Commandment Of Flames Novels & Stories

He speaks. “Good…” I nod. He shakes her head. he finishes up with the bandages on my hands. I look at my hands. For some reason I feel warmth in them. “Thank you…” “How about instead of a thank you, you make sure you never do that again and just throw them out next time…” he says seriously I nod. “Sure I’ll just throw them out next time. Not that there would ever be a next time…” I smile “Yes this will be a flower free zone from this moment forward…” he says softly

“Creator, may I ask that you repeat your command?” Her gaze did not soften. “Was my command unclear?” “You command Flaveus to kill his own comrades,” the old one said. The Shining Keeper looked back at the scarred salamander. “Flaveus. Did you not hear me? Or do you fail to comprehend what was spoken?” “I heard you, Creator.” His eyes dropped. “But forgive me—I do not understand why you would ask this of me. Have we offended you?” “Hm.” She turned the vessel idly in her hand, watching the ale move inside it. “This is the first occasion upon which any of you have questioned my command.”

I could feel it make its way to the surface, my body tingling along its path. Flame bloomed from my open palm, small and controlled, gold at the edges and white-hot at the center, and it didn't lunge for anything. It just sat there in my hand, docile as a candle flame, while I stood there smiling at it like an idiot. "There," Orion said, and I could hear the smile in his voice even with my eyes still adjusting to the sight of my own hand not currently being on fire. "That's it. That's the difference between commanding it and being dragged behind it."

he says, "There's a scripture in one of those books that talks about a Mother Flame. You're the mother to the flame and we're pretty sure you haven't even reached full potential of this power. We feel like the fire is a living thing, like you can control it a lot more than you think." I blink and nod. Yes. Yes, that's exactly how my fire feels. I stop for a second, lift my hand and create the usual fire I can produce when I'm not scared or in a dire situation, or without the presence of my wolf. I've always called it my baby fire, because I can't really make it grow bigger unless there's something pissing me off or scaring me. Right now, it's engulfing my whole hand. "Treat it like you're it

Two young wolves from rival packs, making promises they had no right to make. But the moment felt right. True. Like the red moon had sealed their pact. Talia leaned back again, stretching her legs out. “You know, if we’re going to lead our packs someday, we should probably practice giving orders.” Lyra raised a brow. “Oh really?” “Yes.” Talia cleared her throat dramatically. “Lyra of Stormfall, I command you to fetch me a pinecone.” Lyra stared at her. “Absolutely not.” Talia gasped. “You’re already breaking the pact!”

Something that would kneel, obey, and surrender completely while she took everything. She stepped into the circle. The air immediately thickened, pressing against her skin like warm velvet. She raised the athame, point to the north, and began the invocation in a low, steady voice, English laced with fragments of Enochian and something older, something that tasted of iron and ozone on her tongue. “I call thee, bound by blood and will. I name thee vessel of my hunger. Come forth in flesh I shape, in form I claim. Be mine to command, mine to ruin, mine to ride until the stars bleed.

💦Flames and Desire💦 The fire alarm screamed through my small Palermo apartment as thick black smoke filled the kitchen. A pan of oil had exploded while I was cooking late-night pasta, and the flames were spreading fast across the counter. I coughed violently, backing away from the heat, my heart pounding with panic. Strong arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind, lifting me off my feet like I weighed nothing. "Stay low!" a deep, commanding voice shouted through the smoke.

Enough. I step closer and the air shifts. The nurse gasps softly as a familiar green flame begins to move from my skin. I inhale deeply, focusing on the burn deep within me. The fire that sent Wendigos fleeing. The flames that rejected their venom. The power that feels like it’s becoming something more. I reach for the warrior’s hand. And unleash it. Flames flood the room - cleansing, defiant, divine… Let the reckoning begin.

A memory__My mother’s voice. “The flame is not a weapon. It is a bond. Between life and death. Between heart and pack. Use it not to destroy, but to choose.” I gasped. That’s why the god wanted it. That’s why Kade failed. He tried to take it but the flame… must be given Aelira ran toward me, blood on her arm. “We can’t kill it, Freya. Not with force.” “I know,” I said. “Then what?” “I have to choose.”

My lips tighten, and my voice drops, low and cutting. “Stop,” I say firmly, the single word carrying the force of a command, a warning, an absolute refusal. She freezes for a heartbeat, and I can see the spark of surprise flare in her eyes before it hardens into defiance. “I do not want anything to do with you, Mona. Nothing. Not here, not now, not ever again.”