The path to Millbrook wound through gentle hills and past clusters of farmsteads where Ren could see people going about their daily lives. Farmers tended fields with tools that glowed with enchantments, children played games that involved floating balls of light, and merchants traveled on carts pulled by creatures that looked like horses but shimmered with elemental magic.
It was peaceful. Normal, in a way that made Ren's chest ache with longing.
"You could have this," the nature dragon whispered, her voice soft as spring rain. "A quiet life. A simple existence."
"Could I?" Ren asked under his breath, careful not to be overheard by the occasional traveler on the road.
The crimson dragon's laughter was like crackling flames. "With seven dragon wives bound to your soul? Oh, beloved, you were never meant for simple."
As if to prove her point, the air around Ren began to shimmer more intensely. The phenomenon had been building for the past hour—reality seeming to bend and waver at the edges of his vision. Other travelers didn't seem to notice, but Ren could feel something powerful pressing against the barriers between worlds.
"She's almost through," the storm dragon observed, electricity crackling through her words. "Vermillion was always the most... eager of us."
"Vermillion?" Ren repeated.
"The Crimson Dragon of Conquest," the shadow dragon explained. "Fire and dominion are her domains. She was your first mark, your first bond. It's fitting that she should be your first reunion."
The shimmer intensified, and suddenly the temperature around Ren spiked. The grass beneath his feet began to smoke, and the air itself seemed to catch fire. He quickly stepped off the main path, not wanting to alarm any other travelers.
"Is this going to be... obvious?" he asked nervously.
The chorus of dragon laughter in his mind wasn't reassuring.
Reality tore.
It started as a small rent in the air, no bigger than his fist, but it rapidly expanded. Through the gap, Ren could see not another landscape but something that looked like the heart of a volcano—molten stone and dancing flames as far as the eye could see.
Then she stepped through.
Vermillion was everything the voice in his head had promised and more. Tall, statuesque, with curves that seemed designed to drive men to madness. Her skin held a faint golden undertone that suggested inner fire, and her hair cascaded down her back in waves of deep crimson that literally flickered with flames at the tips. When she smiled, her canines were slightly pointed, and her eyes...
Her eyes were molten gold, ancient and predatory and absolutely fixated on him.
"Hello, beloved," she purred, her voice carrying the same sultry warmth he'd been hearing in his mind. "Did you miss me?"
The rift sealed itself behind her with a sound like breaking glass, leaving no trace of the dimensional tear except for the lingering scent of sulfur and roses.
Ren stared, his mouth suddenly dry. "You're... real."
"As real as the fire in your blood." She stepped closer, and he could feel heat radiating from her like a living furnace. "Though I prefer the term 'magnificently tangible.'"
She was wearing what could charitably be called a dress—flowing red silk that seemed to move with a life of its own, clinging to her form in ways that made Ren's enhanced hearing pick up the acceleration of his own heartbeat. Golden jewelry adorned her throat and wrists, each piece carved with draconic symbols that pulsed with inner fire.
"How are you here?" Ren managed. "I thought you were bound to me, not..."
"We are bound to you," Vermillion agreed, reaching out to trace one finger along his jaw. Her touch burned in the most pleasant way possible. "But the stronger you become, the more we can manifest in this realm. Your awakening of our power, your growth... it feeds our ability to take physical form."
The implications hit him like a thunderbolt. "All seven of you can—"
"Eventually." Her smile was predatory. "Though I claimed the privilege of being first. The others will have to wait their turn."
Behind him, Ren heard the creak of wagon wheels and quickly turned to see a merchant's cart approaching on the main road. He grabbed Vermillion's hand—noting absently that her skin was fever-warm to the touch—and pulled her further into the trees.
"People will see you," he hissed. "How am I supposed to explain—"
"That you're traveling with a beautiful woman?" Vermillion's eyebrow arched elegantly. "Men have been known to do such things, beloved. Though..." She looked down at her clearly expensive and exotic clothing. "Perhaps a small adjustment is in order."
She waved her hand, and her outfit shimmered. The flowing silk transformed into more practical traveling clothes—leather pants, a fitted tunic, and a hooded cloak that would help conceal her otherworldly beauty. The golden jewelry remained but took on a more subdued appearance.
"Better?" she asked.
"How did you—?"
"Illusion magic, beloved. Fire dragons aren't limited to flames and destruction, you know. We can be quite... versatile." Her smile turned wicked. "In many ways."
Ren felt his face heating up for reasons that had nothing to do with her proximity to a fire elemental.
In his mind, the other dragon wives' voices had gone notably quiet, but he could feel their presence—watching, weighing, perhaps judging how he reacted to Vermillion's physical manifestation.
"So what now?" he asked. "You just... travel with me?"
"For now," she agreed, falling into step beside him as they returned to the path. "Until you're strong enough for all of us to manifest permanently. Consider me your... guide. Your introduction to the more intimate aspects of our bond."
The way she said 'intimate' made Ren's enhanced senses pick up a dozen different implications, none of which he was prepared to think about.
"The others won't like this," he said, though he wasn't sure why he was so certain of that.
Vermillion's laughter was like the chime of silver bells heated by fire. "Oh, beloved. The others are positively seething with jealousy. But they agreed—the first to manifest would have... exclusive time with you. At least until we reach a more suitable location for proper introductions."
"Proper introductions?"
"Well, we can hardly have all seven of us manifesting in the middle of a farming community," she pointed out reasonably. "Think of the gossip. Think of the questions. Think of the complete breakdown of local social order when seven dragon wives start competing for your attention in public."
Ren hadn't thought of that. The idea of seven women like Vermillion all vying for his attention simultaneously was both terrifying and, if he was being honest with himself, more than a little appealing.
"Besides," Vermillion continued, slipping her arm through his with casual possessiveness, "this gives us time to get... reacquainted. It's been so long since we could touch you properly."
Her fingers trailed along his forearm, and Ren felt the crimson sigil beneath his skin pulse in response. Power flowed between them—her draconic fire feeding into his magical reserves, his human vitality somehow nourishing her manifestation.
"The bond works both ways," she explained, noticing his surprised expression. "You draw power from us, but we draw life from you. The more you grow, the stronger we become. The stronger we become, the more we can help you grow."
"A feedback loop," Ren realized.
"A very intimate feedback loop," she agreed, squeezing his arm. "Among other things."
They walked in companionable silence for a while, Ren trying to process the reality of having one of his dragon wives physically present while Vermillion seemed content to simply exist beside him, occasionally humming contentedly under her breath.
It was... nice, actually. Despite everything—the circumstances of his death, the bizarre rebirth, the voices in his head, the overwhelming power he didn't understand—having someone real and warm beside him felt almost normal.
Until they crested a hill and saw Millbrook spread out below them.
The town was larger than Ren had expected, with perhaps a few thousand inhabitants. Stone and wood buildings clustered around a central square, smoke rising from countless chimneys. But what caught his attention were the structures that clearly didn't belong in a normal medieval fantasy setting—crystal formations that pulsed with stored magical energy, floating platforms that moved goods between warehouses, and what looked like a massive gate facility on the town's outskirts.
"A gate town," Vermillion observed. "How convenient."
"Convenient for what?"
Her smile showed just a hint of fang. "For testing your abilities properly, beloved. And for giving me a chance to see exactly what kind of man you've become."
As they descended toward Millbrook, Ren couldn't shake the feeling that his quiet introduction to this new world was about to become significantly more complicated.
Especially when he noticed the way every male in their vicinity turned to stare at Vermillion despite her concealing cloak, and the way she seemed to radiate an aura of confident possession whenever she looked at him.
Seven dragon wives, and this was just the first one.
What had he gotten himself into?