Thauglor

The History of the Black Cursed Egg

One moment I’m fighting alongside my best friend to avenge the slaughter of his progeny—the next, I’m entombed within an eternal prison.
Years dissolve like sand through my claws, punctuated only by fleeting moments of consciousness. I hatched once for a male whose bloodlust matched my own burning rage. It didn’t end well. Little did I know that killing the very person who freed me would seal my fate once more.
I have no concept of how long I slumbered in that suffocating darkness until her voice pierced the void—a siren’s song that ignited something primal within me. My mate. She was calling, so achingly close I could taste her essence on the stale air. When she turned away, choosing another, I forced myself back into the numbing embrace of sleep.

But fate is a cruel mistress.
I don’t know how many centuries passed before I heard her again—that haunting melody that is both salvation and torment. This time, she doesn’t abandon me. This time, she takes me with her into the unknown.
Now, trapped within this cursed shell, I can only pray that her touch will be enough to shatter these ancient bonds. Because when I finally break free, the world will remember why they feared what slumbers within the Black Cursed Egg.

Some prisons are meant to contain monsters.
Others are meant to forge them.