Avenger Wings Novels & Stories

She yanked him to the floor while the other vampires in the room that had almost sucked Nanny dry rushed over to help Luca out but some men barged in wearing purple and with the same mask as Raven's. They helped in capturing the two men whilst one of them brought Raven a strange looking knife. Raven held it close to Luca's back and slashed his back from his shirt. Carly shivered on seeing this, Luca was forcing himself not to cry out from the pain. "A message from me to your father. Show him your back son" Raven said and signalled his men to drop the twins back home. "Take the vamps with you to the lab" Raven said "You will never succeed in bringing us down. Father will come for you" Carly y

While she carried her continuously threatening tone with him, she made no actual threat that was verbalised. Unfurling his wings and cowering into a ball within them, Ingram responded back nervously. Fumbling over some of his words as he spoke. "HE IS A WEREWOLF PRINCESS!! PLEASE- PRINCESS SEPHORA CALM YOURSELF!" His wings were an appropriate, navy which was almost black, colour for someone living in the Noble District. They were beginning to show that grey speckling in his feathers, a show of age among all harpy, but usually most noticeable on Ravens and darker feather Clan's first. Like that of Maven's but not quite as much yet.

“Are you my boyfriend or my bodyguard?” He held his ring in front of me, my eyes were magnetized by the intricate carvings on it. “Guardian angel, remember?” He straightened up on his seat, and in a louder than necessary voice, he said, “And unlike the last one you had, I have a sword, not a halo. And my wings are black, not white. It’s time they realized who they will have a problem with the next time they hurt even a single hair in your body!” My eyes widened at him. He took my hand in his again, and then he bent down to kiss my fingers once again. “I love you, angel.” He didn’t even whisper that. I was sure many people around us heard everything he said.

"The wings generate their shields! Clip them, and they die like anything else!" Elias Vance didn't need to be told twice. The disgraced RAF pilot spun his Vanguard mech into a sickening, zero-gravity barrel roll, dodging a volley of plasma fire. He extended his high-frequency blades, slicing flawlessly through the glowing wings of two golden drones. As their wings severed, the drones’ golden armor instantly turned a dead, dull grey. They floated away into the void, completely depowered. "We can bleed them!" Elias shouted, a wild, adrenaline-fueled grin spreading across his face. "Keep pushing!"

Ava turned, her flame-wings fading. “Then let’s build it.”

Chapter 35: The Ares Protocol The air in the secret hangar beneath the cliffs hummed with a low-frequency vibration that rattled the marrow of Jade’s bones. Hidden behind a massive, retractable rock face was the Ares—a sleek, delta-winged prototype finished in a matte-black skin that seemed to swallow the dim emergency lighting. It didn't look like a plane; it looked like a shard of obsidian designed to pierce the heavens.

Light exploded from my body, blinding white and pure gold mixing together in waves of power that made the air itself sing. Mom's hand found mine as wings of light spread from my shoulders, filling the tiny cell with their radiance. Time to fly. The wings weren't like anything I'd seen before. Not feathered like traditional angel wings. Not bat-like, like demon wings. These were pure energy, translucent and opalescent, shifting between gold and white with every pulse of power. “Impossible,” Azrael's voice came through the door again. “The dampening fields…” My power answered him, shattering every suppression device built into the walls. Pieces of tech rained down around us as the wings grew s

They were also Raven Shifters, making them even more special in the Fafner Kingdom since 90% of our country's inhabitants hand four legs and no wings. I raised my hand and gathered a small amount of warmth around my palm and fingers, creating a thin glove of flames that I pressed against my brother. I splayed my fingers and wiggled them through his fur, adding a little pressure when I finally reached the roots and the heat of his skin. Staring at the dancing flames that harmlessly brushed by his dark brown pelt, I focused on my connection to my twin, envisioning a bridge in my mind that connected me to him.

She dived, her golden cannon charging for another shot. "You are a 'High-Value Asset,' Elara!" she screamed, her corporate mask finally cracking into pure, unadulterated rage. "You do not have the 'Permission' to die on your own terms!" Before she could fire, a shadow swept over the bridge. It wasn't a cloud. It was a fleet of rusted, 1990s-era fighter jets—F-15 Eagles—roaring out of the fog. They were the "Air-Wing" of the Iron Vault, piloted by the men and women who had refused to be uploaded.

The other curved backward in a brutal sweep, thicker than Apollo’s and ridged along its length, as though designed less for ceremony and more for impact. His wings were folded tight behind him, but even restrained, they carried weight. They were not the flexible, membranous stretch of Apollo’s; they were denser, layered in plates edged with serrated bone. Each ridge caught the firelight and fractured it, casting sharp shadows across the stone. In battle, those wings would not glide. They would cleave.