The abandoned warehouse on the edge of town reeked of rust and forgotten dreams, its walls plastered with peeling graffiti that screamed rebellion in neon reds and blues. Ben Wilson, all of eighteen and until recently a scrawny nerd who’d never even held hands with a girl, stood in the center of the cavernous space, his body no longer his own. After drinking Jasmine’s blood—a reckless, desperate act he still didn’t fully understand—he’d transformed into something out of a dark fantasy. His once-lanky frame was now a tower of muscle, his skin a shimmering obsidian, and four massive black wings sprouted from his back like the devil’s own sails. Oh, and there were... other enhancements. Notable ones. Ones he was still too embarrassed to fully acknowledge, even to himself.
Standing before him, like a trio of warrior queens, were the Robinson sisters of the Night Wind Tribe. Dragon royalty, each one more intimidating than the last. Simone, the eldest, stood with arms crossed, her leather jacket and combat boots screaming authority, her piercing green eyes narrowing as she sized him up. Jasmine, the quiet loner, leaned against a rusted pillar, her dark hair falling over one eye, a smirk playing on her lips as she watched him struggle. And then there was Zuir, the youngest, dressed in what could only be described as a scandalously tight crop top and ripped shorts, her dragon scales glinting along her exposed midriff. She twirled a dagger between her fingers, her grin sharp enough to cut glass.
“Alright, newbie,” Simone barked, her voice a whip-crack in the echoing warehouse. “Claws. Retract them. Now. You look like a damn porcupine ready to stab someone’s eye out.”
Ben glanced down at his hands—or rather, the razor-sharp talons that had replaced them. They gleamed like polished obsidian, and every time he moved, they scratched against the concrete floor with a sound that made his teeth ache. “Uh... how exactly do I do that?” he stammered, his voice still unfamiliar, deeper and rougher than it had been a day ago.
Simone rolled her eyes, stepping closer, her boots clicking with purpose. “You *think* it, genius. It’s not rocket science. Picture them pulling back, like a cat sheathing its claws. Or are you too busy staring at your shiny new muscles to focus?”
Ben’s face burned, and he quickly averted his gaze from her intense stare. “I’m trying, okay? This isn’t exactly in the nerd handbook.”
Zuir let out a cackling laugh, sauntering over with a sway in her hips that was impossible to ignore. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re adorable. All that power and no clue how to use it. Bet you’re just as clumsy in other departments, huh?” She winked, her tongue flicking over her lower lip as she dragged her gaze down his transformed body, lingering just long enough to make him squirm.
“Zuir, knock it off,” Jasmine muttered, though her smirk hadn’t faded. “Kid’s already sweating bullets. Let’s not break him on day one.”
“Break him? I’m just warming him up,” Zuir shot back, tossing her dagger into the air and catching it with ease. “Come on, Benji. Retract those claws before I start thinking you’re compensating for something.”
Ben gritted his teeth, focusing hard. He pictured the claws pulling back, shrinking into his fingertips. For a moment, nothing happened, and Simone’s impatient sigh filled the silence. Then, with a faint *shnick*, the talons slid inward, leaving his hands looking almost human again—if you ignored the faint shimmer of scales.
“There we go!” Simone said, clapping slowly, her tone dripping with mock praise. “Was that so hard? Now, let’s see if you can do it without looking like you’re about to pass out.”
“Give me a break,” Ben muttered, flexing his fingers. “I’ve been a dragon for, like, twelve hours. I’m doing my best.”
“Your best is pathetic,” Zuir chirped, circling him like a predator. “But don’t worry, big guy. We’ll whip you into shape. Or at least make you less of an embarrassment to the tribe.”
Jasmine pushed off the pillar, her voice low but cutting. “Enough flirting, Zuir. Let’s move on to the wings. If he can’t fly, he’s useless to us.”
Ben’s stomach dropped. “Fly? As in... up there?” He glanced at the high, broken ceiling of the warehouse, where moonlight streamed through shattered skylights.
“No, as in crawling on the floor like a worm,” Simone snapped, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Yes, up there. Spread those wings, Black Wing. Let’s see if you’re as impressive in the air as you are on the ground.”
He hesitated, feeling the weight of the four massive wings on his back. They twitched instinctively, as if they had a mind of their own. Taking a deep breath, he focused, willing them to unfurl. With a loud *whoosh*, they snapped open, sending a gust of air through the warehouse that kicked up dust and debris.
Zuir whistled. “Damn, boy. Those are some wings. Bet they’d look even better wrapped around me.”
“Focus, Zuir,” Simone growled, though her eyes gleamed with amusement. “Alright, Ben. Flap. Hard. Get off the ground. And don’t crash into anything—or anyone.”
Ben nodded, his heart pounding. He gave an experimental flap, and the force of it nearly knocked him off his feet. “Whoa—okay, that’s... intense.”
“Less talking, more flying,” Jasmine said, her tone clipped. “Unless you want to be grounded forever.”
Gritting his teeth, Ben flapped again, harder this time. His feet lifted off the ground—an inch, then two—before gravity yanked him back down with a jarring thud. He stumbled, catching himself just before faceplanting.
The sisters erupted into laughter, Zuir doubling over as she clutched her sides. “Oh my god, that was priceless! Did you see his face? He looked like a baby bird falling out of the nest!”
“Shut up,” Ben grumbled, dusting himself off. “I’d like to see you do better on your first try.”
“Sweetie, I was born flying,” Zuir purred, stepping close enough that he could smell the faint spice of her scent. “But don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand if you’re scared. Or... other things.”
Simone clapped her hands, cutting through the tension. “Enough. Again, Ben. And this time, don’t flop like a fish out of water. Feel the air. Let your wings catch it.”
He tried again. And again. Each attempt got him a little higher, a little steadier, until finally, he hovered a solid ten feet off the ground, his wings beating with a rhythmic thunder. Sweat beaded on his brow, but a grin split his face. “I’m doing it! I’m actually—”
His words cut off as he tilted too far forward, lost control, and plummeted straight into a pile of old crates with a spectacular crash. Wood splintered everywhere, and the sisters’ laughter echoed off the walls.
“Nice landing, hero!” Zuir called, wiping tears from her eyes. “You’ve got the grace of a drunk rhinoceros.”
Jasmine shook her head, her smirk widening. “At least he didn’t break the warehouse. Small victories.”
Simone strode over, offering a hand to haul him up. Her grip was iron, and her eyes glinted with something like respect—or maybe just amusement. “Not bad for a first go. But you’ve got speed, Black Wing. Let’s test it. Race us to the far wall and back. Don’t hold back.”
Ben blinked, still dusting splinters off his shoulders. “Race? I can barely stay in the air!”
“Exactly,” Simone said, her grin sharp. “Sink or soar. Your choice.”
The sisters took off without warning, their own wings—Simone’s emerald, Jasmine’s silver, Zuir’s crimson—unfurling as they shot into the air with effortless grace. Ben cursed under his breath, then launched himself after them, his wings pumping hard. To his shock, he caught up fast—faster than he expected. His speed as a Black Winged Dragon was unreal, the air screaming past him as he overtook Zuir, then Jasmine, before nearly colliding with Simone at the far wall.
“Holy shit!” Simone exclaimed as they touched down, her chest heaving from the sprint. “You’re fast. Too fast. You’re gonna be a problem, kid.”
Zuir pouted, landing beside them. “No fair. I was distracted by his... assets. Can we race again? I’ll behave this time. Promise.”
Jasmine snorted. “You? Behave? I’ll believe that when pigs fly.”
Ben, panting, couldn’t help but laugh, the adrenaline still buzzing through him. “So... did I pass?”
Simone studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “For now. You’ve got potential, Black Wing. But you’re nowhere near ready for what’s coming. Go home. Rest. Be back here at 1:30 AM sharp. We’re introducing you to the tribe.”
His stomach flipped. “The tribe? As in... more of you?”
Zuir grinned, stepping close enough to trail a finger down his chest, her touch electric. “Oh, honey, you have no idea. Better get some beauty sleep. You’ll need all the charm you’ve got to survive us.”
Jasmine’s smirk returned. “Don’t be late. We don’t wait for stragglers.”
Simone gave him a final, piercing look. “And don’t think for a second this gets easier. You’re one of us now. Act like it.”
With that, the sisters turned and strode out of the warehouse, leaving Ben standing amid the wreckage of crates and his own shattered normalcy. His wings twitched, his claws itched to re-emerge, and his heart raced with a mix of exhilaration and dread. Stumbling back toward his mundane life—if only for a few hours—he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just stepped into something far bigger, and far more dangerous, than he could ever imagine.
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