Nightwing Wings Of Fire Novels & Stories

Zachary glanced at me. Instead of getting mad, he scrutinized me apathetically. Wynnie, who was beside him, suddenly said, "Mr. Lowe, Yas has shown talent as a pilot since she was young. She got her license when she was 18. At 22, she has already outperformed many experienced pilots. She's made it this far through her own efforts." Wynnie's voice was as gentle as her smile in the photo from 20 years ago.

She’s the second mole, manipulated, broken. “Lysa!” I roar, shifting fully, lunar light and primal fury erupting. My wings blaze, claws slashing as I meet the wraiths, their tendrils tearing at my aura. Maddox’s shadows bind one, but a wraith’s claw rakes his chest, blood spraying, his grunt of pain raw. Cassia’s flames surge, burning a wraith to ash, but her wound slows her, her aura fading. Renn throws his relic, its light staggering a wraith, but there are too many.

“Impossible-” Wings of fire unfurled from Freya’s back, vast and radiant, their feathers forged from golden embers. Her hair streamed upward in currents of molten sunlight. Her eyes burned, not mortal, not borrowed, but as twin cores of dawn. Every line of her body blazed with raw sovereignty, not given, not inherited, claimed. Freya lifted the Sword, her voice rising steady and final above the storm. It was not a scream. It was a vow. “This flame was never yours. It was waiting for me.”

" They hopped in their car and peeled out, leaving me alone outside the venue. The wind bit into me. I tugged my coat closer and waved down a cab home. All my stuff had been thrown outside, dumped across the doorstep like garbage. The maid looked sorry as she said, "Mr. and Mrs. Swain told me you have to leave and never come back." I didn't charge in to yell at them. I just packed up quietly, then walked away with my things. That very night, I got on a plane out of town, heading to a hidden research base run by the National Space Agency. Just before I left, I texted everyone, "I, Wanda Swain, am officially done with the Swains for good and by choice."

Gary was perfect as he was. He falls asleep and dreams of his fireheart. He dreams that he flies in the sky with him riding Zog and that they laugh happily, but the dream takes a strange turn when their children appear. Small wolves with wings that breathe fire from their mouths. In the morning when he woke up, he was tired. Restless sleep didn't give him the rest he wanted, and in the early hours of training, he couldn't reach his potential. In the afternoon, he joined his friends. They all go to drink and eat, and Lucifron tells them the dream, making them laugh.

Ares' P.O.V. Frances leaped in front of me, shielding us with her large wing as hell fire was spat from a demon's mouth. Her wings were apparently impervious to it, making her perfect for this battle. I see why the gods chose her. The moment the hell fire stopped, she dropped her wing, allowing me to attack. I pushed my shadow out, grabbing a few ghouls and crushing them. They popped like water balloons inside my shadow cocoons, causing blood to leak and splatter as I let their bodies go.

"I would never let you die." Hope whispered to me. Then she let go of me and stood beside me with a corner smile, confident, she made a simple motion with her hand and that reddish shape spread further, like wings, but not just any wings, they were Dragon wings. As the wings passed through the shadows and places a bluish flame appeared and began to burn everything that wasn't solid. I could tell the shadows were writhing and screaming, they were screams of agony as they were consumed, the runes of protection disappeared and the magic that was in the place dissipated, but these flames didn't hit us, it was as if the people who were with me were immune to them.

“Are you my boyfriend or my bodyguard?” He held his ring in front of me, my eyes were magnetized by the intricate carvings on it. “Guardian angel, remember?” He straightened up on his seat, and in a louder than necessary voice, he said, “And unlike the last one you had, I have a sword, not a halo. And my wings are black, not white. It’s time they realized who they will have a problem with the next time they hurt even a single hair in your body!” My eyes widened at him. He took my hand in his again, and then he bent down to kiss my fingers once again. “I love you, angel.” He didn’t even whisper that. I was sure many people around us heard everything he said.

Broken Into I A cool breeze drifted through Nancy’s open window, teasing the thin curtains. She lay sprawled across the silk sheets, naked, a limb askew, lost in the deep currents of sleep. The moon, a sliver of silver, cast long, distorted shadows across her bedroom floor. A faint clink, barely audible above the chirping crickets, snagged the edge of her subconscious. Her breath hitched, a shallow intake that did little to stir her from her sleep.

“But you’ll be gone.” And then I moved. Faster than his eyes could track, faster than the witches could react. My fire took over. No more compromises. No more second chances. No more mercy. I felt it before I moved. The shift. My body became flame incarnate, no longer flesh but vengeance wrapped in heat. My wings of fire unfurled behind me—massive, burning brighter than anything I had ever conjured before. I wasn’t walking anymore. I was gliding, a being of wrath.