The Crown Tournament 3 [Chapter 1]

Hey peeps!

This book is complete and going through editing. It should be out either at the end of Feb or the beginning of March (the pre-order will be coming soon).

Both book 1-2 are on Amazon right now (if you haven't read it).

I hope you enjoy the beginning!

Shami

Chapter 1

“I surrender.”

The words echoed in the vast chamber. My weapons clattered against the floor, the sound sharp. They wobbled for a moment before settling, as if angry that I had abandoned them.

But I had no choice.

There were too many innocent people trapped in this building, too many lives dangling by a thread—Master Elias, Yumi Feng, and the rest of the Feng Family’s guests. And Hyperion, Elias’s mighty syrocko drake, had fallen. After crashing through the ceiling, the mighty beast lay motionless, blood pooling across the Feng Family’s luxurious crimson carpet. He was huge. Large enough for a family to ride upon his back, but he seemed smaller now.

If I refused to surrender, my father would kill everyone.

I knew exactly what kind of man he was. Aziel Theano never made idle threats.

Beside me, Wren trembled, his scaled body low to the ground. He was a syrocko drake—younger and smaller than Hyperion—and barely big enough for me to ride comfortably. But he knelt without hesitation, following my lead.

A second voice broke the silence.

“I surrender, too.”

I turned, surprised. Dario.

I had never expected him to yield to anyone. For as long as I had known him, he had never cared for humans. His world revolved around mystical creatures… the beasts he had grown up with. He had always placed them above everything else.

Yet here he was, surrendering. For Yumi.

Even his two eldrin, Lux and Haoyu, looked startled.

Haoyu, the scarlet-and-gold kunpeng, a creature that could shift between a soaring bird and a swift fish, twitched his brilliant feathered wings. He was one of the oldest eldrin I had ever seen, his body etched with pale scars, reminders of a past filled with war. Lux, his kirin companion, stood firm, muscles taut. Unlike Roux, my kirin, who was slim, quick, built for speed, Lux was massive, thick-muscled, more draft horse than racehorse.

And looming before us, the reason for all of this, stood Aziel Theano.

My father.

He was dressed in his signature steel-gray armor, a cloak billowing behind him. He stood like an immovable pillar, a conqueror surveying the wreckage of yet another victory. He was nearly six and a half feet tall, his broad shoulders seemingly designed to carry the weight of war itself.

But it was the weapons that caught my attention.

In one hand, he held a massive broadsword, clearly some kind of arcane artifact. The blade wasn’t metal but something stranger. It was made with a pale, stone-like material, its edges shimmering with unnatural energy. It was far too large for most men to wield, yet he held it effortlessly, as if it weighed nothing.

Strapped to his back was a monstrous white crossbow, forged entirely from bone. The entire thing looked like it had been ripped from the skeleton of some long-dead beast, handle, and lathe all carved from bleached remains. The bowstring itself pulsed, shifting like living muscle.

Then there was the talisman around his neck.

A sick, fleshy mass, twisted and pulsing, something that had once been alive. Its presence alone made my skin crawl.

This wasn’t a man preparing for an honorable duel. This was a man dressed for slaughter. His lips curled, amusement flickering behind his cold eyes.

“Kismet’s signs foretold the two of you were weak.” He was mocking us. “Two kirin arcanists, surrendering their weapons for the sake of common rabble. Pathetic.”

Behind him, his arcanist friends laughed, low, jeering.

They were legendary dragon arcanists, supposedly the elite of the elite. Yet here they stood, grinning like schoolyard bullies, enjoying the suffering they had wrought.

And behind them stood his beasts.

Aziel’s twilight dragon towered over us, its two heads twisted into cruel smirks. It was a dragon with leathery wings and black scales, because it was night, but during the day it would be white. The twilight dragon’s golden eyes gleamed with malicious delight, its sheer size alone making escape impossible, those vast wings blocked the exit.

Directly beneath it, Kismet, my father’s kirin, stood with tense elegance. He was swift, scarred, a seasoned war mount. Unlike Roux, who was still young, Kismet had seen battle, had survived it.

But they weren’t alone.

To Aziel’s right, a bone dragon loomed, its entire body skeletal, its empty eye sockets staring down at us like twin black holes. Occasionally, sickly green flames flickered within its skull, only to fade back into nothingness. The stench of rot clung to it, a walking corpse, yet undeniably alive.

The arcanist beside it was silent, his gaze as cold as his dragon’s. He was tall, gaunt, his cheek marked by a circular brand, a sign of past enslavement.

To Aziel’s left, an enormous orochi—an eight-headed serpentine dragon—coiled upon itself, its forked tongues flickering hungrily. Two of its heads were focused on us. The other six? Watching the panicked servants, their whimpers filling the massive mansion.

Its arcanist, a thin, twitchy man, wrung his hands. “Lord Aziel, Tyson and Olympus are returning. Just as you predicted, they were by the beach.”

Aziel barely acknowledged him. He simply nodded, then flicked his wrist. A shadow passed over the room.

Something enormous descended from above. A cliffside dragon, its body the color of raw stone, its wings kicking up dust and debris as it landed with a brutal thud.

A burly man slid down from its back, his beady eyes glittering with cruelty. He moved with the patience of a predator, then reached behind him.

I froze.

A flash of silver.

No.

With a casual flick, he tossed something onto the floor.

Someone. A kirin. Its beautiful horse-shaped body sparkling with silvery fur that reminded me of fish scales. It had a horn that was jagged, and looked like crystal. But right now… the kirin was badly injured.

But I knew her.

“Roux!” I shouted, my heart practically stopped in horror.

She hit the ground hard, her silver coat stained with blood, her body limp.

I stumbled forward, my voice cracking. “What… What happened!?”

The kirin lifted her head weakly. Thankfully, she didn’t need to speak. We were connected telepathically. “We were attacked… again. Right when we got everyone on the ship back to land.” She took in a shallow breath. “Julian’s crew ran. They saw what happened to their captain and just fled. Sage, Finlay, Luna… they wanted to fight. But I knew we’d lose. So I ran. As far as I could.”

I clenched my fists. She had done the right thing. And yet...

This situation was impossible.

Four dragon arcanists. More hostages than I could count. My allies wounded and far away. My master gravely injured…

Any rational person would be afraid.

And yet, somewhere, deep inside, I felt something stir.

I focused. Summoned the kirin signs aura. The world should have shifted into silvered light, should have shown me a path forward.

But I saw nothing.

No whispers. No glowing signs.

Nothing.

Aziel’s mouth twitched, his eyes gleaming with understanding.

“Come,” he said, voice rich with satisfaction. “Let’s talk.”