Page 63 of Siren's Gift

Ileft Rin in the capable hands of a Gifted doctor I could trust. As much as I could trust anyone outside of my close circle of friends. After Aaron ensured all the captives had escaped and gotten medical care, he and Keiko would take turns staying with Rin. Although I doubted she would leave his side.

I knew they would do whatever was necessary to keep him safe, just as I would.

Then, with fire and fury coursing through my veins, I headed to the Sato estate. My steps echoed down the long hallway, each tap a hangman’s drum beat as they counted down my grandfather’s last breaths.

If he thought he could stop me now, he was in for a rude fucking awakening.

A man in an all-too-familiar blue tracksuit stepped out of a room up ahead—Kenzo. His upper lip curled into a sneer when he saw me approach. “Well, if it isn’t the bastard. Come to lap at Ichiro’s?—”

I didn’t give him a chance to finish. My hand shot out and gripped his windpipe, my claws extending deep into his skin. With a fast wrench of my wrist, I tore out his throat.

His eyes opened wide as he grabbed at the wound and slumped to the ground. Within moments, a pool of blood had soaked into the bottom of the nearby curtains, and his eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. A wisp of smoke exited his open mouth and drifted away.

Fucking finally.

Once bonded with a dragon, our throats became our most vulnerable area, which was why we always went straight for it during a fight to the death. While I wished his dragon didn’t have to suffer the same fate, it was for the best. Osupipemi was one of the weakest among the fire dragon spirits.

The doors to the training room were closed, but that didn’t slow me down. I shoved them open hard enough for them to bang against the walls and strode inside. Normally, I would have taken more precautions and been wary of an ambush. But today, my blood boiled for a fight, and I welcomed any such attempts.

Alas, only one man stood in this room. With his hands clasped casually behind him, he turned to face me. Ichiro, the man who had made my life a living hell simply for existing, stood waiting. His cold eyes locked onto mine with disdain I had known since I was born.

The weight of a thousand unspoken words hung heavy in the blood-tinged air, and charred walls served as memories of training battles going back decades. Nothing could compare to what was about to happen here today.

I’d spent nearly every day since my father’s death training in this room, honing my and Jou’s skills, pushing past our breaking points again and again under my grandfather’s command and my desire to be the best.

Now, he was about to find out just what kind of monster he created.

My voice, calm and low, cut through the silence, “Ichiro Sato, I challenge you to a Trial by Fire.”

The High Draconic Council had established the Trials as a last resort measure, a duel to the death, and weren’t to be invoked lightly. Every dragon element had a Trial, and some even set its own rules. As usual, the fire dragons followed a simple rule—there were none.

Should anyone question the legitimacy of a duel after the fact, the Council would call for a legal trial at the next Council meeting. It was a backward process perhaps, but Trials were few and rarely questioned.

“I always knew you’d end up here, challenging me,” he said. “You’re a Sato. It’s in your blood.”

His words were dramatic, referring to his own patricide. He was the only Sato who’d done such a thing.

I didn’t fault Ichiro necessarily. From the stories I’d heard, his father had been more vile than Ichiro. If anything was in our blood, it was the need to stop a tyrant or become one ourselves.

“Why did you do it?” I asked. “Why the pyrocrystals?”

“Why do you think? Power. Control. This world thrives on both, and I will never let anyone break apart or weaken my family again.Wewill be in control. We will have the power.” His lips curled into a sinister smile. “Well, I will.”

I clenched my fists and relished the sharp prick of my claws, still bloodied from Kenzo’s demise. My dragon prowled within me like a fiery pulse that quickened with my heartbeat. "This ends today, old man. No more games. No more torture. Your death ends it all."

“You’re not ready to face me, boy.”

In a blaze of crimson light, Ichiro’s body ignited as his dragon roared to life. The formidable spirit of Pomï burst from his back in a torrent of flame. An ancient serpent of fire, he coiled in the air, eyes glowing with a feral hunger. His semi-translucent scales alternated between molten copper and deep ruby.

Every movement was graceful and lethal, a dance that promised nothing less than annihilation. The heat was intense, scorching even against my hardened skin. It felt as if the surrounding air vibrated with the dragon’s primordial wrath.

My dragon rose from the depths of my soul to challenge him. Tearing through the surface of my skin, Jou bellowed his defiance as flames burst from his hazy form. I could feel his power, a part of me yet distinctly separate. Ready to fight.

Ready to kill.

The two dragons circled each other in the air, and their battle cries echoed off the walls.

My eyes never left Ichiro’s. This wasn’t just a fight. This was for my best friend, tortured at the hands of this monster. For my mother, who had died bringing me into a world ruled by this corrupt tyrant. For me, for all the years I had suffered under his shadow. And for Bree, who had sacrificed her home and livelihood to save my life.

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