Grim Reaper Wings Novels & Stories

They moved skillfully, and quickly, opting to fight opponents that had still been in human form. Ambrosia fought just the same but had Tiana and Zephyr as back up. This allowed her to fight wolves as well. Zephyr's white wings were beautiful and almost blinding. I wished I could have had more time to take in their enthralling, majestic beauty. One look at them had you in a daze. I reluctantly tore my eyes away from them to look at Tiana's wings. It resembled a butterfly's with multicolors, the most prominent being bronze and gold.

My heart and body rebels at the thought I make my way to the back of the building and release my wings. The good thing about demon wings is that they can also materialize over my clothes. Fallon gives me a hard glare when I land on the roof. The building is not very tall. But it’s tall enough to obscure us from spectators. Thankfully, it’s still dark outside.

This really is crazy. “Cheezy crimson blood! Did they tear their body themselves?” To Terejia’s banter, his fingers pointed on the numerous parted limb left on the ground. Blood was rapidly spurting and flowing out of it. And I caught a lady with her hair disheveled, her nails growing long and black, and a ghastly pair of obsidian wings ripping her back. With that kind of alteration, the woman charged off to the air like a raven dashing.

I let the Void do the talking. I swept my wing out in a wide, vicious arc. The mercury blades didn't just cut; they erased. The pikes shattered into dust, and the Alphas were thrown across the deck, their armor melting as the Void-energy ate through their circuits. I was a storm of black-and-gold, a "Lagos-grit" reaper moving through the center of the world's power.

My hands clawed at the floor as something ripped through skin and bone. Wings. Not feathered. Not scaled. But something in between made of shadow and light, stretching high above me, shaking the hall with their power. Everyone stared. Kael’s growl broke the quiet, his voice raw with both awe and rage. “Wings. Harbinger wings.” Lucien’s lips curved in a dangerous smile. “Beautiful. More beautiful than I ever imagined.” Darius’s fire faded at his hands, his face carved with fear. “That’s not beauty. That’s destruction.”

“Too big. Too much.” Yet another orgasm fired through her. He felt every squeeze, every pull, every contraction along his cock. Her scream hit him like a drug. The bond flared so violently that he nearly saw nothing but white. His wings burst from his back again, ripping through the air in a storm of ash and sparks. They spread wide behind him, bracing against the stone as he used them for leverage, each thrust shaking the cross. Feathers smouldered at the tips, dropping to the floor like singed prayers that would never reach any god.

My dad only replied, "The weather is bad today. The aircraft can't take off." With that, he ended the call. Hugging Mom, whose heart had stopped beating, Uncle Peter sat in the corridor outside the emergency room the whole night. The next day, someone posted a photo on the local forum. In the photo, a white Cessna flew across the sky, with pink petals drifting down from the aircraft. The sky was clear. … In the afternoon, my secretary, Annie Grant, knocked on the door. "Mr. Lowe, we've received a call from Zach Airways. They asked if you've finished reviewing the file sent by Mr. Zimmerman and when you will be able to approve it."

The audience erupted in thunderous applause, and several world-renowned dancers gave us rave reviews. Marissa wheeled me to center stage. Since the incident, this was my first time stepping onto a stage again as a choreography consultant. I bowed my head alongside the other dancers, grateful for the audience's support. This time, the flashing cameras and the eyes of strangers didn't scare me. I felt like I had found a new purpose. … Three years later, I choreographed a dance called "The Fallen Butterfly." I performed it entirely from my wheelchair and became the first dancer of my kind.

Ultimately it was up to me which side prevailed, good or evil, light or dark, dreams or nightmares. Using the sharp tips of my wings like a blade, I sliced away the demonic hands that tried to restrain me. Satisfaction washed over me at the unnatural hiss they made as they sizzled back into the ground, undoubtedly going back to the depths of purgatory to continue inflicting pain on the restless souls trapped there. Seeing them slither away, I grasped my chance and spread my magnificent wings, taking flight, chasing the sounds of the horrific screams.

"The wings generate their shields! Clip them, and they die like anything else!" Elias Vance didn't need to be told twice. The disgraced RAF pilot spun his Vanguard mech into a sickening, zero-gravity barrel roll, dodging a volley of plasma fire. He extended his high-frequency blades, slicing flawlessly through the glowing wings of two golden drones. As their wings severed, the drones’ golden armor instantly turned a dead, dull grey. They floated away into the void, completely depowered. "We can bleed them!" Elias shouted, a wild, adrenaline-fueled grin spreading across his face. "Keep pushing!"