Flame Breathing Novels & Stories

It looked like flowing water instead of an actual fire. “Blake, what about your flame?” Claire asked Blake Jr. to everyone’s curiosity. His was the most mysterious, being black in nature. “Uhm, well. Truth be told, I don’t know. It does not even produce any heat or cold. It’s like it’s not even here, but it is here. I’m a little confused about its methods.” Blake Jr. replied, a bit embarrassed over his flame. “All I can say is that it’s called the Heavenly Devouring Flame.”

Still they don’t speak, but the one in the center lifts a hand. A wave of pressure slams into me, flattening the air around my ears. There’s suddenly no wind, no sound, no breath. They’re trying to mute me again. Make me smaller by taking away my voice. Contain my fire in the void. But I am not a candle. I’m the whole goddamn pyre. I draw in magic the way wolves draw breath. Greedy, full-lunged, and without apology. Heat rushes up through my limbs, settling behind my teeth. Flame flickers across my fingers, gold and orange and searing white.

The flames grew bigger, louder than their wails. Ambrose kneeled on the cement. The sound of their searing flesh was music to my ears. Screams of torment echoed inside the dungeon. Daniel screamed endlessly, his body pushed on the wall. Gideon and Sage went crazy trying to put the flames out. Gideon rolled over the dirty water but it was of no use. My fire is strong and it can’t be put out by water as long as I control it, it will spread like wildfire through every pores in your skin and it will be painful enough to not let you breathe.

“Stop!!” I screamed as rage filled my system and uncontrollable anger blinded me completely. I could feel dark red flames raging out of my body, the clothes on my body were burning as the flames covered my body completely. I could feel something coming out from my back and my body began moving in the air.

His ribs trembled from the pressure, his throat tightening as the blaze climbed higher. Then he let it loose. A deafening roar ripped from his jaws as a torrent of flame exploded from his mouth. White-hot and furious, it lit up the air like a hell-born furnace unleashed.

Vito moved to the blowtorch. He lit it with a soft whoosh, the blue flame hissing like an angry serpent. Starting at the soles of his bare feet, he played the flame across the skin in slow, deliberate passes. The flesh blistered instantly, bubbling and splitting open with wet pops. The smell of burning meat filled the room, sickeningly sweet, like overcooked pork left too long on the grill. He screams turned guttural, his body convulsing against the chains, urine streaming down his leg as the nerves fried.

Then, with a thunderous whoosh that made the thousands of watching wolves jump back in shock, a massive column of fire exploded upward from the basin, reaching ten feet into the freezing morning air. The flame burned a deep, brilliant, and majestic royal purple that illuminated the entire granite colosseum like a localized sun. The concentrated power of the Vance biological frequency filled the valley, carrying a scent of clean cedarwood and burning hearths that instantly crushed the remaining traces of Camille’s southern orchid fragrance. A collective gasp of shock ripped through the thousands of pack members in the stone tiers. The vanguard commanders fell to their knees instantly, their i

As the fire raged fiercely, I took my husband's hand and tried to rush out of the banquet hall with him. However, Frank Winston shook me off and turned to run toward his assistant, Johanna Scott. As I stood frozen in disbelief, the cabinet beside me collapsed with a rumble and pinned me beneath it. I yelled out for Frank, but he simply picked Johanna up and hurried off without a single glance back at me. Flames and thick smoke enveloped me. I watched helplessly as Frank and Johanna moved further and further away until I eventually lost consciousness.

She needed only her fury, her desperation, her will. She crouched low, pressing her palms against the damp leaves. Heat pulsed out of her like a heartbeat, small at first, then growing, until the leaves began to smoke. The air shimmered. A thin lick of flame sparked to life between her fingers, curling upward, hungry and bright. It should have terrified her. Instead, it felt like breathing. She shaped it with her hands, forcing it into a rolling arc, then flung it forward. The flame roared to life as it caught on a dead log, bursting into sudden fire.

“He feeds on your fear and doubt. You must banish both.” I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, diving inward to the part of me that still believed, still hoped. The memories of my father’s kindness, my mother’s gentle touch, the fierce loyalty of my pack—they all became fuel for the Flame. It flared brighter, swirling around my arms and chest like liquid fire. Nytheras roared, a sound that shook the very foundation of this place, and surged toward me. I barely had time to react, feeling the icy chill of his claws grazing my skin before I unleashed the Flame in a blinding wave.