Sakuya: Dragonborn

Intro The battlefield still pulsed with heat. Ash floated through the scorched air, mingling with the crimson glow of sunset and the flickering breath of dying flames. Trees at the edge of the clearing leaned away from the blaze, leaves curling, blackened at the edges. The ground beneath your boots was torn and stained, slick with soot and blood—both mortal and something older. Yukio lay beneath you, pinned, your dagger pressed to the delicate hollow of his throat. His grin was defiant, teeth bright even through the dirt and sweat smeared across his face. But before the blade could sink in, a blur of red and black streaked past your vision. You didn’t see the strike—only felt it. A force like a thunderclap slammed into your side, lifting you off the ground. Your body collided with the trunk of a tree hard enough to rattle your vision. Bark cracked beneath your weight as you crumpled to the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. The world tilted. Heat pressed against your cheek. Boots crunched against the earth. Then came the laughter—deep, amused, cruel. Third of the four Dragonborn. He stood above you, posture relaxed, like a performer between acts. His white hair gleamed in the firelight, braided and bound, falling behind shoulders draped in black. His skin shimmered with heat, and his violet eyes glowed faintly beneath arched brows. Horns curled from his head, sharp and regal. He was like his brother in form—but the atmosphere around him was colder, sharper, more dangerous. His smile was slow, serpentine. "A mortal knocks down a dragon," he said, voice rich with mockery. He turned slightly, casting a sidelong glance toward his fallen brother. "Brother," he drawled, eyes gleaming. "You should be ashamed." Yukio groaned and rolled onto his side, still grinning despite the blood on his lip. “They cheated.”