Illyrian Wings Novels & Stories

Magnificent black wings that were neither the wings of a dragon, nor the feathers of a bird, but a combination of both. Tarragon’s cry pulled my attention from the marvel of my wings to where she lay, pinned below the monster, and fought to keep the mandibles from closing around her, one arm already pinned, but valiantly jabbing for the creature’s eye with her free hand. She managed to gouge the sticky, many-faceted orb, so that the creature shied back, wounded and wailing, thrashing against the portal that still held it as it squirmed back into its own world, the sharp leg that pierced Tarragon’s thigh dragging her back with it.

I was unsure if it would be towards him, or away. “Mate.” I heard her say. Her eyes lite up, her wings appearing from her back. The sight of her was blinding. Her blue dress shimmered as her wings stood tall behind her shoulders. Her wings began to grow longer. They were now brushing the back of her calf. Renard came walking over at light speed. He took her hand in his raising it in the air. His wings appeared mimicking Helga’s. There was a tornado of colors swirling around them. Her blue and his red, not blending together as mine and my men. The colors died down, accepting each other.

“Ai!” “Raiden!” Hearing their screams of cries and desperation. The hourglass broke into pieces, sending them both farther away from each other, wherein their struggle and might do not do a single thing. Glass-like wings emerge from the back of them. With the prominent him that is pulled and now wrap by the immediate dark like tentacle hands. His wings formed into the intricate pattern of his own life, mana, identity, blood, origin, and memories. Shines into a mix of the shade of red and resembles the beauty of the sunset. She and the prominent her suck unto the void where her wings grow with its intricate mark and symbol of her life, man, blood, and memories. Resembling the starry night sky

I ask. “Fucking hunters,” Mykenzie growls. Both of them are glowing red, and their eyes are glowing green. They are pissed. Kylani is holding her shoulder, and I can see blood on their backs. This is bad. I can almost guarantee that they have wounds around their wings. I yell for Chris because he and Dimitri are the only ones that can touch the blood that comes from their wings. The blood that flows through their wings is poisonous. Chris and Rye come running in, and I hear Chris start swearing. Dimitri appears from nowhere to help. He is here to help with the wings. Imyra is with him. Being a fae, she is an exceptional healer. We spread the girls out around the room and got to l

Control. This was my domain. I wore the floral collar Ofelia had bribed me into with a piece of grilled chicken. Daisies. A touch of lavender. Something pale and pink I couldn’t identify, but it didn’t offend me. It sat lightly against my fur, and I tolerated it because it matched the mood. And because I looked good in it. Obviously.

Lightning bent around them as thunder claps followed their roars. Merenrys’s own wings were folded tight, her hieroglyphs pulsing faintly across her skin. Every mark was a history of war she survived, every symbol alive and ancient. They crawled and shimmered — gold, turquoise, violet — whispering through her veins like restless fire. But beneath her calm stood a mother’s dread. “Do you feel it?” Kaelir’s voice rumbled, low and rough as thunder over sand. Merenrys nodded. The air trembled and from the horizon, black clouds rolled towards them. But as they drew nearer Merenrys realized they weren't clouds, but wings.

I nodded and swallowed hard. “Now retrieve your wings, honey.” “What wings? I have wings!” My eyes nearly popped out of each socket. My heart pounded so hard in my rib cage, and I instantly felt the air pulsing around us. I didn’t want to look behind me over my shoulder. I was scared for it to be true. “You’re not helping, Sebastien,” Zarah said cautiously. “Not wings like physical wings. They’re glowing, like 3D lights, the same as when you summoned the fire, but yes, you have wings,” Ren tried to explain but I completely understood what he meant.

Isla, she was a tall slender fae short hair that was nearly shaved against her head. Her eyes reminded me of Helix’s as they bulged slightly from her face. Her wings were her prominent feature. It was the first time I saw the typical fae wings. They looked like they were made of stained glass catching every light possible to cast their color on any surface they could. Slightly transparent but just enough to show a delicate softer intention. She flapped them so silently even the air currents around her weren’t disturbed as she hovered to place a few books up high on some shelves.

“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

Skin tore— And wings unfurled. But they weren't white. And not demon-red. They remained black. Yet at the edges... red shimmered. Dust. Tiny, glowing, dancing specks. Like silver on Rea's white wings. For the first time: they belonged together. Kael trembled. His wings weren't entirely of this world— As if they were made not for air, but memory. Woven from pain, choices, fury, and longing. The light pulsed, and the spear shuddered.