37. Callan
Callan
The end of the year is almost here, and Mina has blazed through everything Shadowcarve offers—except weapons. It makes me wonder if it’s because it’s the class Abraxis teaches or the one skill she feels she actually needs help with.
The walk back from the faculty meeting feels longer than usual, maybe because I’m about to settle into an actual dragon’s nest for the summer. They favor spaces without windows, buried deep in mountains or underground—places that feel more like fortresses than homes.
“Callan!” Nigel’s voice echoes through the hall, and I stop, waiting as he jogs to catch up.
“Everything alright?” I study him, still thrown off by the difference between his human form and the sheer hulking size of his gargoyle shift.
“Yes, and no…” He glances around, almost nervously, and draws a deep breath. “I’m just going to say it. My nephew … he thinks your mate is also his.” He steps back, hands raised, as if ready for a reaction. “As the non-dragon in the bond, you might know how open Miss Mina is to … another mate.”
I blink, eyebrows shooting up. My gaze sweeps the area, half expecting Mina or Abraxis to appear out of nowhere. “I’m … not sure. She knows that for a strong nest, having more than one mate is often best.” I sigh, already feeling the weight of the conversation I’m heading into, and start walking back toward Shadowcarve, where I know Mina is.
Nigel falls into step beside me, a trace of hope in his voice. “My nephew tested into Shadowcarve as a transfer for next year.”
I rub my hand over my face, a low chuckle escaping. “Mina will eat him alive…” I shake my head and pat Nigel on the shoulder. “But I’ll start the conversation with her. See how she feels about it.”
“Maybe I’ll have Vaughn join us for art class. Have him be the subject of the painting for the day in his shifted form.” He muses to himself and nods, having decided.
Art is in two hours, and I need to go warn Abraxis and the others before the shit hits the fan. Nigel’s words linger, and I know this is going to explode if I don’t get ahead of it. I bolt across campus, slipping between shadows until I reach Shadowcarve. Everyone’s gathered, saying goodbye to Mina and Cora as they head to class. I barely pause, ducking in to press a quick kiss to Mina’s lips. She purrs, soft and satisfied, her fingers grazing my jaw.
“Have a great class today,” I say, though she just groans.
“I’ll try, but these core classes are going to be the death of me.” She turns, her gaze hopeful, batting her eyes at Abraxis. “Are we absolutely sure I can’t just test out of them? ”
Abraxis’s eye twitches. I can see him at war with himself—the need to fix everything for his mate gnawing at him. With a reluctant sigh, he finally nods. “I’ll talk to Lysander about it.”
Mina squeals, bouncing up on her toes to kiss him, and he lets her, though Cora just rolls her eyes and tugs on Mina’s sash.
“You know that grosses me out, seeing you kiss my brother, right?” she says, giving Abraxis a teasing grin.
Abraxis growls low in his throat. Ziggy smirks, crossing his arms. “You’ve gone soft, General,” he taunts.
“It’s only for my mate,” Abraxis snaps, and before Ziggy can blink, he’s launched halfway across campus. He just reappears, shrugging like it’s nothing.
I clear my throat, and their eyes all turn to me, waiting. “We’ve got a bigger concern,” I start, steeling myself. “Nigel’s nephew … he thinks Mina is his mate. He’s already applied and been accepted here for next year.”
Abraxis goes still. His expression doesn’t shift, not even a flicker in his gaze. “If he’s unworthy,” he finally says with a dismissive shrug, “either the gauntlet or Mina will destroy him.” And without another word, he turns, heading toward his office, leaving the weight of those words hanging heavy in the air.
“That’s it?” I call after Abraxis, picking up my pace to catch him. The steady thuds of students’ fists and weapons’ striking practice dummies echo through the courtyard, filling the air with a rhythmic beat.
“Yup…” He barely glances back, his hand dropping casually to the pommel of the sword at his hip. “It’s not our decision, it’s hers.” He scans the courtyard, eyes narrowed as he takes in the scene. “Adding a ga rgoyle to the mix is strategic. Another fire-resistant addition to the nest, one that can fly. In his stone form, he’s practically immune to fire, acid … most weapons, really. Though, if anyone were to snag his talisman, he’d turn to stone during the day.”
He shrugs, clearly unconcerned, then strides forward, heading back toward the students he’s working with. “Besides, it’s Nigel’s nephew. Probably a string bean with no muscle on him. The gauntlet will take care of it. Problem solved.”
His words don’t bring me any comfort. My bond with Mina may have improved, but it’s nowhere near as strong as what she shares with Abraxis. And if I’m being honest, that’s on me. I glance up at the looming clock tower, calculating the time left—an hour before her art class. I can only hope things go smoothly.
Art class is unusually tense today. Mina is settled in her usual spot beneath the cherry blossom trees, looking calm and prepared. But then Nigel announces, “We have a real treat today. A live model from my clan,” and Mina’s head drops, eyes narrowing as she shuffles through her paints, adjusting her palette.
I watch her closely, and suddenly she goes still, her eyes taking on that familiar glow as her body tenses, caught in one of her visions. I reach out, resting my hand on her thigh to ground her as she gets lost in whatever she’s seeing. My gaze sweeps the class, finally landing on our model—a towering gargoyle in nothing but a loincloth. I cough, trying to mask my reaction, but there’s no hiding it: the fabric is barely doing its job .
Mina blinks a few times, coming back to herself, and, without looking up, dips her brush in a rich black paint, working on the canvas. She doesn’t spare Vaughn a single glance as she begins. But I can tell from the shapes and colors forming on the canvas that she’s painting him, capturing his essence. Half of the figure she paints is unmistakably human, the other half pure gargoyle—a perfect duality.
The more her brush moves, the clearer it becomes: she’s painting Vaughn as she saw him in her vision. She can’t see him from where she’s seated, but the form, the details … it’s like he’s sitting in her mind as clearly as he’s perched at the front of the class.
Nigel drifts around, checking our work, stopping here and there to make corrections. When he reaches us, he lingers behind Mina, peering over her shoulder. She pauses, her hand stilling, and her voice is calm as she speaks without turning. “You know I hate when people move behind me. It’s why I’m way back here.”
She finally glances over her shoulder at him, her gaze steady, a silent reminder that she doesn’t enjoy being watched. Nigel only chuckles, but the rest of us exchange glances, feeling the weight of her presence and Vaughn’s likeness on her canvas, vivid as any vision she’s ever had.
Nigel motions to the canvas and points, “How?” He and I both thought there was no way she’d remember his nephew.
“Not sure,” Mina lies smoothly, her words sliding out like silk. Nigel buys it without a second thought. With a final, careful brush stroke, she hands the canvas over to him. “Give it to him. I’ll see him next year at Shadowcarve. Unless he’s brave enough to run the gauntlet this year.” She pulls out her phone and sends a quick message.
The air around us hums and then pops, and suddenly Zigmander is standing nearby, wearing his gloves, his hand extended toward her. “Ready?” he asks.
Mina finally glances across the lawn and notices the massive gargoyle perched on a stool, its eyes flaring in recognition. She takes a hesitant step back, pressing close to Ziggy, and before I can blink, they vanish, leaving us to wonder where they’ve gone.
“Where did she go?” Vaughn’s voice breaks through, and he barrels toward us, hastily holding his loincloth in place over his slightly smaller human form. He’s massive even in this form, nearly as bulky as Abraxis himself.
“Not sure, but she left you a painting.” I turn the canvas to face him, letting him take in the image. It’s him, seen through her eyes, every detail perfect.
“I didn’t think she’d remember who I am.” He stares at the image, his head tilting as he notices something. “I don’t have a scar there…” He points to the spot between his neck and shoulder.
I inhale deeply, loosening my tie and unbuttoning the top button of my shirt. I show him the mark Mina left on me, an identical scar to the one she painted on him. “Looks like it’s her way of saying she’ll accept you. That’s a mate mark.” I tap the canvas lightly with the back of a paintbrush, tracing the outline of the scar.
Vaughn’s excitement is like a spark, and I find myself smiling with him, caught up in his energy. “I need to carve her a present, then gather crystals and other trinkets to leave for her.” He’s practically bouncing on his feet, and I know there’s no stopping him once he’s set on something.
“She prefers candies and weapons to be left for her,” I hint, watching the way his eyes light up with the new information. He nods, already plotting, and then he’s off, disappearing into the shadows as swiftly as he came.
“That went better than expected,” I murmur, turning toward Nigel, who’s been quietly observing.
Nigel nods, reaching for the painting, propping it against a tree. “She painted his human side from memory. But there are several things wrong with the painting.” He angles the image toward me, and I step closer, taking in the details he’s pointed out. “His wings … they have scars here. In reality, he doesn’t have any scars. And there’s another thing—he doesn’t have any tattoos. We can’t be tattooed.” His voice is calm, but I can see the slight tension in his gaze, the way he’s assessing every brushstroke.
I lean in, studying it again, feeling a strange pull as I absorb the image. It’s almost too perfect, and something about it feels … wrong. Or maybe right, depending on how you look at it. “This must be a vision from the future,” I whisper to myself, a knot of uncertainty forming in my gut. The real question is, how far into the future are we looking?
The walk back to Shadowcarve is uneventful, thankfully. That is until I see everyone gathering around the gauntlet. Mina is sitting on top of it looking down at everyone, kicking her legs. “It’s not that hard. I just ran it.” Mina taunts from on the peak of the gauntlet.
“You’re the exception, not the rule!” I yell at Mina as she stands up and walks across the top of the gauntlet like it’s nothing.
I watch her slide down the gauntlet wall with sharp precision, talons digging in just enough to slow her descent before she lands effortlessly in front of me. She steps close, right into my personal space, her gaze piercing as she looks up. “Something is coming … I need a strong nest to support me in battle. You…” Her grip on my jaw is firm, almost poss essive, as she smiles. “You can analyze data and formations as fast as Leander. That skill is vital for defense.” Her eyes flicker briefly to Vaughn, then back to me. “He has brute strength and durability, but does he have cunning? The gauntlet will answer that.” She’s always strategic, always logical, like she’s balancing the nest with perfect precision. She nods toward Abraxis and Klauth, her brow arching with a look that tells me they’re her firepower, her air support. Then, she turns, crossing to Ziggy before disappearing into the shadows of the courtyard.
I arch a brow and glance over at Abraxis, who’s watching her retreat, his expression shadowed with thought. He gestures toward the upper offices. Mina stands in the window, watching the courtyard with an intensity that feels both analytical and deeply unsettling. “Sometimes, it feels like she’s looking at a giant chessboard, moving us like pieces,” I murmur, half to myself.
Abraxis’s response is a low growl, his dragon’s eyes momentarily overtaking his human ones. “There’s been movement on the northern borders. Mina saw it last night. I sent a recon team, and she was right. Someone or something is coming, and altruism isn’t what’s motivating them.” His gaze shifts to the gauntlet, where Vaughn steps onto the platform, nodding briefly to Balor before preparing himself to run.
“Think he’ll make it?” I ask, my gaze shifting to Abraxis, who’s as stony as ever.
He gives a slight shrug, his wings flexing behind him in a restless flick. “Given his size and considering the issues I had with it myself, he’ll have to be smart. Otherwise, he won’t survive it.” Abraxis’s wings made the gauntlet a brutal challenge for him back in the day, the added size and weight a disadvantage in the tight turns and sudden drop-offs .
“Why is someone running the gauntlet?” Lysander’s voice cuts in as he joins us, his gaze tracking Vaughn’s progress as lights flicker to life across the gauntlet’s sections.
“Potential mate of Mina’s,” I answer, my tone casual, though the stakes are anything but. “She wants him to prove himself.”
“She didn’t make you two run it.” Lysander’s brows furrow as he scans the courtyard. “Speaking of Mina, where is she?”
Abraxis gestures over his shoulder, pointing to the offices where Mina stands with Ziggy at her side, her expression intense as she watches the scene below. “Safe,” Abraxis grunts, his tone heavier than usual. There’s something in his eyes, something simmering under his usual calm, but he’s been like this lately—tense, like he’s bracing for something none of us sees coming.