Sunny Wings Of Fire Novels & Stories

“Boom!” The violent jolt blacked out my vision for a moment, my organs feeling as if they’d shifted inside me. Yet through the dust, a surge of grim satisfaction coursed through me when I saw their terrified faces. Just as I steadied the car and prepared for the next strike, a deafening roar filled the air. The massive sound of a helicopter drew near, and through the loudspeakers above came the team manager’s voice. “Found them! Fire brigade! Put out the fire!”

Fire. She wanted to scream at me. Maybe slap me. Maybe stab me. And God, I loved that look. But I can't fire her just for that look, that preety mouth decided to keep quiet. Not many people dare look at me like that. Most look at me like I’m a threat. She looked at me like I was a challenge. Then Brooke started flirting with her, right in front of me. She was too innocent or too polite to shut him down. He kissed her hand like some smooth asshole from a cheap romance film.

Just to relieve the pressure. The moment I unlocked the mental dam, the suppressed energy trickled out until it roared in its full form. A magnificent, blinding spiral of golden-orange fire erupted from my palm, violently spinning toward the ceiling. But within seconds, the heat spiked drastically. The air grew dangerously thick with smoke, the fire was getting out of control, and the golden flames began to crackle with an unpredictable, volatile white light across it. The glass windows of our suite began to darken under the immense smoke and heat.

A soldier suddenly sprouted two wings on his body, he was flying in the sky, so he dodged. The test ended, only a few people remained. Bella Risa looked at the young man who was probably in his twenties, his handsome face retracting his wings. With a little praise, she couldn't help but blurt out: "He's both handsome and very good." Raph Conrad glanced at the woman, eyes glazed over at the other man. For some reason, there was some discomfort in his heart, and his tone was more harsh: "A group of ten people, but only a few people passed. Everyone, what kind of practice is this?”

I hadn’t understood what she meant until now. Maybe she knew. Maybe the fire was never meant to destroy me. The moon slides out from behind the clouds. For a second, the ashes around me glow faintly, stirred by a soft gust. They spiral upward, forming the faint outline of wings. Phoenix wings. I blink, and they’re gone. The world feels too still. Too empty. No guards. No scent of wolves. They must have thought there was nothing left to find. No one survives a fire like that. I crawled towards the river. The reflection that greets me isn’t mine.

The scale of him forced the eye to adjust, to recalibrate what counted as a threat, what counted as a weapon. His wings unfurled behind him. Not in a single, theatrical sweep, but in a measured expansion that claimed the space as its own, the membranes stretching outward in layered arcs, catching the rising heat and bending it to his will. The edges burned in deep, smouldering crimson, not bright but dense, like coals banked beneath ancient ash, pulsing in time with the fire beneath his skin. Drifting ash caught along their span, then burned away in curling wisps, leaving no mark. These were not the wings of any bird. They were banners torn from an infernal altar and set ablaze. That fire wa

Benjamin staggered to his sides, his limbs trembled and his breathing labored as his whole body seize up, he let out a low growl. Emily held Sydney with her freed hand, her talons digging into his flesh. He howled in pain as the flames sizzled his wrist, and he yanked his hand away. She seized the opportunity, summoning dark energies and flinging them at Sydney. The force of the blast knocked him off, sending him crashing into the shelf behind him. Books, papers, and knick-knacks went flying as he tumbled to the floor. Her wings burst from her back, as dark and glistening as midnight. She wrapped them protectively around Chris, shielding him as they plummeted from the window. The air rushed

“Hey! I will save you, hold on.” Seeing Andy arrive, a ray of hope radiated from the old man's face, then he fainted from inhaling too much smoke. Andy looked around, searching for any usable tools. However, he found nothing. Suddenly, wings emerged from behind his back; he flapped his wings and then placed the two men on his shoulders. The fire moved aside, making his path smooth without any obstacles. Andy walked without fear, his hands, and face now feeling severe burns as he approached the door. He didn't realize his wings had disappeared, and Andy burst out carrying the two men on his shoulders.

But my joy is short-lived as I begin to I concentrate, pulling on Luca’s sputtering wind and Jackson’s raw power to grow the fire in the air even as the debris of the plane falls to the ground. Slowly, the flaming whirlwind forms in the sky above the Atalaxian troops. Even as I miss Jesse and his shadows, there is something so…so magnificent about the bright flame against the dark sky that thrills within me. I take a moment, not destroying anything else, just…letting the conflagration hang in the air, a clear message to the enemy that reflects all of the rage and pain in my heart. That I’m here now. And their time is short, because the fire is coming and I’m going to burn them all to ash.

He added quickly, angrily, as if hating the softness in himself: “Don’t make me regret it.” Then he turned away, leaving Elara with the unspoken truth burning between them— The Fire King was not cold. He was burning too hot to touch.