Page 70 of Progeny of the Cursed Egg (Dragonis Academy, Year 3)
I know this must be frustrating, but I need you to have patience.
We need to know who all is involved in what’s happening at the academy.
There are several things I haven’t seen: why you can’t sense me and who on the staff is helping Lysander.
We suspect Isobel, but have no proof. Listen for Thauglor. When you hear him, unleash Balor.
I love you,
Mina
I stare at her words, the paper heavy in my hands, the ink slightly smudged where her pen lingered too long. My throat constricts as I pass the letter to Balor, watching his expression darken like the gathering storm clouds above us.
“This is fucking insane!” he hisses, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. A vein pulses prominently at his temple as he thrusts the note towards Klauth. The paper crinkling in his white-knuckled grip .
“Our mate has a plan,” Klauth says, his voice measured but tight with strain as he motions across the bay to the ruins of his former home.
The broken stones rise like jagged teeth against the horizon, dark and forbidding.
“I just hope it doesn’t backfire on her.
Ziggy, please get us over there, just in case we need to move quickly. ”
Ziggy nods, his face grim. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below intensifies as we approach the ruins, the stone path slick and treacherous beneath our feet.
Each thunderous collision sends tremors through the ground, as if the sea itself tries to breach the ancient barriers that separate it from the crypts below.
The setting sun casts its last rays through the broken arches of the ruins, painting everything in a bloody glow that makes the shadows seem alive and writhing.
In a matter of moments, we find ourselves standing before the gaping maw of the tunnel entrance.
The damp, musty smell of the earth fills my nostrils, mingled with the metallic scent of minerals seeping through the stone walls and something else—something older and more primal that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
Droplets of water fall rhythmically from the ceiling, each one striking the ground with a soft, hollow sound that echoes through the darkness, like the ghostly footsteps of those long buried beneath our feet.
“If she’s in the catacombs, it will take some doing to dig down to where she is,” Klauth says, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air. The tunnel before us seems to swallow all light, an abyss of darkness stretching endlessly downward.
“I can find her,” Balor declares, his voice rough with determination. The muscles in his jaw work beneath his skin as he stares into the darkness, shoulders tense and coiled with pent-up energy.
“I know you can.” I reach out, resting a hand on his shoulder, feeling the hard knots of tension beneath his jacket.
His skin radiates an unnatural heat, fever-hot even through the thick fabric.
Balor’s gaze meets mine briefly, his eyes reflecting the dim light like a predator’s, before dropping to the ground.
A small muscle twitches beneath his left eye, betraying his barely contained fury.
“Klauth, can we send him down to watch from the shadows, just in case she needs him sooner?” I glance at Klauth, my hand still on Balor’s shoulder, feeling the slight tremor running through him.
My mouth tastes bitter with anxiety, heart hammering against my ribs so hard I wonder if the others can hear it.
“Do it,” Klauth commands, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Balor, get down there and do whatever is needed to keep Mina safe until Thauglor can get to you.”
It’s as if a fire has been lit beneath Balor.
He shifts immediately, his form melting and transforming before our eyes.
His skin ripples and hardens, taking on the scaled pattern of his basilisk form.
The sound of bones cracking and reforming fills the air as his face contorts, jaws extending to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth.
Within seconds, the man is gone, replaced by the massive serpentine form of his basilisk.
The creature slithers into the dark opening of the cavern leading to the catacombs, scales scraping softly against stone as he disappears into the shadows.
The rhythmic sound of his powerful body moving deeper into the darkness fades, until all I can hear is the steady drip of water and my own ragged breathing.
I watch as he vanishes completely into the darkness, a knot of unease tightening in the pit of my stomach. The air feels colder suddenly, raising goosebumps along my arms beneath my sleeves.
“What’s that look for?” Abraxis asks, moving closer, his boots scraping against the rocky ground. His brow furrows with concern, deep lines etching themselves around his mouth. The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something sharper, more primal—wafts toward me as he leans in.
“I feel like we should be doing more,” I confess, kicking at the loose rocks at my feet.
They skitter across the stone floor, the sound echoing off the walls like tiny gunshots.
My fingers flex and curl at my sides, nails digging half-moons into my palms. “Standing here while she’s in danger is torture. ”
Abraxis sighs, his gaze fixed on the tunnel that swallowed Balor. His breath mingles with mine in the cold air. “Trust me, we would be if it weren’t for Lysander being a basilisk in a small containment area. The odds of being turned to stone are very high in this situation.”
I nod, understanding the danger, but it does little to quell the restless energy thrumming through my body.
The taste of fear is metallic on my tongue, my mouth dry despite the dampness of our surroundings.
The weight of Mina’s absence feels like a physical thing, a hollowness beneath my ribs that aches with each breath.
All I can do is hope that Mina’s plan succeeds and that we’ll be reunited with her soon.
The alternative is too painful to consider.
I press my palm against the cold stone wall, feeling its ancient strength, and send a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening: Bring her back to us.
Outside, the last sliver of sun disappears beyond the horizon, plunging the world into twilight.
The waves crescendo against the cliffs in a deafening roar, as if announcing the coming of night.
Standing here, with tons of earth and stone between us and the crypts below, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re merely scratching the surface of something vast and malevolent—a darkness that has waited patiently for centuries, and now stirs at the presence of Mina in its domain.