10. Abraxis
Abraxis
Hearing Mina willing to leave to protect my betrothed makes my heart stop cold in my chest. The weight of her words settles over me like a heavy cloak. She’s willing to give up her freedom, her dreams, for a female she believes she’ll never meet. I watch her as she leaves the room, already preparing for whatever grim future she thinks lies ahead. I can’t let this stand. With a quick scribble, I send Rebel with a note for Lysander, requesting his immediate presence. There’s a discussion we need to have, and time isn’t on our side.
Ziggy breaks the tension first, his eyes trailing towards the door Mina just walked through. “How did you get so lucky to get such a selfless female?” His voice is laced with admiration, but all I can do is shrug.
“Not sure. Bahamut must favor the wicked this year,” I say with a smirk, trying to mask the unease coiling in my gut. He gives me a nod before turning to prepare for the core assessment. The challenge looms ahead, but my mind stays tethered to her, to the impossibility of what she’s willing to sacrifice .
“She’s not a typical green, is she?” Callan’s voice pulls me back to the present. He’s standing by the window, observing as the challenge takes shape below. His gaze sharpens, fixed on Mina, who stands at the edge of the course, her eyes calculating, analyzing every single detail. I swear I can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, each thought perfectly placed, her focus so intense it’s palpable.
“Is partial shifting allowed?” she asks, tilting her head as the course comes to life, its mechanisms whirring and clanking in motion.
“Claws or talons only, nothing else,” Ziggy responds, his tone clipped as he scans the gathered class. “Who wants to go first?” He spreads his arms wide, inviting them to choose their fate.
A male wyvern steps forward, brave or foolish. Ziggy leads him to the start, and within moments, the course swallows him whole. The sounds that follow are violent—whirring gears, heavy metal colliding—and then the unmistakable spray of blood. Mina doesn’t flinch. Instead, her head cocks slightly to the side, eyes narrowing in scrutiny as she watches the aftermath, studying the course like it’s a puzzle she’s already half-solved.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” I murmur aloud, though the question is more for me than for her. She paces, calculating, no doubt running through every outcome.
“Wondering why the hell I am here.” A familiar presence approaches—Lysander. His handshake is firm, but his eyes are drawn immediately to my mate. “Ah, what’s happened now?”
“Besides Arista making false claims that I’m hers and trying to leverage it in the school, along with the daily attacks on my mate?” My voice drips with sarcasm, but my eyes never leave Mina. “Not much. ”
Lysander’s gaze flickers, sharpening. “I’ll handle Arista,” he says, but his attention shifts quickly back to the class below. “I thought six passed.”
“There were six. A male tried to kill Mina yesterday,” Callan begins, but Lysander cuts him off with a raised hand.
“Enough said,” he murmurs, his gaze locking with mine. “You protected your mate.” His words hold a finality, one that I meet with a nod.
“Next!” Ziggy’s voice rings out, and my chest tightens as Mina steps forward. I glance at Callan, and he’s clearly in the same boat, looking like he’s about to bolt. My heart is pounding in my throat, making it hard to swallow, like someone’s stealing the very air from my lungs. The tension in the room thickens with each passing second.
Mina stands at the entrance of the gauntlet, her eyes fixed on the shadowed opening. Another scream cuts through the air, and Ziggy vanishes for a heartbeat, only to reappear with a limp student in his arms. The tension pulls taut, and Mina lowers her hood, a reflex from years of training. She doesn’t waste a second—her hands snap down, and silver talons gleam from the ends of her armored fingers. I catch a glimpse of the scales running up her hands, emerald green streaked with silver, catching the dim light.
There’s no timer. No limit on how long she can stand there, and yet it feels like she’s waiting for something, watching, calculating. The air feels electric, like we’re all bracing for something. Then, without warning, she throws herself into the gauntlet, and I see Ziggy flinch. I grip the windowsill so hard I hear the wood creak, feel it crack beneath my fingertips.
Every sound from the course grows louder. Each hit, each grind of metal, echoes in my bones. My nerves scream with every second that passes. I can’t take it anymore—I bolt, flying down the stairs and out into the yard. I need to be closer, need to see her. If something happens to Mina, I’ll tear this course apart with my own hands if I have to. My pulse is roaring in my ears as I feel Lysander and Callan closing in behind me, ready to hold me back if necessary.
And then, suddenly, everything goes silent.
My head whips toward Ziggy. His hands shoot up defensively. “I didn’t do it.”
“Is that supposed to happen?” Lysander’s voice is tight with confusion.
“If the course is completed... I think so.” My own words barely register as I move faster toward the far side. “Where’s the exit?” I call over my shoulder, anxiety twisting tighter with every second of silence.
“Up here.” Her voice cuts through the quiet like a lifeline. My gaze snaps up, and there she is—Mina, perched on the edge, casually swinging her legs. She climbs down the side of the course, talons anchoring her as she makes her way to the ground with ease.
“Dad’s course at home is way worse.” She pats my shoulder, a smug grin playing on her lips. “Today wasn’t a good day to die, I guess.” Mina strolls over to a stone wall, casually sitting down like she didn’t just walk through a gauntlet designed to break people.
The remaining two students gape at her, slack-jawed. Lysander leans in close, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “How did she do that? You four were the last ones to pass this course without getting hurt.” His eyes dart between me and Ziggy.
“Maybe there’s more to Abaddon’s training than we know,” Callan murmurs, his voice low and uncertain .
I can only nod, still processing what I’ve just seen. That’s two gauntlets Mina’s walked through like it’s a leisurely stroll. My mind races. What kind of monstrous course did her father have her run every day? What kind of life did she live that made this feel … easy?
The courtyard feels heavier after the last two students collapse, their pained groans lingering in the air as they’re carted off to the healer. I shift my gaze to Mina, who stands alone, unscathed and looking... utterly bored. She doesn’t even flinch, as though the surrounding chaos is nothing but white noise.
“What weapons have you trained with?” I ask, already suspecting the answer. Greens favor stealth, striking from a distance, usually with daggers or crossbows. I’ve seen her with a hand crossbow before, so I can only assume.
“Which ones do you have?” She tilts her head at me in almost a challenge. She hops to her feet with an unsettling ease just as Balor arrives, listening in.
“What does who have?” he asks, his eyes darting from me to the blood-soaked gauntlet, then back to Mina. His expression screams. How the hell did she pass this?
“Weapons. Abraxis asked what weapons I’ve trained with. I asked him which one’s does he have.” Mina accepts a bottle of juice from Callan, but before drinking, she pauses, sniffs at it, and gives him a side-eye. “Really? Already trying to poison me?” She rolls her eyes and downs the entire bottle in one smooth motion.
We all lunge at her, shouting, “No!” But it’s too late.
“We have to get you to throw up. Then we’re heading to the healer.” I move to grab her, but she effortlessly evades my grip, side-stepping as though she’s done this a thousand times .
She fixes me with a look that’s almost condescending. “I took after Dad. I’m immune to poison. It’s the only reason he allowed me to become a shadowblade.” Her gaze shifts to the racks of weapons lining the courtyard, while I just... stare.
“Immune?” The word stumbles out of my mouth, my brain lagging behind what she’s just said.
“Yes, immune. I’m also immune to acids and most fire.” A laugh, dark and twisted, escapes her lips, though she tries to look innocent. “Best of both worlds. Dad was smart, choosing Mom as his female. I took the most important traits from both parents.”
I glance at Callan, whose jaw has practically hit the floor. “What?” I grab his shoulders, shaking him, demanding answers.
“Think about it,” Callan breathes, eyes wide. “Iron dragons are immune to things greens aren’t, and vice versa. She’s got the coloring of a green, but her scales... her scales are as hard as an iron’s. She’s as lethal and cunning as a green, but as logical and pragmatic as an iron.”
The pieces snap together in my mind like a trap closing. If they had a son... he would’ve been a weapon of mass destruction. But Mina... Mina is more. “Female dragons are bigger...” I say aloud, the words heavy with realization.
Callan, Ziggy, and Balor freeze, processing the implications.
“He created a war machine,” Lysander mutters as he turns slowly, his eyes locking onto Mina like she’s a ticking bomb.
“I almost feel sorry for the first person who pisses her off when she can shift,” I say, a genuine smile tugging at my lips for the first time in what feels like an eternity .
Almost.
In my mind, I count down the days to her twenty-first birthday. It can’t come fast enough.
Fingers snap in front of my face, and I blink down at Mina, her fiery eyes locking onto mine. She’s smirking, that same reckless spark dancing behind her gaze as she hands me a sword. “Gonna stare, or are we going to spar?” Her laugh is sharp, almost teasing, as she glances around the training yard. “Looks like class is over for a bit, or it’s going to end up being one-on-one training for a while.” There’s a certain edge to her voice that makes my stomach tighten. I can feel the weight of her challenge. The next few sessions might push us both to the brink.
I grit my teeth, remembering the letter her father sent me. That bastard wasn’t exaggerating. The grueling training, the relentless drills he put his daughter through—it was all true. She’s not just skilled; she’s a weapon. I grip the hilt of my sword and swing first, testing her reflexes. She’s quick, faster than I expected, and each time our blades meet, it’s like a jolt of electricity shooting through me. Every time the steel sings, every time the blades dance, I lose myself to her a little more.
We move in sync, anticipating each other’s attacks and counters. There’s an intensity between us, a growing rhythm that pulls us closer with every strike, every parry. She watches me, eyes flicking over my movements, studying me like I’m a puzzle she’s determined to solve. I can almost feel it—an unspoken tension humming between us. It’s like she’s feeling the beginnings of the bond, the fragile thread connecting us, though she might not understand it yet.
Only four more weeks until her twenty-first birthday. Four weeks until she might sense it on her own, if I can keep her close. If I can stay in her orbit, maybe she’ll come to me willingly. That would be ideal. If she doesn’t … I glance at her again, the way she moves, the fire in her eyes, and my drake stirs beneath my skin. The bond is already there, fragile but undeniable, and I know … he won’t be gentle if I have to take matters into my own hands. Even if I ask him to be.