The city of Volterra was a maze of towering glass buildings and narrow alleyways, where every shadow whispered secrets, and every light flickered with the promise of power. From the rooftops, it looked almost peaceful, the skyline kissed by the soft orange glow of the setting sun. But the peace was deceptive, as fragile as the families who ruled from the underbelly, pulling strings like puppeteers in a deadly game of power.

From my vantage point, perched atop the Ignelli estate's highest balcony, I could see it all—the sprawling city I was meant to rule. Below me, the Ignelli family's soldiers patrolled the grounds, their movements sharp and efficient, just as my father demanded. The Ignelli name carried weight in this world. It was synonymous with fear and control, two things I was supposed to master by now.

But what my father didn't know, what none of them knew, was that I had been staring at this city, at my inheritance, with a growing sense of dread.

"Luca."

My name snapped me back to reality. I turned to see my father standing in the doorway of the balcony, his silhouette imposing, even in the dying light. His suit was sharp, tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, and his dark eyes bored into me with the intensity of a man who expected nothing less than perfection.

"Have you been listening?" he asked, his voice cool, but there was an edge to it—a warning.

I hadn't been. "Yes, Father."

He stepped forward, his shoes clicking against the stone floor. He didn't need to ask again. I knew what this was about. The annual Ignelli family summit was tonight, where we met with the other mafia families to discuss alliances, territories, and threats. More importantly, it was a chance for me to prove that I was ready to take the mantle as the next leader of the Ignelli.

"You seem distracted," he said, stopping just short of me. "You cannot afford distractions, Luca. Not tonight."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. My mind was always distracted lately, but not for the reasons he thought. It wasn't the responsibility of leading the family that weighed on me; it was Ignis—the fire spirit bound to our bloodline for generations.

The spirit's presence had grown stronger over the past year, its voice more insistent, more demanding. Every day, it whispered to me, tempting me with its power, trying to pull me into the abyss that had consumed my ancestors. I could feel it now, simmering beneath my skin, like an ember waiting to ignite.

"Tonight, you will make the pact official," my father continued, unaware of the turmoil inside me. "The ritual will solidify your bond with Ignis and secure our family's control over the city. Do you understand what's at stake?"

I nodded. "I understand."

But I didn't. Not fully. Not like he did. My father had embraced his bond with Ignis years ago, using the spirit's fire to carve out our empire, to burn anyone who dared oppose us. He believed that Ignis was the key to our power, and that without it, the Ignelli family would crumble.

But I'd seen what the fire did to him. I'd seen how it consumed him, how it left him colder and more ruthless with each passing year, as if the flames had burned away his humanity.

"Good," he said, his gaze softening for a moment, though it was fleeting. "Make sure you're ready. The ritual must be completed before the summit."

With that, he turned and left, leaving me alone on the balcony once again.

I clenched my fists, feeling the warmth of Ignis pulsing beneath my skin, waiting, always waiting. I had been raised to believe that the fire was our greatest strength, but more and more, it felt like a curse—a voice in my head that wasn't my own, a hunger I couldn't control.

I glanced at the horizon, where the sun was sinking behind the buildings, casting long shadows over the city. Somewhere out there, the other families were preparing too. The Aquaeren family, with their control over water, had always been our biggest rivals. Theirs was a power that could extinguish ours if they ever gained the upper hand.

And then there were the rumors—the whispers of a figure known as the Breaker. Someone, or something, that could sever the pacts between humans and spirits. My father dismissed the rumors as nonsense, but I couldn't help but wonder. If there was a way to break the pact with Ignis, to free myself from the fire's grip, would I take it?

A knock at my door pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to see Emilio, my cousin, standing in the doorway. He was younger than me by a few years, lean and quick, with sharp eyes that always seemed to be sizing people up. Emilio was one of the few people in the family I actually trusted, even though he had fully embraced the Ignelli way of life.

"The preparations are almost complete," Emilio said. "The ritual is set. Are you ready?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "I'm ready."

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You don't have to pretend with me, Luca. I know what you're feeling."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"You're worried about the pact," he said, stepping closer. "I would be too. It's not easy, binding yourself to a spirit. But it's the price we pay for power."

"Ignis is…different," I said quietly. "It's not just a power. It's a presence. It's always there, pushing, pulling."

Emilio smirked. "That's what makes it powerful. You just have to learn to control it, instead of letting it control you."

Easier said than done, I thought. But I didn't say it out loud. Emilio wouldn't understand. He was too eager, too loyal to the family's way of thinking. For him, the power was everything.

"I'll manage," I said, keeping my voice steady.

He clapped me on the shoulder. "Good. Let's get this over with, then. After tonight, you'll be stronger than ever."

Stronger. The word echoed in my mind as we left the balcony and made our way down the winding halls of the Ignelli estate. The mansion was a fortress, its walls lined with portraits of ancestors who had ruled before us, each of them bound to Ignis, each of them consumed by it.

We descended into the basement, where the ritual chamber awaited. The air grew colder as we went deeper, and I could feel the fire within me stir, sensing what was to come. Emilio walked ahead, his steps confident, while I followed, my thoughts swirling.

The chamber was dimly lit by flickering torches, their flames dancing in the still air. At the center of the room was a large stone altar, surrounded by ancient symbols carved into the floor. A brazier sat at the foot of the altar, already burning with a low, steady flame—the flame of Ignis.

My father was there, along with the family's elder council, their faces lined with age and power. They turned as we entered, their gazes settling on me with expectation.

"Luca," my father said, stepping forward. "It is time."

I approached the altar, feeling the heat of the fire grow stronger, its pull more insistent. My heart pounded in my chest as I knelt before the brazier, the flames reflecting in my eyes.

The ritual was simple, but its significance was monumental. I would offer my blood to the fire, and in return, Ignis would bind itself to me completely. The power would be mine, but so too would the spirit's will.

I took the ceremonial dagger from the altar, its blade gleaming in the firelight. My hand shook as I brought it to my palm, but I forced myself to stay steady. I couldn't show fear. Not here. Not now.

With a swift motion, I sliced my hand, letting the blood drip into the brazier. The flames roared to life, flaring higher, brighter, as if they were feeding on my very essence. I could feel Ignis surge within me, its voice louder than ever.

I am fire. I am power. Together, we will burn the world.

The words echoed in my mind, a promise and a threat all at once. I gritted my teeth, trying to push the voice away, but it was no use. The fire was inside me now, deeper than ever, consuming every part of me.

My father watched, his expression unreadable. To him, this was a moment of triumph—the moment his heir would finally embrace their destiny. But all I could feel was the weight of the flames, the burning presence of Ignis settling over me like a shroud.

The ritual was complete.

I stood, my hand still bleeding, but the pain was distant, dulled by the overwhelming presence of the fire. The council members murmured their approval, but I barely heard them. All I could hear was the crackling of the flames, the whisper of Ignis in my ear.

Burn them all.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but I knew that from this moment on, nothing would ever be the same.

The fire had claimed me.

And there was no turning back.