The Russo estate stood silent beneath the weight of dawn. Mist curled along the cobbled paths, veiling the stone statues of long-dead ancestors. At the center of it all, in a grand hall built of obsidian and blood-oath wood, Adrian Russo stood face to face with his grandfather.
Don Riccardo Russo.
The true patriarch of the family.
"You're weak," the old man spat, his voice like gravel scraped over stone.
Adrian didn't flinch.
"I'm strong enough to know when to hold back."
Riccardo slammed his cane against the floor, his pale eyes burning. "A Russo never holds back. That girl—Isabella—is a threat to our legacy. A Romano can never be trusted."
Adrian's jaw clenched. "She's just a kid. Like me."
"No," Riccardo growled. "She's not like you. She's smarter. Colder. And she has the blood of the Siren Clan."
Adrian frowned. "That's a myth."
Riccardo smiled—a cruel, knowing twist of his lips. "That's what they want you to believe."
He limped forward, lowering his voice. "Your father is too blind to see it, but I remember the war. I saw what the Sirens could do—how they bent minds, shattered bones with nothing but a whisper. Her mother—Francesca—was one of them. And her daughter… she's already blooming."
Adrian's heart beat faster.
"She has power," Riccardo whispered. "But no leash. If you don't bind her now, boy, she'll destroy everything you've ever known."
---
Back at the Romano estate, Isabella stood in front of a grand stained-glass window shaped like a crescent moon. Her mother's old pendant, a tear-shaped sapphire on a gold chain, hung heavy around her neck.
"Your father is almost here," Matteo said from the doorway. "Are you ready?"
She turned to him, her face unreadable. "I haven't seen him in six years. Is anyone ever ready for that?"
"He'll want to test your control. The Tribunal is watching us more closely than ever."
Isabella nodded. "Then let them watch."
Matteo stepped closer. "Camille's curse failed. But barely. She's escalating."
"I know."
"Why didn't you strike back?"
"I'm waiting," Isabella said, her voice low. "Let her dig her hole deeper."
"You're playing with fire."
"I am fire."
Her eyes glowed faintly blue.
---
Camille sat in her room, running a red ribbon through her fingers. On the wall in front of her was a canvas. It wasn't painted—it was carved.
Deep, slashing gouges marked a shape: Isabella's face. The eyes were hollow.
A knock came. Camille blinked.
"Come in," she said sweetly.
Vincent Russo entered, dressed in full military regalia. "You'll be training with Adrian today."
Her smile sharpened. "Finally."
"He needs a partner who knows him. Someone loyal."
She stood, brushing down her crimson tunic. "He has me. Always."
"Don't disappoint me."
"I never do."
---
The Russo training grounds were hidden deep beneath the estate, shielded with enchantments and blood-sealed barriers. It was where young heirs learned to kill.
Adrian stood at one end of the arena, sword in hand. Camille stepped onto the sand in sleek battlewear, her eyes glinting with anticipation.
"You ready?" she asked, twirling a dagger.
"Always," Adrian said, masking his unease.
They circled each other. Sparks flew—literally—as their powers clashed.
Camille's flames coiled like snakes, testing his defenses. Adrian countered with shadow bursts, dancing between illusion and precision.
"You've gotten faster," she breathed.
"You've gotten desperate," he shot back.
She smirked and lunged. Their blades locked. Then she whispered, "She'll never love you like I do."
Adrian shoved her back.
"You don't know anything about love."
"Don't I?" Camille's expression darkened. "Then why did I bleed for you? Why do I wake up every night praying her powers consume her from the inside?"
Adrian stared at her.
"That's not love, Camille. That's madness."
She turned away, but the hurt in her posture betrayed her.
---
Later that night, Adrian wandered the Romano estate wall, seeking peace. He shouldn't have been there—he'd snuck out. But something pulled him toward the estate, like a thread winding through his soul.
He stopped when he saw her.
Isabella, alone, standing barefoot on a rooftop terrace under the stars.
She didn't notice him at first. Her hair fluttered in the wind. The pendant around her neck glowed faintly.
He took a breath and stepped into the light.
"You're trespassing," she said without turning.
"You knew I was here?"
"I felt you."
Adrian moved beside her. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"Too many ghosts."
They stood in silence for a while.
Then he said, "She cursed you."
"I know."
"And you didn't retaliate."
"She wants me to fight. If I do, she wins."
"She thinks she already has."
Isabella looked at him then, and for a moment, the years of hatred between them thinned.
"Do you?" she asked.
Adrian swallowed. "No. But I don't know what we're becoming."
Isabella's lips curved slightly. "Weapons."
"No," he said softly. "More than that."
The wind picked up. For a second, their fingers brushed.
Then the estate bells rang.
Adrian stepped back. "That's my cue."
Isabella nodded, watching him retreat into the shadows.
She didn't know if he was friend or foe. But something was changing.
And soon… they would all be forced to choose.
---
Meanwhile, in a cavern beneath the Tribunal Temple, an ancient flame awakened.
A figure cloaked in bone knelt before the fire. His voice was a whisper.
"The heirs have risen. The chains are weakening. It is nearly time."
A pair of crimson eyes opened in the dark.
And they were hungry.