to stay focused—four more spiders, or a clean escape.

One misstep, one whisper too loud, and that paralyzing venom will be the last thing I ever taste.

Every few moments, a cool draft filters in from the hallway behind me.

The rest of this place smells like damp stone and old rot, so the clean edge of fresh air is an unsettling contrast. I’m guessing the remaining spiders are out there.

My gaze flicks around the cramped room, trailing over the cracked walls and the silvery webs glistening in the faint light.

I need to be absolutely sure nothing’s waiting to pounce on me from behind before I move on.

Once I’m convinced the room is clear, I push forward. I grimace at the tacky spider ichor clinging to my fingers and the scales covering my hands and forearms—it’s thick, warm, and has a faintly sour odor that sets my teeth on edge.

I climb the wall, pressing my booted feet carefully against the chipped paint and splintered wood until I reach the beam suspended near the ceiling.

The slight groan of the timber beneath me sends a shiver up my spine.

Two more spiders lurk beneath the exit, their spindly legs shifting in the corridor’s dim glow.

That’s only four in total. ‘ Are you sure there’s six? I count four.’

A tense silence follows, broken only by the blood pounding in my ears. ‘Zigmander just checked the roof—it’s clear. If you only see four down there, I believe that,’ Klauth’s voice comes through, low and calm. I resume moving, my breath shallow with anticipation.

I inch forward, methodical and quiet, ensuring my talons sink into the wood without a sound.

Dust swirls around me with every shift, and a faint mustiness invades my nostrils.

Below, the two spiders scuttle down the hallway.

Maybe they’re searching for the ones I already dealt with.

Whatever they’re doing, I don’t have time to wonder.

The moment I’m in position, I punch through the flimsy hatch overhead.

Brittle wood cracks under my fist, raining splinters across my shoulders.

Dragging myself onto the roof, I suck in a lungful of cool night air, tasting relief on my tongue as I rise to my feet.

I head toward the edge and ring the bell.

Its metallic clang reverberates in my bones, echoing across the academy grounds.

A shrill screech slices through the night behind me, and my muscles coil with raw adrenaline.

The spider launches itself in my direction, claws scraping against the roof’s uneven tiles.

I can feel its hot, fetid breath even before I see the gleam of its too-many eyes.

Instinct takes over—I draw both swords, metal shrieking as it slides free.

My first strike shears off four legs on its left side, ichor spurting in a sticky spray that spatters against my armor and scales.

I pivot and drop into a low crouch, chest heaving.

The spider shrieks again, trying to pivot toward me despite its severed limbs.

Not giving it a chance to recover, I spring forward, lifting my blades overhead.

When they come down, I drive them through the hardened area behind its eyes.

The impact jarring up my arms as steel meets chitin and the roof beneath.

My heart thrashes in my chest as I back up, watching the spider’s body convulse in its death throes.

Blackish ichor seeps from the ragged stumps of its legs and pools around my embedded blades.

The acrid stench curls in my nostrils, and rage burns in my gut.

I tilt my head back and roar my fury into the swirling wind, a primal sound that carries every ounce of my hatred for these cursed creatures.

“Mina?” Ziggy’s voice cuts through the haze, soft yet urgent. I turn, still keyed up with battle-lust, but relief flickers through me at the sight of him manifesting by my side.

“I lost the swords you gave me,” I say, gesturing to where they remain lodged in the spider’s skull.

Ziggy’s gaze follows mine, and he nods grimly. “I’ll get them back later. Let’s get you back to the guys. We’ve been worried sick.”

He opens his arms, and I allow myself to sink into his warmth. My pulse drums in my ears as the world blurs, the scent of spider ichor and the ringing of the bell fading into nothingness.