What Happens At The End Of Flight Of The Quetzalcoatlus?

Lucas is a 30 years old Dragon demi-God. He is the son of the fairy goddess and the God of wars. He is more powerful than his peers, which made him the object of respect and jealousy. He is more handsome than a Greek god and ruthless. Lucas lives among humans as a rich businessman. One day, archangel Michael visits him with a purpose. Michael is the one who helped the fairy goddess to protect Lucas after his birth. So Lucas respects him as a godfather. He respects Michael a lot, but he hates their politics. Lucas is straight forward and Michael deals with everything diplomatically. "Lucifer is planning something big to take over the world. None of us can enter into the underworld, but you can. I have a plan to stop him. I need your help for that" Archangel Micahel asks Lucas. "You know I don't like to be involved in your angel politics. You deal with your problems by yourself" Lucas refuses to even listen to the plan. Micael expected this answer. "Your mother is dying, and so is your father. If you help me with this, I will help your parents to reunite in their next life. They can live the kind of life they always wanted" he offered. He is the reason why his parents are dying. So he decided to help the archangel. "Fine, this is the last time I will be helping you. What do you want?" he conceded. "You have to kidnap Lucifer's daughter, Lola. The princess of the underworld" Micahel revealed. Come find out how these two enemies who are always at each other's throats will fall madly in love with each other. What if they find out Lola is a drifter from the fairy world. Who will save her?

"Please, don't eat me," it begged. The voice was that of angels...Another hand gripped the trunk until finally, another eye appeared. One was beautiful, but now both looked back at me with an intensity that would sear into my soul until the day I died. It was a girl, a tiny girl. Her smell continued to be blown in my direction, and by the gods, I swear they were trying to draw her to me."Creed, an exiled dragon, known for his ruthless fighting and disturbing appearance. The dragon elders deemed him unworthy of a mate, the moon goddess would not grant one that was conceived of r*pe.Odessa, a woman who lost her father to cancer, her estranged mother finds her hours later after her father's death, whisks her away to a fantasy world to repay her debt to the Duke of Vamparia. She is now a mere blood bag, but one night fate was on her side. She escaped the vampire kingdom only to find herself found by a beast who takes her under his wings.Together they will unfold a new love and adventure as they try and defeat the vampires that hold humans hostage, for Creed to get his revenge for the new treasure he wants to call his own. Romance blossoms and even a special twist to make your heart squeeze with warmth.

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

On the flight home, the plane starts shaking violently. Certain I'm about to die, I call my husband, Rhys Callahan, to say my last words. He hangs up on me, and his auto-reply flashes on the screen. "Driving. On my way to pick up Daphne." I've taken 86 flights in our five years of marriage. Every time I'm about to land, I ask him to come get me, and every time, the answer is the same. "Daphne's getting in too. I have to pick her up." He picks up Daphne Langston all 86 times. The lowest point comes during a rainstorm. I drag my suitcase through the downpour outside the terminal for two hours, unable to get a ride. When I call him, Daphne's voice comes through, laughing. "Oh, Rhys is helping me with my luggage right now. He can't come to the phone." Now the cabin fills with screaming and sobbing. The plane spirals out of control at cruising altitude, the left wing shearing away as flames light up the windows. My phone buzzes with a message from him. "Just picked Daphne up. What time do you land? I'll come get you." I stare at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. After five years, he's finally offering to pick me up. But fire swallows the plane as it plunges toward the ground. He doesn't know I'm no longer coming home.

While packing Ethan's flight bag, I found a custom solo wings pin. The engraving on the back read: For Lark, to celebrate your first solo. Beneath the box sat the receipt for Skyler's flight school tuition, paid in full by Ethan, along with a photograph. In the photo, she was sitting in the pilot's seat. Ethan's gloved hand rested over hers on the control yoke. Seven years ago, I had sat in that same seat. Back then, I was one step away from my first solo flight, but Ethan talked me out of it again and again, always claiming it was "for my own good." He said flying was dangerous, that someone had to stay home and take care of things. I put down my logbook, pressed the wrinkles out of every one of his captain's uniforms, and spent seven years living by his flight schedule. Only now did I finally understand. It wasn't that he didn't want to take anyone flying. He just didn't want to take me. What made it even more absurd was that the night Skyler first flew through the clouds, I was alone in a hospital, losing our baby. I called him over a dozen times. At three in the morning, he finally called back, his voice flat and indifferent. "I just took Lark through the clouds. Next time something comes up, give me a heads-up." I put the wings pin back exactly where I found it, then pulled the crumpled ultrasound printout from the bottom of the drawer and tucked it inside the logbook that had been gathering dust for seven years. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to look back. He convinced me to leave the pilot's seat, then turned around and put another woman in the sky. So I would leave him and take back the sky that had always been mine.

On the day my father died, his seven most trusted men all met violent deaths within the same twenty-four hours. Hugh Castillo sacrificed his legs to butcher the gang and put me in power. “Taz, don’t be scared. Those monsters are gone. You’re finally free.” In the years he lay paralyzed, I tried over a thousand experimental drugs and prayed at every church across the country. I hunted down every possible remedy, praying for just one that would bring him back to his feet. When Hugh learned of this, he swallowed a bottle of pills one night to end his life. After he was revived, he smiled and wiped the tears from my face. “Taz, I don’t want to be a dead weight. You deserve a better life than this.” That night, we held each other and wept. We swore that from then on, no matter what, we would never leave each other behind. But seven years later, a sweet-looking girl showed up at my door with a thousand photos I was never meant to see. “Every month, while you were praying to God in churches, Huey was busy trying out new positions with me. “Ms. Sheargold, don’t you know that used goods like you kill a man’s desire? It was no wonder he’d rather play the cripple than touch you.” I looked through every single photo, then put them up for auction underground.