Novel & Cerita The Wings Of Fire Book

Heat burst from my chest, wild and unstoppable, fire vomiting out of me in a torrent that melted the nets in a single breath. The ground split beneath me. Scales shimmered across my arms, black through with molten gold, crawling up my throat, down my ribs, until I was wrapped in it. My skin burned, and yet I felt invincible, every nerve alive with power too big for my body. My wings weren’t there, not yet, but I could feel them, ghosting out of my back, stretching wide, ready to blot out the sky. Heat rolled off me in waves that cracked the earth, setting the trees ablaze.

He was thrown into prison and tortured, yet he never gave in. When he was finally released, he held me tightly, his eyes red with emotion, and swore that he would never let anything harm my eyes again. Yet, he was now forcing me to embroider a wedding dress for Vivian. I felt utterly defeated. "I haven't embroidered in years. I won't be able to do it. Find someone else." My fever had just broken, and my body still felt weak. I turned to leave after saying this. Before I could leave, Owen grabbed my arm. He frowned. "How dare you refuse! Vivian saved your life, and you won't even make her a wedding dress? How do you expect me to believe that I ever loved you?"

"It's a good thing Jacob is gullible. He believed you were in Manhattan even though you didn't return to your aunt's house. But did you shut up the Langham family's driver? Don't let them get a chance to attack you." "Take it easy, I always know what to do before moving forward." At the other end, Ursula let out a long sigh. "You're always playing with fire, Celine. Aren't you ever afraid of getting burned?" "I was already burnt before I even started this, Sula." Celine leaned back comfortably on the chair she was sitting on. Her eyes gazed at the road that seemed to be deserted. The driver who drove her chose to enter the freeway in order to quickly arrive at the place Celine wanted to go.

A sense of deja vu hits me. After spending my first marital night of bliss with Braxius, his harpy first wife storms into his room. She was demanding my immediate removal from his palace. Braxius didn't give in to her demands, but he didn't defend me either. Instead, he tells me to leave his room through a side door, like a shamed woman. I disobeyed and marched through his main door, keeping my head up while walking down the corridors until I was back in my servant's cell.

I felt my wings preparing to come out while the fire in me slipped through my skin. I touched everything, setting it on fire. The rage within me motivated me to take action, and I didn‘t spare anything in my cabin. I lit everything that could catch fire. I used the clothes on the floor as kindling and spread them throughout the cabin. The flames rose quickly and engulfed the walls in no time. I stood inside the living room while everything sparkled with fire around me.

“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.”

It stopped at the entrance as if there was a glass stopping it. I looked around and the fire was everywhere. But it didn't burn me. It actually moved out of my path as I walked. Some of it danced along my skin as if welcoming me to its den. I looked up and spun around in a circle. There was no way out. I stood there trying to think of anything. Again I couldn’t think clearly. All of sudden a fiery figure rose up in front of me. It was a feminine figure with wings. It seemed to be stretching like it had been stuck in a small space.

The thing kept up until it was easy to tell that it was a person. Wings spread from its back stretching out wide. With one movement it used them to blow the flames towards the warriors that were standing too close. Flames engulfed them in minutes and then they were gone. With another great batting the wings stopped the flames altogether and the thing was all that remained. Elaina watched in horror as it began to move forward taking in the scene around it. A laugh rumbled from it making the hairs on the back of Elaina’s neck stand up.

Power floods my veins, white-hot and ancient and I move. One moment I am standing before her, the next, I am between the fire and my child. The flames slam into my back, silver, black and screaming, and I scream with them, pain tearing through me like razors. But I do not fall, I absorb it. I burn and something inside me breaks open, not shatters, not collapses, awakens. Fire blooms from my spine, radiant and blinding, wings of light and embers unfurling behind me. The pain transforms into clarity, into purpose.

Not natural. Not contained. Devastating. A dragon. Massive. Winged. Burning like the sun itself decided to take form and descend. My men don’t even have time to scream. The fire hits them. Consumes them. Erases them. Gone. I move. Fast. Barely avoiding the second wave. Heat slams into me anyway. Burning. Tearing. I land hard. Roll. Come up on one knee. Breathing heavier than I should be.