The motel's neon sign buzzed and flickered like it was trying to warn us. A moment later, the sky above us darkened—not from clouds.
From wings.
Four massive shadows eclipsed the moon, descending with bone-rattling screeches.
Drakons.
Not the dragon plushie kind. These things were nightmares poured into scales and teeth—twelve feet tall, wingspans wide enough to cover a semi-truck, their bodies coiled muscle and jagged obsidian armor. Golden, pupil-less eyes locked on us with hungry reverence. We were prey. Or sacrifice. Maybe both.
Lena stood beside me in the parking lot, her machete clutched tight, knuckles bone-white.
"Plan?" she asked.
I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders. "You ever play baseball?"
Before she could ask what the hell that meant, I Shadow Jumped—straight up.
Thirty feet vanished beneath me. In mid-air, I unleashed Telekinesis, every ounce of power I had slamming into the air like a psychic bomb.
Three of the Drakons jerked violently, caught in my grip like oversized marionettes. Their wings spasmed. Their roars cut off.
The fourth—smarter, faster, or just plain luckier—shot toward me with a shriek that shattered the front windows of the motel.
Talons. Teeth. Fire incoming.
I vanished again—flick—and reappeared behind it mid-dive, machete poised.
One clean slash across the spine. The blade bit deep. Black blood erupted, hot and corrosive, splattering across my face.
The Drakon screamed.
Lena, still grounded, moved like she was born in a war zone. She raised both hands toward the wounded one—and her connection to the stone heart pulsed.
The blood exploded out of the wound, forming a red vortex that wrapped around my bone claws and machete like some macabre halo.
"Now!" she yelled.
I didn't wait for a second shout.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
Three teleports. Three precise strikes.
My blood-soaked claws drove into each suspended Drakon's chest, aiming for the cavity beneath the sternum. I felt the bone crack. Felt the unnatural hearts rupture. Their shrieks stopped cold, cut off mid-roar.
Ash and embers.
The smell was scorched metal and victory.
I dropped to the pavement hard, knees buckling. Blood ran from my nose in a hot trail. My skull felt like it had been split in two with a railroad spike, and my vision tilted sideways.
But then—then the power hit.
Hot.
Violent.
Alien.
It flooded my veins like liquid fire, like swallowing a lightning storm whole. I barely had time to process it before the pain started.
My back. My spine felt like it was detonating vertebra by vertebra. I screamed, falling to my hands and knees.
Then came the CRACK.
And then the SNAP.
Wings—my wings—erupted from my shoulders in a flash of obsidian-black and vein-pulsing red. Fifteen feet across, each. Huge. Heavy. Alive.
Lena took two stunned steps back. "Marcus, your—holy shit."
Steam hissed off my skin as I straightened. I could feel the wings, the pull of wind under them, the power humming in every scaled membrane. They weren't just appendages. They were weapons.
New Abilities Unlocked:
Dragon Wings – Flight (Max Speed: 200 mph)
Dragonfire – Blue-white plasma breath (melts steel)
Thermal Resistance – Immunity to extreme heat
Strength Boost – +1 ton (New total: 16 tons)
I flexed instinctively. The wings swept outward, creating a burst of wind that knocked over a parking cone and sent ash swirling like dirty snow.
"Yeah," I said through gritted teeth. "That's… new."
Lena blinked, then kicked through a pile of Drakon remains. "So that just happened."
I focused, thinking about how to tuck the wings away. They responded like muscle—folding back, retracting seamlessly into my shoulder blades. The scales melted into my skin, leaving nothing but the faintest shimmer behind.
"I think we found out why Kharon wanted that armlet so badly," I muttered, wiping blood from my nose.
Lena looked down at her chest, hand hovering over the faint glow of her stone heart. "You think this was his plan all along? For you to… evolve?"
I laughed bitterly. "If it was, he probably didn't account for me hijacking the upgrade."
Headlights swung into the lot, bright against the lingering smoke.
The familiar purr of a Chevy Impala cut through the silence like gospel.
Dean Winchester leaned out the window. "Tell me we didn't just miss a damn dragon fight."
Sam jumped out of the passenger side, cradling a massive leather-bound tome. "We figured out how to kill them. Silver's useless—you need blades laced with enchanted obsidian and—" He trailed off, eyes drifting to the piles of ash.
Then to me.
Then to the wings.
Then back to the ash.
"…You didn't wait for us."
I shrugged. "Had a coupon for early bird slaughter."
Bobby was last out, flannel and fury radiating from every step as he stormed toward us.
"Idjits!" he snapped, throwing up his arms. "You coulda gotten yourselves roasted! Drakons don't play nice!"
I held up my claws, still slick with cooling blood, and let my wings re-emerge just enough to be dramatic.
"Yeah. But they bleed like anything else."
Dean's jaw dropped. "No. Freakin'. Way."
Lena crossed her arms and muttered, "Great. He's going to be unbearable now."
"Already am," I quipped, taking the flask Bobby begrudgingly tossed me. "Thanks, Dad."
He muttered something about damn kids and dragons and stomped off to the trunk of the Impala, probably to find holy water or aspirin.
I took a deep swig. It burned like battery acid and bad decisions.
Sam flipped through the book again, his face twisted in thought. "The armlet. It wasn't just ceremonial. It was meant to draw out the vessel's transformation. Kharon's vessel."
Lena met my eyes. "Which means it was meant for you and me."
I clenched the flask harder. "Too bad he forgot to read the fine print. You and me don't belong to anyone."
Far away—impossibly far, in a place untouched by time or space—something shifted.
Kharon's realm.
He felt the deaths of his Drakons like broken ribs in his divine chest. Felt the power rerouted, torn from the sacred and claimed by a thief. A usurper.
Marcus Hale.
Cracks spread through the obsidian statue buried in the ritual cave, running down its hollow eyes and twisted grin. The stone split.
This was not part of the design.
This was not ordained.
In the black beyond, Kharon's voice bled into the world like poison:
"M̸A̷R̸C̸U̶S̴ ̸H̷A̶L̵E̷ ̶W̸I̴L̸L̴ ̷B̶U̷R̸N̶ ̸F̴O̸R̷ ̵T̷H̵I̸S̶."
But somewhere, under the wrath and fury… was something else.
Doubt.
I felt it like a splinter in my mind. A chill. A whisper of panic from something ancient and arrogant.
He was supposed to mold me.
Instead, I'd beaten him to the punch.