Avenger Wings Novels & Stories

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.

Then, I took out an A3 paper from the briefcase and spread it across the table. It was a curved flight path, overlapping on the city map. "This is the flight path of the Cessna with the registration number B-10YZ between 2:00 pm and 4:00 pm on the same day. This aircraft…" I stared at him. "…is owned by Zach Airways." A flicker of tension crossed Zachary's face. Under the light, his face turned as pale as a sheet as he swallowed hard. Mike fixed his eyes on the two documents for a long time before he gradually raised his head. "Mr. Zachary, this weather report…"

Not enough distance, no backup, heart split wide open and bleeding divine light like a damn beacon. And that’s when I smelled the fucking wolves. Not our wolves. Council wolves. Government issue, silver laced, weapon strapped, holier than thou enforcer dickheads. I hit the treeline just as I saw them close in, eight of them, all in sleek black gear, guns drawn, silver cuffs glinting like a threat. And there he was. Auren. Standing tall despite the storm in his chest, his wings out because, let’s be honest, ain’t no hiding those divine fuckers when your soul is flayed open.

"Mommy, my wings are crooked!" I'm not even through the safe house door when Ava's crisis hits full volume. She's standing in the living room wearing green sequined wings that list dramatically to the left, Mr. Floppington tucked under one arm like he's about to stage an intervention. Elena kneels in front of her, safety pins between her teeth, hair falling out of its clip. She's in jeans and a sweater that's riding up her back, exposing skin I have no business noticing when her daughter is having a wardrobe emergency.

Somehow, they'd gotten their hands on my flight info and cut me off the minute I walked off the plane. Mom looked at me like she couldn't believe her eyes, as if she needed proof I was actually standing there. Then, all at once, she broke down and threw her arms around me, her face wet with tears. "Wanda, my child, it's so good to have you back. Where have you been all these years? Dad and I never gave up looking for you." Her act left me speechless, and my heart stayed cold. I shoved her back, uninterested in playing my part in their dramatic reunion act.

His wings spread wide, feathers shimmering like liquid gold, ready to defend the innocent and uphold the balance of the realms. Flame curled around Wrath's frame, a living, breathing entity that danced and flickered with his every movement. The inferno cast eerie shadows, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the fierce determination in his molten eyes. His power was raw, untamed, a force of nature that refused to be contained or controlled.

"Get the kids to the sub-levels! Camille, don't you dare look back!" Elodie’s voice tore through the screech of jet engines. Above, the sky wasn't purple anymore; it was choked with the oily black smoke of burning high-octane fuel. A "Wolf-Killer" drone, sleek and predatory with Aegis Corp markings, banked hard over the west wing. Its underbelly glowed a hellish red before a silver-shrapnel missile corkscrewed into the ramparts.