«A strong gust of wind rushed swiftly down the snowy mountains, howling as it passed through the valley; a sound almost as chilling as the winter wind itself. So far north of the Seven Circles, beyond all the Sinful Houses, where nightmares and lesser demons haunted the forest’s edges, even the elements of nature succumbed to fear. A fainter noise rose above the treetops. A sound we had been waiting for. I froze, holding my hand in the air, a silent signal for my hunters to stop. Skin beat in sync with the wind, only an outer layer of angelic white feathers muffled the familiar sound. Like most things in the Underworld, this unexpected plumage was a beautiful deception hiding a sinister purpose.
Dragon hunting had always been dangerous, but also addictive. That fear, the possibility of failure combined with the irresistible urge to surrender to adventure regardless of the cost, was the essence of my House. Most outside the Underworld believed that Gluttony was only about carnal pleasure and revelry. They did not know that our true passion was for the intensity of the moment, for battle. In front of me stood Sylvanus, the dragon I had raised and who now faced me as an opponent. Yet, something in the air was not as usual. An instinct settled in my chest, an invisible warning. And before I could even react, a second dragon attacked, aiming straight for my brother, the Prince of Wrath. The battle had spiraled out of control. The laws of the pact had been shattered. Flames, screams, scales, ice, and blood—all dominated in a single breath. And then I understood: this was no longer a game. It was war.»
