The night was supposed to be a reprieve. It was supposed to be a moment of peace, a time to rest from the madness, to feel like a normal human again. But Jim couldn't escape the turmoil inside. He stood at the window, staring out at the city lights, his reflection flickering against the glass. The black scales that barely covered his skin burned with an intensity that never went away. His eyes glowed in the dark, like embers waiting to ignite.
His mother had made dinner—soup, something simple—but it wasn't the food that mattered. She talked to him as if everything was fine, her soft voice trying to bridge the chasm between them. She never mentioned the darkness in him, never spoke of the fights or the monsters he'd become. She just asked about his day, about how school had been, as though he were the same person who had left that morning.
Jim sat across from her at the small table, his eyes focused on the steam rising from the bowl of soup. He didn't feel hunger, though. He felt… nothing. Empty.
"You're still my son, Jim," she had whispered earlier, when he had looked at her like a stranger. Her hands trembled slightly as she set a plate down before him, but she didn't pull away when he looked at her with those eyes—the cold, calculating eyes of a predator.
"I know," Jim had said, his voice flat, the words meaningless in the weight of the silence between them. He didn't owe her comfort, not anymore. And yet, he stayed. He sat there, pretending. Pretending to be the boy she once knew, pretending to be the son she wanted him to be.
But deep down, the hunger gnawed at him. The blood, the violence, the madness—it never left.
---
The morning came too soon, and Jim slipped back into his routine with mechanical precision. He got up before the sun, showered, and dressed like any other teenager. His school uniform felt like a shackle—a reminder that he was still bound by the mundane rules of the world, even though he had long outgrown them.
He brushed his hair, slicking it back into a controlled style. He passed the mirror, catching a brief glimpse of the dark scales along his neck and jawline. They were faint, hidden beneath the surface of his skin, but Jim felt them—felt them like an itch that couldn't be scratched. The dragon blood within him stirred every time he saw his reflection. It was a constant reminder of who and what he was: a broken creature neither fully human nor fully dragon.
His mother was already awake, humming softly in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for him like she always did. She tried to act like nothing was wrong, trying to believe that things could go back to normal. But Jim could see the cracks in her facade, the way her hands trembled when she set the dishes down, the way she looked at him with that sad, knowing expression. She could see the monster inside him, even if she didn't want to admit it.
Jim didn't say much to her during breakfast. The conversation was shallow, light—just enough to make her believe everything was fine. She asked him how school would be, and he replied with a generic answer, offering no details. Her concern was palpable, but it didn't reach him. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the hunt.
He left the apartment after breakfast, walking with Cassie in tow. She didn't speak much, but he could feel her eyes on him, her unspoken understanding. She knew who he had become. She knew what he was capable of, and she didn't care. In her eyes, he was still Jim—the one person she had ever cared for, the one who had never judged her. It was twisted, but Jim didn't mind. In fact, he welcomed it. It was easier to have her by his side than to have anyone question him.
They reached school, and Jim slipped into the crowd of students like a ghost. His steps were silent, his presence barely acknowledged. He moved with a sense of detachment, his mind already elsewhere. The halls were filled with chatter, the usual noise of teenagers going about their lives, oblivious to the darkness that walked among them.
Jim sat through classes, staring out the window, not caring about the lessons. His mind was consumed by thoughts of his father—the man who had abandoned him, the man who had left him to become this creature. Jim couldn't focus on the teachers' lectures or the kids around him. They were all irrelevant. All of them.
Cassie sat next to him in most of their classes, watching him carefully. She could see the change in him, the madness creeping behind his eyes, the way he seemed to disappear from the world around him. But she didn't care. She was content to let him lead, to let him do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't push her away.
By the time the final bell rang, Jim was already halfway out the door. He didn't wait for Cassie. He didn't need her to follow, but he knew she would. She always did.
The hunt had begun.
---
Jim spent the rest of the afternoon on the streets, walking through the city like a predator stalking its prey. His senses were sharper now—he could smell the faint scent of blood in the air, could hear the soft whispers of people nearby, and he could feel the heat of the city pressing down on him. His father was out there, somewhere, hidden in the shadows. Jim would find him.
It didn't matter what it took. He would kill anyone who stood in his way. The beasts, the humans, the government—it didn't matter. He was Dragonblooded. His power surged through him, rippling under his skin, and his teeth itched to sink into something, to tear apart the world that had abandoned him. His fists clenched at his sides as he moved, a grin stretching across his face—cold, psychotic, and full of madness.
He reached the edge of the city, where the buildings faded into the darker, less traveled parts of town. This was where the real search began. No one asked questions in this part of the city, no one cared. It was the perfect place to disappear.
And disappear, he would. But not until he had his answers.
---
As the sun set, Jim stood in front of a run-down building, his eyes locked on the entrance. His father had been here before, he was sure of it. But the air felt thick, and something in Jim's gut told him it wouldn't be easy. His black-scaled skin seemed to burn with anticipation, his mind racing with possibilities.
Cassie appeared beside him, silent as always. She knew what he was about to do. She didn't stop him.
"You'll find him," she whispered.
Jim's lips curled into a twisted grin. "I will," he said, his voice low and filled with a quiet madness. "And when I do, he'll regret leaving me."
He turned and walked toward the building, his footsteps echoing in the night.
End of Chapter 6