Blessed Black Wings Novels & Stories

His fuse blew up, instantly. “Screw this!” A Jet-Black Armor manifested around his body. He kicked the gate into smithereens jumped out of the vehicle. Other passengers who were busy contacting their families saw a black-armored man jumping out of the levitating vehicle. The interesting fact was the armored man did not fall to the ground. In fact, he dashed through the sky like a black meteorite. Creed did not understand if this was his luck or coincidence that he had received such a useful Soul-Armas just before the time of crisis. The moment he called Aves Wings, his back grew a pair of wings almost instantly. Its shape was almost like the wings of a dragon.

I have never seen such beautiful wings in my entire life. His crimson-red wings are described as metallic with each feather sharp like a precision blade. Each feather/blade has the top part crimson with the hairs or fibres sticking out of the sides, while the end of the blade itself is black. I really envy him. Why does he have to have such beautiful wings? Why is mine not like his? I cried in my mind and again looked up at him. He was waiting for me to go up. So I spread my wings too and flew up to complete the rest of the fight.

It was high time, he tried that skill, he thought. Life was a school, you could learn whatever lessons that was available only for you, somethings had to be experienced first hand, and Benny Blanco knew, holding the sword in his fingers, he held it quite tightly, and slowly he drew the power out of Nichiria, his eyes, suddenly dark, black wings spreading from his back, he could fly now.

Blake trapped the mist into a bubble with a green aura as many witnessed the battle between the youths and were shocked that they couldn’t comprehend what had occurred. When Blake captured the dark mist, a rumbling sound came from the building's ruins. Three men glowing brightly, and with each bearing, a pair of wings flew out. They looked disheveled and bloodied, but their blood was golden, making them look even more divine. Suddenly, two men burst from the rubble, not even injured or showing any dirt on them. One had ten white wings on his back, while the other stood there looking at the other three with his hands across his chest. This caused many witnesses to forget what had happened jus

Angels are running away from the war, those are called fallen angels, they have black wings, and they go black after they fall after they lose their holiness and become creatures of heaven, but without any of the heaven touch left in them. But not all of the angles are fallen, the other ones that are too submissive, the ones that can't fight, the delicate ones, those are kicked out of heaven, baby angels are being thrown out of heaven, their wings are still white, they don't go black, they are a creature of heaven, through and through. My gift is a baby angel, one that's thrown out of heaven, the guy said she fell three days ago, which means she's only a baby in angel years, and ours.

He looked to be wearing a gilded armor blessed by the divine light. Fire flowed along the ridges of his spine like living silk, pouring from one spiked crest to the next in bright rivers. His eyes, twin orbs of black and gold, became deeper and blazing all at once, like eclipsed suns lit from within. His wings alone could have undone her breath. The first pair was his usual vast and draconic wings, built of muscle and scale and force enough to rend the storm apart. The second pair shone behind them like a holy afterimage.

The blade flew through the air, slicing a shallow wound across the black wolf’s shoulder. The wolf yelped, its momentum carrying it past me. The black wolf skidded to a halt, its eyes narrowed with rage. Blood dripped from its shoulder, staining the grass beneath it. “Cunning,” it sneered, circling me once more. “But not clever enough. You'll get to feel my wrath now.” I shifted my weight, circling in the opposite direction. The grass crunched underfoot, each step a challenge, a promise of battle. I only gave him a half smile.

Ash still drifted in the air like black snow, settling over ruins that had once been Dawnspire’s proud walls. Serenya’s lungs burned with smoke and power as she struggled to hold herself aloft. Her new wings—woven of starlight and fire—shivered with exhaustion, dimming at the edges. Below, Thalric’s broken crown lay in shards, but the man himself rose from the ashes, alive, his form cloaked in a new and terrible shadow.

“At the end. Right before you collapsed. From your back came… I don’t even know how to describe it. Shadows that solidified. Two large, dark extensions that spread out behind you like raven wings. Black, sharp-tipped. They lasted a few seconds, then dissolved when you lost consciousness.” Wings. The word hung between us like something neither of us knew how to touch. Black wings. Raven wings. Coming out of my back. “Is that true?” I asked the voice inside. “The wings? Yes. They’re new. Pretty, right? I think they’re growing. Your Lycán’s blood feeds us well.” *Growing?* “What else is going to grow? Horns? A tail?” “Don’t be dramatic. The wings are functional. The claws are functional. Everyt

Someone wearing six black wings. Nyx. And she whispered softly, "Let's see if your love survives one more truth."