Novel & Cerita Concept Book Wings

“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

“Oh, gods…” Her breath was scorching hot. Every exhale washed over me like the air from a furnace. One careless movement from me and I would get burned, even one accidental bite and I would be dead. “Please don’t sneeze,” I whispered. The beast blinked one golden eye then, with another powerful roar her enormous wings spread. “Wings?” They unfurled like giant sails, black as midnight and edged with crimson veins. One powerful flap and the beast launched itself into the air. The crowd gasped.

Like something inside her had decided: No survivors. One Winged creature launched toward the sky, trying to flee over the roofs. Nyra followed. She rose, golden wings cutting the air like blades, and caught up in seconds. She slammed into it mid-flight. They tumbled. Nyra recovered first, always first, wings snapping open to stabilise her, and she drove the fleeing creature downward with her body like a spear. They crashed onto a roof. Tiles exploded. The Winged creature screamed. Nyra ripped its throat out. Black blood sprayed across broken tiles.

Adrewine's body convulsed instead, a shudder so violent it seemed to tear the air itself. A low strangled, guttural cry wrenched from her throat as her spine arched backward. The ground beneath her feet cracked. The air rippled then split. Merenrys stumbled back, eyes wide, as the child’s small frame began to distort—stretching, twisting, reforming. Bones popped like snapping branches, her skin tore in delicate seams that wept smoke instead of blood. Her shoulders split open, and from the fissures unfurled wings that shimmered wetly, each membrane swirling with the iridescent sheen of oil on water. Smoke coiled from them, black and alive, tasting of sulfur and burnt myrrh.

The way they moved—effortless and controlled—was almost hypnotizing. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, struggling to form a coherent thought. “Do you seriously expect me to process this in just a few seconds? You have wings—actual, fully functional wings—and I had no idea all this time?!” My voice rose in disbelief, my hands gesturing wildly as if that would somehow help me make sense of the situation.

Yes, I had a high sex drive but I’m not uncontrollable like demons who visit people in their dreams and have sex with them just to relieve themselves. I spent some time alone in the forest, trying to understand my new wings. I discovered I could will them to flap, spread out, and cocoon around me. It wasn’t even hard to learn to fly with them and I had the urge to fly up further into the sky but I was worried someone else would see. Luckily my anger had died down when the wings sprung out of my back. I was more concerned about the strange development than some stupid bitch who has nothing to do but throw herself at a man who doesn’t want her.

Their plan had done it's work. Sephora had spent hours with Ambrose those past few days before the assembly. The minister's words had given Ambrose a brilliant idea of how they would prove she was the Pheonix. The Pheonix was a creature of fire, a magnificent bird that flew over the heads of their foes and reduced them to ashes and simmering embers. Sephora had to become that creature, that force of nature. And so, together in the fighting pit, they had spent hours trying to create wings of fire and vast explosions of flame.

Tyron glanced at her, then looked back at Gwen, intensely this time. “Your wings!” he exclaimed almost immediately and Gwen smiled. “How did you do it?” “I simply followed the spells in the book Marc gave me.” “But I doubt your wings are supposed to be this size just after the first try.” “She is the Abomination, mister. She obviously would be extraordinary. By the time she masters her other powers, who knows just how big her wings would be.” Tyron kept staring at Gwen, looking worried. “I am okay.” Gwen said. “Except for the heavy feel of the wings, everything is pretty much the same.”

Confusion riddled my features, "My wings aren't white or fully gold to rule." "You were born to rule," Zora squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in the air, "that's why you were willing to give up everything for your people. Keep your wings hidden. No one's seen what they look like. When the time comes for you to take your place, all they will see is a set of white wings that emerged from your mating bond." "You can't be honestly suggesting what I think you are," I stared at her flabbergasted. "I am," holding her hands out—palms facing up, a blinding white light flashed into existence before vanishing just as quickly. In its place, lying on her palms, sat the second half of the book. Zo

Clara could feel the tension constricting her chest, waiting to take over. Air churned behind him, gathering and molding into what she could make out like birds—ten of them—flapping their wings in a beat. The small birds did a little show in a swooping arc and glide. The flutter of their small wings had Clara’s heart doing the same. As they glided in swiftness, a flash of rich browns and brilliant blues followed them in a trail.