Thorn Wings Of Fire Novels & Stories

And this time, she would ensure that anyone who had burned her wings would burn with her in the fires of her revenge. END OF CHAPTER 32..

His hands gripped my arms, his fingers biting into my skin. “I am fine,” I tried to say, but the words came out slow and thick, like mud. My tongue felt heavy and useless. “Just… dizzy. The fire is too hot.” But my legs would not listen to me. They folded under me like wet cloth, with no strength left at all. Thorne did not ask again. He swept me up into his arms, holding me so tight it stole my breath. He turned, a deep, vicious snarl ripping from his throat. The sound was pure, undiluted rage.

The fire did not ask her to kneel. It bowed. She stepped onto the pedestal. The twin flames rose higher. Wrapped around her in spirals. The wind roared through the open walls. And every wolf in the valley howled. Not in fear. Not in loyalty. In recognition. The land remembered. The gods stirred. And the sky, The sky bled red. Mourne stood at the entrance, eyes wide. “She’s not taking the throne,” he whispered. “She’s changing it.” The fire split one last time.

Canvas caught instantly, flames roaring up with hungry crackles. A Silverfang enforcer huge brindle wolf barreled into Thorne, claws raking his flank. Pain burned, but Thorne rolled, coming up under the bigger male, jaws snapping for the belly. He tore a deep gash, entrails spilling hot and steaming onto the ground.The brindle howled, staggering.Thorne finished it with a throat rip.Jaren fought nearby young and ferocious, taking on two at once. He ducked a claw swipe, lunged low, hamstrung one, then spun to sink fangs into the second’s shoulder, shaking until bone cracked.Seline danced through the chaos lean black wolf, precise and deadly, throat strikes and quick retreats, leaving bodies in

Every other time one of her past selves had died Lawrence s release from the flames and into the Announcer had been simultaneous. Something was different; something that was making her see things that couldnt possibly be real. Wings on fire. Daniel! she cried out. What looked like Daniels wings soared through waves of flames, catching fire but not smoldering, as if they were made of fire. All she could make out were white wings and violet eyes. Daniel? The fire rolled across the darkness like a giant wave across an ocean. It crashed onto an invisible shore and washed furiously over Lawrence , rushing up her body, over her head, and far behind her.

"You’re the one who whispered to me in the dark when the Council was carving into my bones. You’re the 'Extinction' they were so afraid of." The figure—the Red-Winged Dante—stepped into the light. It was a perfect, terrifying blend of us. It had Dante’s lethal, massive frame and his predator’s stance, but from its spine erupted a pair of wings that were an exact, burning replica of mine. They weren't made of "Void-Lead" or "Obsidian-Gold." They were made of Primal Fire, a deep, arterial red that seemed to drink the light from the room.

Very quickly, Irina created a fireball that was thrown at Brawen below to let the thorns know that Brawen was below. And just like Irina wanted, Brawen had to create ice to block the fire, and this led to the thorns drawing closer to Brawen. Lightning-fast spiked tentacles wrapped around Brawen as she struggled to catch Irina's second fireball. Thorny tentacles wrapped around Brawen, squeezing. The pitiful screams that could not be contained resounded in the hearts of people, like a knife cutting straight into the hearts of those boys. Irina smiled gloatingly, before landing, she beat a thorn bush with her whip, and peacefully stood on top of it smiling:

"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.

He leaned down to whisper, “Let them all come.” He commanded the fire to burn and clamped her throat tighter to muffle her scream—now reduced to a strangled screech. His claws dug deeper into her flesh, feeling her pulsing veins. Blood trickled down, sizzling as it met the flames. The witch writhed under his grip, her sharp nails desperately scratching at his dragon arm, only to be clipped. Insects and nocturnal birds fled the scene. His fire consumed her entire body until all that was left was ashes. The woods went dark and still again.

Yseah spoke with firm but a hollow meaning behind it. Greetings! This is my first ever werewolf story. I really was looking forward writing this. And if there are wrong typos and grammars, that I deeply apologize. I am sorry in advance. By the way, if you're enjoying the story, please vote gems for Mated to the Thorns. Thank you!! -Note: From Author, MysticGrace