21. Abraxis
Abraxis
When my mother first warned me that Abaddon was a monster and hinted at the possibility of him abusing his wife, I dismissed it as overprotective speculation. But after seeing how he acted tonight at dinner, the truth of every whispered rumor and story finally sinks in. He is a monster—a true one, not just in the metaphorical sense. My mate lies broken in my arms. Her heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. She didn’t even bother to dress after our bath, simply curling up beside me, silent tears soaking into my chest.
Even my drake, who is usually impatient and relentless in his demands, is uncharacteristically quiet, his usual hunger to complete our bond overshadowed by concern. He sees our mate’s pain and realizes, just as I do, that there’s no physical wound we can heal for her tonight. The damage goes deeper.
While Mina sleeps, I carefully slide my phone from my pocket, my fingers trembling with rage as I type out a message to my father. Abaddon’s crossed a line. I want to kill him. His response is immediate. I can practically feel his fury reverberating through the screen. Bring her here immediately.
With dawn’s first light creeping in, casting the room in muted blues and grays, I slip out of bed as quietly as I can. My chest tightens at the thought of waking her, of disrupting the fragile peace that sleep has afforded her. But we need to move. Abaddon’s lackeys are always lurking, and it’s only a matter of time before they sniff out our escape.
“Mina,” I whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. Her eyelids flutter open, revealing the faintest spark of hope in her gaze. The small smile that follows almost breaks me.
“We’re leaving. Get dressed. As soon as you’re ready, we’re gone.”
Her eyes light up like firecrackers in the dark, and she’s up before I can blink, tearing through the clothes I’d set out for her. The sight of her beloved leathers draws a sneer of disgust, and instead, she digs through the bag, pulling out the standard-issue black set we received from school. A small, vicious part of me understands—these are hers now—her choice. Abaddon’s realm holds no claim over her anymore.
She dresses swiftly, sliding her hood over her head and expertly wrapping her horns until they’re concealed. A predator in disguise.
“There’s a passage over here to get us out unseen,” she murmurs, voice low. Moving to a floor-length mirror, she taps a hidden button. A faint click echoes, and the mirror pops open, revealing a narrow, dank passageway behind it.
I grab our bags, slinging them over my shoulder as I follow her into the darkness. The air is thick with moisture, and the scent of mildew clings to the stone walls. Our only source of light is the small sphere of lightning she manifests in her hand, its glow casting eerie, dancing shadows that seem to pulse with a life of their own .
We twist and turn through the twisted path, the oppressive silence closing in around us. My senses are on high alert, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling with the anticipation of danger. Then we emerge into a cavern, the air suddenly colder, the space widening out before us.
Mina kills the lightning and tilts her head, listening. Without a word, she melts into the shadows. My heart pounds painfully in my chest as I strain to hear anything—anything. A muffled gurgling sound breaks the silence, followed by a heavy thud.
“What was that?” a gruff voice calls out, and before I can react, another body hits the ground.
“Let’s go.” Her voice is a whisper of wind against stone, and she appears at the mouth of the cave, her eyes gleaming with deadly resolve. We sprint for the flight field, her lithe form a blur of motion ahead of me.
Reaching back, she snatches her bag from my grasp, and in one smooth motion, her dragoness rips free from its human shell. Scales shimmer and ripple as she shifts, her powerful form taking to the skies. I don’t hesitate, my drake bursting forth in a storm of midnight and shadows, wings snapping out to catch the air as I follow her.
She leads us out of her family’s valley, navigating through treacherous updrafts and jagged cliffs. I take the lead once we’re clear, clinging to the rock face as we ascend, hiding our silhouettes from prying eyes. The wind howls around us, a fierce, biting cold that would have rattled lesser beings. But I push through, my gaze locked on the silhouette of my parents’ nest in the distance.
When we’re finally within range, I let out a thunderous roar, announcing our arrival. Torches blaze to life in the courtyard below, signaling its safe to land. I circle twice, scanning the area for any signs of danger, before gliding down to touch the ground.
My parents emerge, expressions grim, but Mina doesn’t land. Instead, she circles above us, her head snapping back toward the path we just came from. A sudden plume of chlorine gas bursts forth, aimed directly at her.
“Mina!” I shout, but before I can run to shift, my father’s iron grip clamps down on my shoulder.
“She’s immune, son. You’re not.”
I watch in horrified fascination as Mina whirls midair, the frill along her spine sparking with crackling bolts of lightning. The air hums with raw energy, and then she roars, her voice vibrating through the stones beneath my feet. Electricity races up her scales, arcing out in a flash of blinding light.
Her attackers don’t even have time to scream as the bolts hit them, their bodies jerking violently before they drop to the ground in smoldering heaps, charred beyond recognition.
She roars again, a sound so filled with rage and pain that it shakes the very mountains around us. Every fiber of my being screams to go to her, to comfort her, but I can’t move—frozen by the sheer intensity of her fury.
My mother steps forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. Mina’s head whips around, her gaze locking onto Mom with a feral intensity that makes my breath hitch. For a heartbeat, I think she might attack. But then she exhales slowly, nostrils flaring as she studies my mother.
In a single fluid motion, she lands, claws scoring deep grooves into the stone courtyard. She shifts back and reaches into the small pack she had carried .
Mom approaches cautiously, taking the backpack with slow, deliberate movements. To my utter shock, Mina allows it, her gaze following every movement with a predator’s focus. With a gentle murmur, Mom turns and leads Mina inside.
I’m left standing there, stunned, my heart hammering in my chest. The wild, untamed look in Mina’s eyes lingers in my mind—a terrifying reminder of the depths of her power and the pain that’s driven her to the edge.
I take a deep breath before launching into the story of the dinner from hell, my words sharp and clipped as I recall every detail. My father’s eyes flash with a dark, dangerous light as he listens, his knuckles whitening against the edge of the table. “I knew he was bad, but not this bad,” he mutters, voice barely a growl. The air thrums with barely contained fury. His gaze drops back to the map sprawled before him, the land under Abaddon’s control bleeding out like a dark stain. His fingers hover over a line, tracing routes and strongholds. “How many did he train like Mina?”
His eyes lock on mine, the weight of his question a leaden force. There’s a moment of silence, thick and oppressive, before I answer. “He tried to teach a squad … She is the first and the last to survive his training.” The admission sends a flicker of something—pain, anger, regret?—across his face. My father curses under his breath, shaking his head. The room seems smaller, the walls closing in around us as he wrestles with what I’ve just said.
Mina stands quietly to the side, a dark presence in the leathers of my people. The armor absorbs the light, the black almost swallowing her whole. Knives and weapons hide in every pocket and sheath, her movements a whisper of leather and deadly intent. The bodice of her armor glints under the dull light, reinforced with basilisk scale—the hardest scales known to exist. An impenetrable shell for an unstoppable force.
My mate strides forward, her gaze zeroing in on the map with a precision that sends a chill racing down my spine. “This is outdated,” she declares, her voice a low, deadly rumble. Without hesitation, she reaches into the pocket on her thigh and pulls out a smaller, folded map. The air around us seems to crackle as she unfolds it, revealing an updated sketch of her father’s compound. A near-feral grin curves across her lips, baring a hint of teeth as she offers it to my father. “My mating present to you, Vox, and to your people.”
Her voice is firm. No trace of the vulnerable girl I met all those months ago. This is someone honed by fire and pain, someone forged in blood and betrayal. The moment Abaddon sent people to kill her, something shifted irrevocably inside her. Now, only the weapon remains—razor-sharp and lethal.
“Thank you, Lady Mina.” My father smiles, but Mina’s eyes narrow, a dangerous gleam igniting in their depths.
A laugh bubbles up from her lips, dark and wild, as her dragon’s eyes eclipse her human ones. Molten golden pools of endless depth stare out from her face. “I’m no lady. I’m the weapon my father created. The weapon my mate will wield one day to bring an end to my father’s reign of terror.”
There’s a cold calculation in her gaze as she turns to face me. A shudder runs through me, unease curling like a snake in my gut. Her father pushed her too far, crossed too many lines, and now she’s set on a path that even I might not be able to pull her back from. Mina’s voice drops, a chilling whisper of vengeance. “I want my father’s head on a pike for what he’s done to me … to my sister… and my mother.”
My father doesn’t hesitate. “You shall have it.”
Mina nods, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She moves to my side, the tension in her frame lessening as she presses her head against my shoulder. A familiar gesture—one of comfort, but there’s a hardness to it now. Her warmth is still there, but it’s buried beneath layers of ice and steel.
I don’t like this shift in her, the thought twisting painfully in my chest. He’s pushed her into a corner, turned her into something more dangerous than any weapon in his arsenal. Now he’s made an enemy for life, and with her strength, he’ll rue the day he ever crossed her. A silent vow forms in my mind: I’ll see that bastard fall, even if I have to tear him apart myself.
“How’s school?” My father’s question is so out of place, so bizarrely mundane, that it almost startles a laugh out of me. He’s trying to reach her, to remind her of something normal.
“Good…” Mina’s tone is light, but there’s a glint in her eyes that sets me on edge. It’s the look of someone planning a bloodbath. “Tell me what you know about the cursed eggs. I have one of the tickets to try for one.”
Her voice is too sweet, too poised, and I know exactly what’s running through her mind. If she hatches one of those cursed eggs, the first place she’ll unleash its fury will be on her father’s nest. The thought sends a thrill of anticipation through me. A dragon unleashed—uncontrollable, vengeful—burning everything in its path. And I’ll be right there beside her .
“There are seven cursed eggs, one for each of the mortal sins,” my father begins, his voice low and reverent as if even speaking of them could bring ruin upon us. The room seems to darken, the very air growing heavy under the weight of his words. He stands by the long, polished table, its surface gleaming under the flickering candlelight. His hand hovers over an ancient tome bound in faded leather, its spine cracked and fraying at the edges, whispering of countless years and untold secrets. He opens the book with a gentle yet deliberate touch, revealing yellowed pages filled with intricate symbols and haunting sketches of the eggs and the dragons within.
Mina leans forward, her posture betraying a subtle tension. Her head tilts, one eyebrow arching high as a predatory smile curves across her lips. “War machines, you say...” Her voice is a purr of interest, yet her gaze is cold, calculating. She reaches out, her fingers brushing the tome’s brittle paper as she spins it towards herself. The faint rasp of skin against parchment sounds unnaturally loud in the silence.
My father nods grimly, his eyes never leaving the book as he flips to the page detailing the origins of the red, orange, and black dragons. “They were once like us,” he murmurs, his gaze distant, as if lost in the horror of his own memories. “Like us, but driven mad, twisted by their greed, pride, and wrath until they were no longer dragons, but weapons. Sentient beasts bound to chaos and destruction, lost to their beasts for all eternity.”
He gestures to the rough, charcoal sketch of the red egg—its surface marred with cracks and scars, as if struggling to contain the violence simmering within. “The red, orange, and black dragons … They are war machines. They will fight until there is nothing left but ash and ruin.” His voice softens, almost a whisper now. “No one has been chosen by the red in over a thousand years. It respects power above all else. Most who stand before it are not even worth a flicker of its interest. Bu t those who are…” He trails off, a shadow of fear—or perhaps awe—flitting across his face.
Mina’s eyes glitter dangerously, the light catching the deep amber flecks in her irises as she skims the pages. “And the others?” she asks, the words casual, but there’s something else lurking beneath her tone. Anticipation. Hunger.
My father’s lips press into a thin line. He moves to her side, leaning over to turn another page with a feather-light touch, careful not to damage the fragile manuscript. The page reveals a faded diagram of a stone slab surrounded by runes and symbols etched into its surface. “The eggs will sense your presence the moment you enter the chamber. You must stand on this slab. The egg that chooses you will glow. That is the only egg you can touch and take with you. Any other … and the results will be fatal.”
I watch silently from the corner of the room, my chest tightening with a mixture of dread and dark hope. None of the eggs glowed for me when I entered the chamber. The memory of that cold, suffocating silence still gnaws at the edges of my mind. I wasn’t even worth a glance from the cursed creatures slumbering within those shells. But Mina … I feel a shiver run down my spine as I imagine her standing on that slab, the oppressive silence broken by the sudden flare of light from any of the eggs.
Part of me—darker and far more dangerous, wants to see her succeed. To see her chosen by one of the beasts, to watch her contain the beasts and send them to do her bidding..
My father’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “The red egg devours the weak and unworthy. Even touching it is a death sentence for most,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering to me before returning to Mina. “But you, Mina … you might be different. ”
Mina’s smile widens, sharp as a blade, and she meets my father’s gaze without flinching. “I’ve always been different,” she replies softly, her voice threaded with confidence that borders on arrogance. She straightens, rolling her shoulders as if preparing for battle. “I’ll take my chances.”
A chill settles in my gut as I picture the scene unfolding—the red or black dragon’s egg flaring to life, its glow casting monstrous shadows against the chamber walls. Mina, standing alone on that slab, bathed in light, her face twisted in pain or ecstasy, the line between madness and power blurred beyond recognition.