Broken Wings Book Novels & Stories

I couldn't stop my cheeks from burning as much as I tried. As soon as I felt the protection of his wings, the enemy launched another barrage of powerful blows. The strikes came from all directions, each more powerful than the last. Chase's body shifted with the titanium wings being crushed by powerful forces. His arms around me didn't budge as he growled loudly. You couldn't damage Chase's wings if you tried. His wings appeared unbreakable despite repeated attempts at crushing him by the enemy. I never doubted that my involvement in this tremendous power was essential.

I had his arm pinned to his back while my wings beat at the air in big swings causing feathers and dust to cascade around us. He may be fast, but I was stronger, with wings. I pushed off of him, jumping as my wings beat downwards propelling me upward, and I perched on the railing that ran along the edge of the first floor platform. There I waited while he straightened his cloths. I hurt the wolfs pride, but what must be done is now done.

As she bid farewell to her teacher and her classmates (in her mind), Amy started her journey towards the direction of the City of Wings. It was a smooth walk in the evening breeze. On her way she looked up to the sky to notice a peculiar bird flying above her because of its uniqueness, it had four wings and a twin tail. A leg was hanging down as if it was injured and what seemed to be a drop of blood, dripped down from its leg and fell right in front of her. Amy thought," What a poor beast.", as it flew away.

Her wings fell back into her body, screaming. Covering my mouth, a sob wrecked through me. I had forgotten she would feel the pain, too. Too worried about watching Mortus breathe his last breaths. The warrior, his eyes solemn with pity, gently gathered her in his arms, picked her up. Her head leaned into his chest, gripping his uniform. “Leave me,” she cried again. Wings sprung forth from his body, shaking his head. His wings hummed in the pattern of a hummingbird and took flight to the palace.

Sylvain then fished out a small, leather-bound book from the pocket of the black sweats he wore and held it out to me, "Zora said she would work on translating it." I rose a brow and gingerly—so the book wouldn't get ruined—took the book from him. The brown leather was engraved with a pair of massive golden wings which had a smile splitting at my lips. I had never seen a fae with golden wings before, but we all knew, once one was born they would rule. The white-winged would no longer hold the throne, or in our case, my bloodline wouldn't hold the Throne captive.

His finger tracing an elegant arc in the air, "wouldn't it... look more like that moment when a butterfly's wings are struggling, trying to break free from its cocoon?" I was utterly still, my fingers tightening around the milk cup. For the first time, someone... so directly, so accurately, had seen past the "Broken Wings" series to the chaotic, painful emotions and metaphors I couldn't put into words.

But I knew he would test my faith and resolve from time to time- like now in the realm of sleep—a place where I could so easily close my eyes and shut out the harrowing cries of innocence. I had grown up to be ashamed of my wings; they always reminded me of how different I was, how unnatural and damned. I can count the times I have shown them to people on one hand. One! My mother! That is it! So, it seemed fitting to unleash my one white, one black wing in a world where they belonged; the world where dreams and nightmares entwined so flawlessly you hardly noticed! Ultimately it was up to me which side prevailed, good or evil, light or dark, dreams or nightmares.

But since I was acting vulnerable, I let her rip the back of my clothes, putting on my crumpled wings inside my empty wings pocket. "Prove that you were saying the truth," she repeated. All eyes are on me as they wait for me to prove my claims. I had a cold sweat while feeling my wings on my back. This is not how I planned it to happen. This b*tch is ruining everything! Winston, Rowan, and Wakkin might be in danger too! Is there a way for me to make it look like I recovered my wings? Our wings are not repairable once they are ruined. I can't believe she’s making me do this just because I said I had a second awakening.

She touches the scorched edges of my wings. “You carry your grief like armor.” I meet her eyes. “I carry it because it’s mine.” It's not like I have a choice. **** TRIAL TWO: Speak to the Dead The world is becoming a shadow. Figures rise from smoke. My mother, smiling with a sadness I’ve never seen. My foster brother who was chased off when my mum died, is silent as always. A rogue wolf who gave his life to protect mine. A girl with wings like mine but she is younger and brighter. Someone I might’ve been in a different world.

Half-shrouded by a broken overhead bulb no one ever fixed. Before he could sit, she was there. Raven. Her heels tapped softly, black lace gloves on her hands, a bottle of whiskey balanced against her hip. No smile. Not at first. She poured him a glass—slow, careful, like it mattered. Reyes stared at the glass. Then at her. “The farmhouse—Bramley Lot—it’s gone,” he said. “They burned it. Nothing left but bones and ash.” Her hands froze for a second. Then she finished pouring and set the bottle down.