Onyx Wings Novels & Stories

Angels have beautiful bird-like wings, like eagles and ospreys and hawks, whereas demons have grotesque bat wings. When you mix the two, it turns out you get something like my wings, smooth, dark blue, and like a dragon wing. Minus the boney parts and scales. Dad said the skin on our wings actually resembles the skin of sharks, which makes us very, very fast flyers. But what sets us apart from our predecessors, is that the wings can change shape. Quite literally.

Everyone saw that the Dodge Tomahawk's posture was slowly changing. It stood where it was, leaning slightly, but it had never taken its eyes off Spider Queen, as if it were ready to attack. And just behind the handsome silver-white robot, a pair of massive, beautiful angel-like robotic wings that were made of an unknown material slowly unfolded. As they expanded, all the surrounding spider silks were ruthlessly severed, and an ice-blue light flowed on the wings, looking extremely beautiful.

I knelt so we were eye‑level. He bent forward, too. I opened it. Inside gleamed the tiny kitten, with etched wings and clay fur painted in soft cream and gray. It looked like it belonged in his palm. “It’s for your keychain,” I said, voice steady. “A little reminder.” He smiled wider, brushing a fingertip over the delicate wings. “It’s perfect.” I watched how he held it, careful, grateful. Then he let the charm rest in his palm and lifted his hand to reach for mine. I didn’t hesitate. My fingers curled around his.

They leave their home so rarely that sightings of them flying by are exceptionally rare. And yet here I am, standing in front of one of them, about to marry her son. A bright white reflecting rainbows, her skin is opalescent, shifting hue as she turns her head from side to side. Much like Ona, her hair is midnight black, deeper than dark, a color that absorbs all the light around it, like liquid ink, that trails down her back and between her incredible wings that appear to be woven of starlight itself with translucent webbing that glows a faint blue. Her eyes burn with the same green fire as Primus’ but without the tints of brown that he has as an earth dragon. Like both of her children, her

He looked to be wearing a gilded armor blessed by the divine light. Fire flowed along the ridges of his spine like living silk, pouring from one spiked crest to the next in bright rivers. His eyes, twin orbs of black and gold, became deeper and blazing all at once, like eclipsed suns lit from within. His wings alone could have undone her breath. The first pair was his usual vast and draconic wings, built of muscle and scale and force enough to rend the storm apart. The second pair shone behind them like a holy afterimage.

I turned my gaze as he stripped off his shirt and pants. The sound of bones breaking filled the air. A loud thud was the only signal I needed to know I could look up. I stared at Ophir in awe. At night it was hard to see how truly magnificent he was. His wings could easily stretch across our training field. Two claws sat on the peaks of both wings. His scales were as black as the night sky. His black horns on top of his head pointed backwards more and stuck out the sides of his lower jaw. Spikes poked out of his chin, and some ran up each of his legs. The scales of his wings looked like feathers. He laid on the ground tucking his wings beside him. His black claws dug into the dark earth.

The other curved backward in a brutal sweep, thicker than Apollo’s and ridged along its length, as though designed less for ceremony and more for impact. His wings were folded tight behind him, but even restrained, they carried weight. They were not the flexible, membranous stretch of Apollo’s; they were denser, layered in plates edged with serrated bone. Each ridge caught the firelight and fractured it, casting sharp shadows across the stone. In battle, those wings would not glide. They would cleave.

When Sirus opened it, only to reveal a large pair of wings. The wingspan was about three meters, fierce and colorful. Sirus took down the wings, a hint of pride in his eyes. “These wings were made from the feathers of the Heavenly Fiend Phoenix. Once refined and merged, you can use it by channeling your immortal essence. It can fly several hundred miles with a single flap and is an exceptional treasure for flight. Now...”

The particle separation and reunification ignited the next phase of my transformation. I can feel my muscles, bones, and fat reshaping into something more robust, leaner, and lethal. My fingers keep ripping out sharp, blade-like black claws, and my gums throb from the new fangs that have emerged. When I think it is over, my shoulder blades tear open, and enormous black angel wings thrust out. The feathers are a deep black, glistening in the portal's light. These large and imposing wings span wider than my entire body. They are immense, powerful, and coated in a thick, black liquid that shimmers in the light. Each wing is a work of art, with feathers that fade from black to the deepest shade

Her wings fell back into her body, screaming. Covering my mouth, a sob wrecked through me. I had forgotten she would feel the pain, too. Too worried about watching Mortus breathe his last breaths. The warrior, his eyes solemn with pity, gently gathered her in his arms, picked her up. Her head leaned into his chest, gripping his uniform. “Leave me,” she cried again. Wings sprung forth from his body, shaking his head. His wings hummed in the pattern of a hummingbird and took flight to the palace.