Fresh Wind Fresh Fire Novels & Stories

Everyone retreats. - You are a dragon and your strength comes from fire, the phoenix is ​​a bird of fire, I am the soul of fire. I don't burn, but I make it burn. I don't burn, but I can burn you. Your dragon fire doesn't affect me, but my fire can burn you. – the kitsome says, in her ghostly voice. Then it disappears, leaving only Sophia. - Didn't you say that your kitsome hadn't appeared yet? That you were still very young? – Lucifron asks in amazement.

I didn't look back again. Wind rushed into my ears. Rex's wildfire scent was ripped apart by the gale, flayed into scorching fragments that lashed against the left side of my face. Elias's old books and parchment, laced with the metallic tang of blood from his torn hand, pressed in from behind, slithering down the notches of my spine. Silas's ash pheromone was so faint in the wind I could barely catch it. The toxin was killing his scent along with the rest of him.

But they are not copies; the differences are etched deep. The breeze shifts, and their scents reach me—sharp, vivid, undeniable. One is cold and commanding, like pine needles crushed beneath snow, edged with iron. It makes Aria lower her head in instinctive respect, though there is no fear. Another burns hot and quick, a flash of pepper and citrus that sparks in my chest and makes my pulse stumble, hungry for something I don’t understand. The last wraps around me with warmth—fresh bread, smoke, and rain-soaked earth. It feels like a hearth fire, steady and patient, waiting for me to step closer.

I also appreciate honest critics as well. I promise that when I’m back, you’ll have a far more adventurous writing of Fire on Fire Book 2: ELIJAH. Thank you guys so much. Happy holidays!

Whatever that was. Suddenly, the wind picked up from the scorching heat of my my body to icy, sweet coldness. A wave of crisp air that was oddly and refreshingly cool kissed the once hot surface of my round face, and I sighed in relief, thanking the sky above for answering my prayers and subsiding my fire.

Aise zaroori ho mujko tum Jaise hawaayein saanson ko (You are necessary for me like the air for breathing) Aise talaashoon main tumko Jaise ki paer zameeno ko (I keep searching for you like feet search for the ground) Hansna ya rona ho mujhe Paagal sa dhundun main tumhein (Whether I need to laugh or cry. I search for you like someone gone crazy) Kal mujhse mahabbat ho na ho Kal mujhko ijaazaat ho na ho

... A phone call almost got me killed in a fire. I burst out of the flames, clutching a terrified cat. Outside, beside the geared-up firefighters, there were a bunch of familiar faces. They laughed, calling me the ultimate simp. Leading the pack was none other than my childhood friend, Colin Porter. He had called me an hour ago, claiming he was dying in a fire. Now he was unscathed, spotless. I realized this was just another prank of his.

I had closed my eyes and shut and lowered my head. The sound did not come. I was whole, complete whole and alive. I was alive. The relief was too much and I sagged into the chair. “Aftó den boreí na symveí” the voice was angry and it sounded frustrated. (This cannot happen) The guns. What will happen to Hades now? “Tha se skotóso tóra” the voice said and a voice of button came. I looked at the walls but no fire came. No sound. Nothing. (I will kill you now)

The moment the humans realize something’s off, Caden’s fire ignites—flames flickering inside him, curling through his limbs. Drake roars, “NOW!” He tackles me to the ground just as Baylee releases her power. Wind whooshes through her shield, funnelling into Caden’s flaming hand—then explodes outward. Our warriors hit the ground. The humans don’t even scream. They vanish in a wave of white-hot fire, reduced to ash in seconds. The blaze consumes everything in its path—grass, weapons, the evil that brought them here. Baylee screams. The sound echoes for miles.

Before going to bed, I took my diary and wrote down a quote from Lise Kiberwa's poetry collection called "Wind", Completely for no reason at all!: >>Like the wind, I don't want to belong anywhere. Just like the wind, I want to be felt but not seen. Like the wind, I want to both strengthen and extinguish the wildfire. Like the wind, I want to stress some poor old lady gently sweeping her compound by bringing all the dirt she's been removing.