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I nodded my head, frowning as my eyes flitted from Cyrus’s face to the door before us. The giant iron circle took up every inch of available space on the wall. The sides were intricately carved with symbols I did not understand but recognised from the spines of books in Leo’s cabin, and in the middle an orange gem was held in place by iron hands.
Strands of white smoke peeled out of the sides where the iron met wood.
“My father did not understand how dragons, or their eggs, work.” Cyrus said, his eyes glued on the door as he released my hand. I felt my eyebrows furrow, watching him closely. “He did not understand that a dragon’s egg will not hatch without its siblings.”
My heart began to hammer in my chest as I realised what was behind the large door in front of us. Aepein’s egg.
A spark of flame appeared in the middle of Cyrus’s palm, and he upturned it, stretching his fingers under the spark became an inferno, engulfing his hand entirely. My eyes went wide, and I stepped back from him slightly, but he smiled at me reassuringly.
Stepping forward, Cyrus held his now burning hand to the gem in the door, a wince of pain crossing his face. It was silent for a moment, until the deafening groans and clanking of metal on metal filled the space, the sound making my ears scream in protest.
Cyrus did not seem to react to the noises, but the pain on his face remained as his arm began to shake around the gem. I reached forward, placing my hand on his shoulder in a useless attempt at reassurance, and was shocked by the feeling of his magic flowing through his skin, even through his shirt. He grunted with pressure, his shoulder tensing under my touch, and I stiffened at the strange sensation in the palm of my hand. It felt as though it was burning, and I hissed through my teeth; trying my hardest to pull my hand away, but it felt like someone, or something, was holding it in place.
The burning radiated up the inside of my arm, spearing in at the crease of my elbow and making me gasp. I looked at the exposed skin of my forearm, seeing gold blistering its way over my skin. I quickly realised it was working its way over the same pattern as my veins. Cyrus was still shaking under the palm of my hand.
After several seconds, the door in front of us cracked open slightly, and Cyrus and I were released from the vice grip the magic had on us. I gasped, sucking in a deep breath as I snatched my hand away from Cyrus’s shoulder. He doubled over, his hands on his knees as he choked on the air he was taking in.
“What was that?” I asked, my throat aching. The now golden pattern of my veins remained on my arm, and Cyrus turned his head to look at me, his eyes streaming and bloodshot.
“That, Sweetheart, was your magic.” He gasped, standing up straight and placing a hand on his chest. He took slow, deliberate breaths, and closed his eyes, steadying himself after the toll our joined magic had taken on his body.
I gawked at him, my mouth opening and closing repeatedly as I tried to come to terms with what he had just said. I had not managed to tap into my magic yet, despite the meditations Leo had given me, or the extra lessons Calliope had tried to sneak in when we were both in the library. I was starting to believe I did not actually possess any.
But the feeling in my blood right now was powerful. The most powerful sensation I had ever felt, and as I stared down at the intricate golden pattern still prominent on my arm, I wondered if that was only a small taste of what I was capable of.
Cyrus cleared his throat, opening his eyes and focusing his gaze on me.
“That was incredible.” He grinned, his voice slightly breathless as he reached forward and took my hand in his own. He pulled me back towards him, lifting my hand close to his face and inspecting it as though it were the most precious of metals. His eyes were wide and his face still split into a teeth-baring grin. I had never seen such a look of elation on his face before, and the dizzying sense of smugness that I had caused such a beautiful sight caught me off guard.
“I’ve never done that before,” I laughed lightly, finally pulling my gaze from his face, looking over his shoulder to the still slightly cracked iron door. Cyrus’s head shot up, his expression changing from sheer elation to slight confusion, to smug pride.
“Well, you clearly just needed an anchor.” He smiled, leaning forward to push my sweaty hair off my face and place a damp kiss on my forehead. My heart hummed in my chest. “Now, come, this is important.”
I nodded, letting my hand slip back into his comfortably.
Waiting patiently, I let Cyrus drag me forward as he pushed on the heavy iron door with his shoulder. It groaned as it opened slowly, and I was greeted with the sight of coal. Smoldering, burning coal, piled high on top of itself. The heat in the tunnels suddenly made sense, and I frowned as more of the room was revealed.
A golden pedestal stood in the center of the room, its legs covered with dust and dirt, and a red pillow on its top.
My heart sang at the sight in front of me.
The large, white egg sat in the middle of the pillow. Its shell scaled like the ones on Aepein’s back, the iridescent glow shimmering under the orange glow of smoldering coal. I gasped, stepping forward and letting go of Cyrus’s hand, stepping carefully onto the cooler coal to cross the room.
Cyrus watched from the door, his head tilted to the side and a look of sheer admiration on his face as I stopped beside the pedestal, lifting myself onto my tiptoes, and reached up, running my fingers along the rough eggshell. It quivered under my touch, turning on its pillow slightly, almost like it was trying to look at me. I grinned, my cheeks aching with the size of my smile.
“Sweetheart,” Cyrus called from the door, and I looked back over my shoulder at him. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was leaning on the large, circular frame, but he was still outside of the room. He was smiling at me fondly, but there was a hint of panic in his voice, “I hate to ruin your moment, but your trousers are burning.”
I looked down, cursing when I spotted the burning spots on the hems of my trousers. Leaping down from the coal I was standing on, I hurriedly crossed back to the door, hopping out into the marble floored hallway, and patting out the burning.
Cyrus laughed, leaning down to help me reach the spots I could not get.
“I know it cannot hatch without the others.” Cyrus said suddenly, his voice going from happy to serious in an instant as he stood back up to face me, “I know that, but my father did not.”
I nodded my head, looking back into the room where the egg was kept. It shone at me from the darkness of the space, the orange of the flames surrounding it making it shimmer.
“Why show it to me now?” I asked, turning my gaze back to Cyrus.
“Because I want to return it.” He explained, his expression softening, “It was not my fathers to take, and I have hated the fact it is in this castle since the day it arrived.”
