The warehouse loomed like a forgotten relic on the edge of town, its rusted metal walls groaning under the weight of midnight. Ben Wilson, all of 18 and barely a whisper of muscle on his scrawny frame, shuffled through the broken doorway, his flashlight flickering like his courage. He’d heard the rumors—ghosts, cults, weird shit—but curiosity had dragged him here anyway. His sneakers crunched on shattered glass, the sound echoing louder than his hammering heart.
“Great idea, Ben,” he muttered to himself, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses. “Sneak into a creepy warehouse at midnight. What’s the worst that could happen? Oh, right, serial killers. Or rats. Or tetanus.”
Before he could spiral further into his nerdy panic, a voice sliced through the darkness—low, commanding, and dripping with authority. “Who the hell are you, and why are you trespassing on our turf?”
Ben froze, flashlight beam swinging wildly until it landed on three women who looked like they’d stepped out of a fantasy novel—or a very dangerous fever dream. The tallest, a striking woman with obsidian hair pulled into a tight braid, stood at the forefront. Her piercing green eyes pinned him in place, and the leather jacket she wore did little to hide the taut muscles beneath. She was flanked by two others: a brooding beauty with a short, choppy bob and a gaze that screamed ‘I’d rather be anywhere else,’ and a younger, fiery vixen in booty shorts and a cropped top that left little to the imagination, her smirk as sharp as a blade.
“Uh… I-I’m Ben. Ben Wilson. I didn’t mean to— I was just— exploring?” His voice cracked, and he cursed himself internally. Real smooth, idiot.
The eldest stepped forward, her boots clicking against the concrete with purpose. “Exploring, huh? You’ve got the build of a wet noodle and the nerve of a rabbit. I’m Simone Robinson, and these are my sisters, Jasmine and Zuir. You’ve just stumbled into Night Wind Tribe territory, kid. Bad move.”
Jasmine, the brooding one, crossed her arms, her amber eyes narrowing. “Can we just toss him out already? He looks like he’d cry if we raised our voices.”
Zuir, the youngest, let out a wicked laugh, sauntering closer to Ben. Her hips swayed with every step, and she tilted her head, inspecting him like a predator toying with prey. “Oh, come on, Jas. Look at him. He’s adorable. Like a lost puppy with bad glasses. What’s your deal, nerd boy? You here to steal our secrets or just wet your pants?”
Ben’s face burned, and he stammered, “I-I’m not— I didn’t— I’m sorry, okay? I’ll leave. Right now. Promise.”
Simone held up a hand, silencing him instantly. “Not so fast. You’ve seen us. That’s a problem. But…” Her gaze raked over him, calculating. “You might be useful. Jasmine, what do you think? He’s got the right… vibe.”
Jasmine sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. But if this blows up, it’s on you, Simone. Let’s get this over with.” She stepped forward, pulling a small dagger from her belt. Before Ben could even yelp, she sliced a thin line across her palm, dark blood welling up. “Hold still, twig. This is gonna sting.”
“W-what are you doing?!” Ben squeaked, but Simone’s iron grip on his shoulder kept him rooted.
“Shut up and trust us,” Simone barked, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re about to get an upgrade, kid. Don’t make me regret this.”
Jasmine pressed her bleeding palm to Ben’s chest, right over his racing heart. A searing heat shot through him, and he gasped, his vision blurring as his body convulsed. Muscles he didn’t even know he had began to tighten, expand, rippling under his skin. His back arched as something tore through his flesh—wings, black as midnight, unfurling with a powerful snap. Four of them. He stumbled, catching himself on a crate, his jeans suddenly way too tight in all the wrong—or right—places.
“Holy… crap,” he breathed, staring at his reflection in a broken window. He was… jacked. And winged. And… other things.
Zuir whistled low, circling him like a shark. “Damn, nerd boy. Look at you now. Those wings? Rare as hell. And that package? Let’s just say you’re packing more than just courage now.” She winked, and Ben’s face turned tomato-red.
“Zuir, behave,” Simone snapped, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “He’s got black wings. That’s a sign. He’s one of us now—maybe more. We’re taking him home.”
“Home?” Ben croaked, still reeling. “I have school tomorrow. And a curfew. And—”
Jasmine cut him off, her voice dry as bone. “Curfew’s the least of your worries, newbie. You’re a dragon now. Act like it.”
Simone pulled a glowing blue stone from her jacket, murmuring words Ben couldn’t understand. A shimmering portal tore open in the air, revealing a dense forest on the other side, bathed in an eerie, otherworldly glow. “Move your ass, Ben,” she ordered, shoving him toward the rift. “You’re about to meet the Night Wind Tribe. Don’t embarrass us.”
Stepping through felt like walking through a wall of static, and when Ben emerged, he was surrounded by towering trees and the scent of wild earth. Dragons—actual dragons—lounged in human form, their scales glinting under moonlight as they stared at him, murmurs rippling through the crowd. His black wings drew gasps, and he felt the weight of their awe—and suspicion.
Simone raised her voice, commanding the clearing. “This is Ben Wilson, newly blooded of our kin. Those wings mark him as a leader, a rarity among us. He’s here to guide us through the war with the vampires and succubi. Any objections?”
A burly man with silver scales stepped forward, sneering. “This twig? A leader? He looks like he’d snap in a breeze.”
Zuir laughed, loud and sharp. “Oh, he’s got more than twigs now, Rokan. Wanna see?” She grabbed the hem of Ben’s shirt and yanked it up before he could protest, exposing his chiseled torso and the base of his wings. The crowd fell silent, then erupted in murmurs of approval.
Ben yanked his shirt back down, mortified. “Can you not?!”
Jasmine smirked for the first time, leaning close. “Get used to it, hotshot. You’re a walking spectacle now. Own it.”
Simone led him to a small cabin nestled among the trees, her sisters trailing behind. “This is yours, Ben. You’re one of us, but you’ve got a war to navigate. Vampires and succubi are tearing through our borders. We need strategy, not just muscle.”
Ben, still adjusting to the surreal turn his life had taken, rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, uh… what if we don’t fight? What if we… negotiate? A truce. I mean, I’m new, but maybe a fresh perspective could—”
Zuir burst out laughing, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. “A truce? With bloodsuckers and soul-stealers? Oh, you’re precious. I can’t wait to see their faces when you stroll in with that baby face and those big, shiny wings. They’ll eat you alive—literally.”
Simone’s eyes gleamed with something like respect, though her tone stayed sharp. “Bold, I’ll give you that. Reckless, but bold. We’ll set up a meeting with their leaders. But if you screw this up, Ben, I’ll personally toss you to their fangs. Understood?”
Ben swallowed hard, nodding. “Got it. No pressure or anything.”
Jasmine leaned against the cabin door, her gaze cutting through him. “Better grow a spine fast, newbie. Or at least learn to fake one. We’re not babysitters.”
As the sisters turned to leave, Zuir threw a wink over her shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late thinking about us, dragon boy. Or do. I like a man with… imagination.”
Ben stood alone in the doorway of his new cabin, heart pounding, wings twitching, and a million thoughts racing through his mind. He was a dragon. A leader. And apparently, a target for every witty barb these fierce women could throw. But as he glanced at the forest realm around him, a spark of something ignited in his chest. Nerves, sure. But also… excitement. Whatever came next—war, truces, or more of Zuir’s teasing—he was ready to dive in. Or at least, he’d fake it ‘til he made it.
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